12 June 2012
I'm in pain. I watch the unlicensed doctor fiddle around with my bullet wound as if it was some cheap evening of pleasure spent with a hooker. I tried to make it clear that I wanted that fucking bullet out of my arm by biting the doctors head off every five seconds. How did henrique talk me into laying low in Mexico? They were waiting right for me as soon as I turned up to that shithole apartment. As I was re-running all the events in my head, I felt a slightly relieving pain. The "doctor" had finally stopped fiddling pulled a 9mm bullet out of me and started cleaning up the wound with spirits. My language at this time was colourful, not that he could understand what I was saying. In a midst all the chaos and shouting at each other, things went black, I passed out cold and I couldn't have been happier.
Left For Dead Part 1 • Opuss № I