onsdag den 25. maj 2011


    The air in the small room is thick. It smells like cigarettes and shit. A small drop of water clings desperately to an old, rusted pipe. It falls, existing for only a moment before becoming a part of the small puddle that has formed beneath it. A blind rat makes its halting way to the puddle and sniffs at it. A man groans and the rat scurries back into the shadows.
    The man's coat is thrown across his makeshift bunk, riddled with bullet holes. He throws the bulletproof vest next to it. There's blood on it that's not his own.
    'Fuck,' he whispers. His voice shakes. 'Fuck!'
    They'd been so close to uniting the gangs under one ragged banner. Stayn betrayed him. He balls his hands into fists and roughly wipes away the tears rolling down his hollow cheeks.
    'Fuck,' he sniffs.

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