I don't remember being shot. I woke up lying in the mud. My body is cold and wet. I'm shaking. My blood is all around. There's so much. It's hard to breathe. How long have I been lying here? I'm so tired.
There are noises over me. Pain races through my system. I let out a scream. I feel the weight of someone on my stomach. Sweat is pouring out my skin. I'm cold on the inside. My vision is blurred. The pain won't stop.
He's digging in. I feel the cold tweezers digging deeper into my stomach. It hurts. I scream. I cry. The pain is too much.
He pulls it out. The bullet is so small. Such a little thing brought so much pain. I still hurt, but I'm bandaged and under blankets. I'm still shaking, but not as much. I'm still cold, but not as much. I'm going to live.
I keep it in a jar beside my bed. I stare at it when I can't sleep. It hurt so much to get it out. I don't even remember feeling it go in. But it is poison. It would have killed me. At the time, I didn't care. It hurt so much that I would have rather died. But now I live, and that bullet in a jar is a reminder. Death is at the door, but pain is the threshold to life.
Setting Sun - Sun Setting in SoCal...I forget where exactly.....
11 months ago