My burned meat sticker to the metal wall.
What now?
What do I do now?
Police will be here any moment. Media too.
I'll be a bigger scandal than the Diddy baby oil scandal.
The bottles of oil would be more understandable too. Taxidermy stomachs of thousands of omega exact in the moment of blooming?
Not so easy to explain.
Which only leaves me one escape plan—
Destroy and retreat. At least for now.
Ok.
So-
I am in a room full of my fingerprints and taxidermy.
The police must be by the middle of the hallway now, so that gives me about 2 minutes until they reach this room.
My wife and I had a bad fight.
And my skin is glued to the wall.
But, on the positive sight -
I still have the syringe.
And I am not bleeding internally.
Fine. Easy.
I pull.
The scab tears first, then the soft tissue under it.
Feels like ripping duct tape off raw flesh. It comes slow, sticky, wet. Blood runs down my spine in thin lines.
The smell is cooked meat and antiseptic.
