The Dying Game (Day 52)

Brandon staunched the flow of blood as much as possible. His bundled up t-shirt darkened as it continued to soak up blood. The pain wasn’t bad but whenever he coughed, a jolt of electricity spiked through his abdomen. Gingerly, he inched fingertips beneath the shirt to touch flesh that was slick and feverish.


He needed stitches and antibiotics but there was no way to get to a hospital.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet with the help of the wall. Okay baby steps. He shuffled forward. On his second step, his arm went numb and he fell hard against the wall, his face pressing against the cool concrete. Hot breath rebounded back into his face. The sourness of it disgusted him.

He grunted and took another faltering step.

Lights dimmed around him until he was standing in a circle of bright light. A voice echoed throughout the empty darkness. “I’m sorry you had to be hurt but you struggled so much.”

Brandon ignored the voice and continued sliding onward. He’d get out of this somehow.

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