58

  -Angel

  I'm awake.

  I'm awake?

  Shit.

  There is a gigantic pulsing pain streaking from my forehead to my neck.

  Shitty shit!

  And the doctor is convinced I need to see it.

  After a cursory glance at the enormous knot protruding over my right eye, I drop the handle of the mirror.

  He rattles on about my "intraparenchymal hemorrhage with contusions." Or some idiot crap like that.

  I could not care less if I wanted to.

  It's useless.

  I'm useless.

  A complete failure.

  Shit. Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shitty-shit.

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

 

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