A Craving For The Bastard's Touch

I had a hunch Doc Phil was lying to me about my health, it was more than that, I could tell when my body was at its peak, and now certainly wasn't one of those times.

The swelling in my chest and the burning sensation that coursed through my veins was enough indicator that I was dying.

In what I thought were my last moments, I recalled another memory of when I was younger, of when dad was murdered.

It was a memory I'd never forget, the day I committed my first murder.

********

I stared wide eyed at the gun served on a silver tray in front of me.

I had only ever seen guns in tv shows, it was my first time ever seeing a real one.

"Take it." Bronx ordered, acting as the overseer of the initiation, or whatever the hell these people called murder.

I frowned at how much heavier it was than I imagined, and how much colder it felt in my palm.

But I couldn't complain, because apparently I was getting the easy treatment.