“Please, stop fighting me. I’m trying to help you.” She frantically pleaded with the stranger to stop resisting. Blood was everywhere. Everywhere she looked she saw bright red. Her clothes were covered in his blood, but there was no time to worry about that. If she couldn’t stop the bleeding, he would die right here. There was no time to be frantic or afraid. Angel had to do something before she had to figure out where to bury him.
After she ran into the kitchen to see if there was anything she could use to drag him inside, Angel grabbed the first blanket she could find. The sleeping bag she used to get him into her SUV was saturated with his blood. There was no time to be concerned about what blanket she was using when a man’s life was on the line.
She grabbed the blanket that was folded on her dining table. She would wrap this around him as best she could. Anything that would make it easier for her to get him inside the house was exactly what she needed. It took every muscle in her body to pull him from the SUV to the back door. Pulling his lifeless body inside the kitchen door was nearly impossible, but somehow, she found the strength to get it done.
The muscles in her arms, back, and legs began to feel like Jell-O. She was so tired. After spending so much time in the freezing cold weather and the snow, she could barely breath. The frigid air was rough on her body and her lungs. She finally managed to get him inside despite the lack of cooperation she felt from her muscles. Her body felt like it would give out, but she knew that couldn’t happen.
Sitting on the floor trying to catch her breath, Angel realized she grabbed the quilt her grandmother made for her as a graduation present. How could she allow something so precious to her be destroyed while helping this stranger? It was the last prized possession she had from her grandmother.
Her mind was racing with the day’s events. Everything was going according to schedule until she found him. Angel was known for the sacrifices she made to help others. Somehow, she felt that this was one of many sacrifices she would make in an effort to save this man's life.
The blanket was the last thing she received from the one person she loved the most. Her grandmother passed away shortly after she left home. Even though it was years ago, she could not bring herself to release the hurt and guilt associated with not being there. Her grandmother died before Angel made it home. The thought nearly ripped her heart out every time she recalled how the one time she failed to make a sacrifice caused her to miss her grandmother’s the last days.
Even though the thought was still very painful, now was not the time to be crippled by something that happened in the past. Angel snapped back to reality and realized that she had something more pressing to deal with at this very moment. Her favorite blanket was still under him. Hopefully it would stop or slow down the bleeding. Angel lost track of time as she tried to figure out the best way to proceed.
With no medical training, she did what made sense. Once she snapped back to the present, she could see from his complexion that he was probably losing his fight for life. How in the world did he end up out here in the middle of nowhere? She had never seen this man before and she was 100% sure that if she had seen him, she would’ve remembered it.
Not too many people ventured out to these parts. The reason she chose this house was because there was very little traffic. After living here so long, she knew all of her neighbors. Living alone for five years made her seem a bit strange to the families who had lived in this area for generations.
Because she was quiet and respectful, she was able to coexist with little or no interference from others. Occasionally, one of her neighbors would come by to check on her, but those visits were few and far between. These were good honest people who took care of their own.
Everybody knew everybody. Any stranger would definitely be under a watchful eye, much like she was when she first arrived. Most people in these parts were simple country folk. T-shirts and blue jeans were common around here. Looking at the way the man was dressed, Angel knew he was definitely from a larger city.
Everything he wore was black. From what she could see, his shirt was black. His pants were black. The socks and shoes on his feet were also black.
What look was he going for, the angel of death? Only God knew who or what he was. At this moment, she only knew that he was in serious trouble.
Exhaustion sat on her like a heavy weight as Angel struggled to gather the strength to help him. She analyzed the situation and realized that she needed to locate the source of the bleeding. The only way she would be able to figure out where the blood was coming from was to get him out of his soaking wet clothes.
His wore a long black leather trench coat. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't budge. It seemed as if the blood was making the coat stick to him. Sitting on the floor, she looked at the guy and shook her head. Angel jumped up and ran to her bathroom to grab a box of gloves as well as every type of wound care medication and bandage she had in her medicine cabinet. The brief break gave her an idea. To get the coat off, she needed to roll him from side to side to release one side and then release the other.
She started with his left side. As she rolled him, she took his arm out of the coat on his right side. As soon as she removed his coat, she could see a pool of blood under him. She returned him to his back and proceeded to roll him to the other side. The sound of a groan alerted her to fact that there must be a wound on his right side.
Finally, she pulled the coat off him. She rolled it up and tossed it close to her washing machine. Now she had to figure out the quickest way to remove the rest of his clothes. Angel had no idea what she would find when she took his clothes off.
Cole Mc Gregor was out of jail a full two weeks and he was right back at it again. He had just finished a five-year stint for selling cocaine to an undercover cop. He talked to his boy Bruce and told him that he needed to be hooked up with a quick hustle. Not having money was unacceptable. There was no way he could start making things happen without money. He was waiting for his boy to bring the product that would help jumpstart his cash flow.
Cole was tired of being broke and listening to his uncle’s ex-girlfriend complaining to him about every move he made. If he had to hear that old bag telling him to get his act together one more time, he was going to snap. When his uncle died, Cole allowed his uncle’s ex to stay in his house. Even though he could have thrown her ass out on the streets.
He had as much right to the house as anyone because she and his uncle were never married, and her name wasn’t on a goddamn thing. She was a good for nothing tramp who thought her shit didn’t stink because he was fresh out of prison. The only thing she did well was talk a lot of shit about stuff that had nothing to do with her sorry ass. He hated living with her and knew he had to get himself back together. The best way to deal with stupid ass people was with money or violence. He had to hurry up and get her out of his family home before he strangled her dumb ass to death.
Why in the fuck was Jolene nowhere to be found? That bitch lied when she told him she'd be here for him when he got out. He was inside a good six months when he first heard that she was hooking up with some other dude. Cole knew if he ever saw her again, he would kick the living shit out of her. All the money he left in her care was gone.
That stupid cunt took everything he had. Thirty-five thousand dollars was stashed in his uncle’s house. Nobody knew about his stash except her. At one time, he trusted Jolene with his life. She never sent him anything when he was locked up. No commissary. No love letters. Nothing!!! Now, he knew she was nothing more than a lying, snaggletooth, two-bit whore.