Someone was saying his name. No, not someone. Two people. The screams turned into a mix between a groan and a whimper. He tried to listen. Maybe they knew what was going on. Maybe they could help. God, let the pain stop. Please. A noticed a hand on his shoulder. George? No, the voice sounded differently and there was no bad smell hitting his nostrils.
Stay. Yeah, that was something doable. Not moving seemed to be very much in the limitations of what he was able to do. Exhaustion started to battle his body. But the pain won and kept him awake. He opened his eyes. The light wasn't as bright as it had been. And fucking hell, it seemed to come right out of HIM! Jesus Christ! He didn't only feel as if he had ripped apart, it had actually happened! Panic gripped him. His eyes widened. He needed to shut the wound, someone needed to shut the wound! Didn't they see!
"Help! Please... help!" His own voice appeared in his head again. The echo of a scream. He was going to die. That was it for him! No more Real Hustle, no more teasing George and Maryanne. And he would never ever see Annie again. Fuck! He wasn't ready to let go.