Panic courses through me. I don’t give a shit about my own stuff, but if these thieves take Franklin’s property, I’m a dead man.
I try to wiggle free, but another punch lands on the side of my head, knocking me over and onto the ground. I lay there, unable to move, the entire world spinning and blackness trying to consume me.
I don’t scream for help. That would bring on unwanted attention and risk me getting caught. I fight to stay alert, to stay awake. I cower in an attempt to conceal the precious cargo tucked under my shirt.
I’m thrown onto my back, my shoulders pinned to the ground while the other person pats my body. They stop on the package I’m frantically failing to hide, ripping it out in one solid motion.
A fear unlike anything I’ve known courses through me, but before I can fully process it, another blow comes my way, almost in slow motion this time, sending me spiraling into complete darkness.
It’s not the idea of dying alone in this alley that scares me, or what I’ll have to endure for losing one of Franklin’s packages. It’s the consequences to everyone else involved that frightens me. How can I possibly protect anyone if I can’t even protect myself?
Blood pools in my mouth and trickles down my face. I don’t bother opening my eyes. I couldn’t if I tried. I lay here and wait for the ability to regain enough strength to stand and drag myself home. Only, minutes pass, and instead of getting up like I have any other time I’ve had the shit knocked out of me, I float in and out of consciousness.
A soft, concerned voice appears. “Johnny?”
If she’s here, I must be dreaming. And for once, I don’t want to wake up.