Now aware he would soon be safe, Thomas let the phone fall from his limp fingers. His back protested slightly as he rolled onto it from his side. He was going to have bruises tomorrow, decorating his skin like a watercolour. There was a thin line of blood flowing from his lower lip, but Thomas didn't feel any pain beyond the dull ache of his muscles.
He just wanted to go to sleep, but he knew somewhere deep down, that it wouldn't be a good idea. He had nearly died once because he fell asleep while high and started aspirating. Instead, he blinked languidly and waited. At least, he thought, it wasn't a terrible alley to have been jumped and left in. It didn't smell so bad. And he could see the sky.