I inched along the hard soil on my elbows and stomach like a worm. My burnt broken hands clenched in a fist- to stem the pain and the bleeding. I was out of morphine, and had taken the last of the fentanyl. I could hear Chirps in my head.
I knew that if he saw me now, pushing myself, elbow over bloody elbow, over the cracked and splintered glass cutting myself as I passed through broken shards- just to find a most probably dead, Minder-Bot- he’d call me a stupid fuck-faced retard who deserved to be crawling through broken glass like a worm.
But fuck’im right? He doesn’t get to tell me what to do- especially now that the dumb fucker was dead.