Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost. Lost.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing, Ms Crawford?”
Lost.Lost.Lost.Lost.
“I am just writing…something,” I said. “Tattooing,”
Lost.Lost.Lost.
Someone tugged on my arm. Pulling on the hand welding the hypodermic needle.
Lost.Lost.
“Lemme go! I ain’t doing nothing. Just writing. Writing!” I waved the hypodermic needle in front of me. “I’ll kill the next person who touches me.”
Lost.
A tiny prick of needle. My legs went weak as darkness cascaded upon me.

I am lost in the dark.

Lost.
Lost.
Lost.