I never said he was dead... just given a second chance.
Keller awoke on the cold floor of his apartment, the beams of late-afternoon sun peering through the curtains on the windows, parsing through the soft clouds of cigarette smoke that drifted through the room. The only sensations he could process were the cold wood floors, the ringing in his ears, and the dull, throbbing pain in the back of his head.
"Damn, bro. You took a way bigger hit than you could handle. You been out cold for like 30 minutes. I thought you were dead."
Keller, still on his back, turned his head towards the voice and tried to focus on the speaker. As his mind slowly drifted back into consciousness, he registered the facial features and finally matched them to the voice that he recognized: his friend and partner-in-crime, Cortes. Keller groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, slowly pushing himself to sit upright. When he did, he noticed a tingling sensation in his left hand like it was about to go numb. It didn't take much inspection to locate the cause: the elastic band was still tied tight around his arm, and a needle was still sticking out of his forearm. Keller pulled the needle out angrily and untied the band.
"Fuck, Cortes. Don't just let me pass out with the damn needle still in my arm. Jesus."
Cortes' eyes were already starting to glass over as he began to slip into a haze from his own high. "Oh. Uh, yeah. Sssssorry about thaaaat. I couldn't... I waaasn't... yeah."
Keller groaned as he got up onto his feet. His headache was getting worse; that was the problem of passing out during your high - no enjoyment, just the after-effects. He'd have to call his dealer for a resupply, but he knew he was short on the funds. Keller slid open a drawer and pulled out his 9mm pistol, stuffing it in his waistline and covering it up with his shirt.
"I'll be right back, Cortes. I'mma go get rich real quick."
His friend mumbled an incoherent response as Keller left to drive to a gas station several blocks away. He parked his car on a nearby residential street and walked hurriedly down the sidewalk, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head as he approached the gas station. Pushing open the doors, he burst into the station and immediately pulled the pistol, pointing it straight at the man working at the register. "Open the register! Give me everything that's inside right now, or you die!"
The clerk didn't flinch. In fact, the look on his face was almost one of pity. Keller was baffled, but still determined. "Did you hear me, asshole? Open the goddamn---"
"Freeze!" demanded an authoritative voice from behind him. In his rush to chase his next high, Keller had failed to notice a police officer getting coffee in the back area of the gas station. Angered and frustrated, Keller would not let anything get in his way. He whipped around to take aim at the officer, but the double-boom of two successive gunshots preceded him. The hot lead crashed violently into Keller's rib cage and abdomen; the next several moments seemed to proceed in excruciatingly slow motion.
His vision of the interior of the gas station convenience store blurred; but layered over it, in painful clarity, were flashes from his life. The family he had let down and the friends he had let die, the happiness he had lost chasing the high that was his lust. Every agonizing detail was laid out right there before him, so vividly that the gas station itself had already faded to black. Only the memories remained.
I messed up. I messed up really bad. Mom, Dad, I'm so sorry. Just... just give me another chance. Please.
Now, even the visions had faded; even Keller had faded. Only the darkness remained.
---
Keller awoke on the cold floor of his apartment, the beams of late-afternoon sun peering through the curtains on the windows, parsing through the soft clouds of cigarette smoke that drifted through the room. The only sensations he could process were the cold wood floors, the ringing in his ears, and the dull, throbbing pain in the back of his head.
"Damn, bro. You took a way bigger hit than you could handle. You been out cold for like 30 minutes. I thought you were dead." The words seemed to have prophetic meaning now.
Keller again propped himself up on his elbows, confused. "Yeah... Yeah, I did too."
As the reality of the situation finally settled in, tears began to well in the young man's eyes. He looked to the man he knew as his only friend - the one friend he'd managed to keep for over ten years.
"Cortes. I love you like a brother, man. But get out. Get out of my house, and never come back."
Tears rolled down Keller's cheeks as he looked upwards. His eyes only saw the ceiling of the house; his soul saw far more. Thank you. Wherever you are, whoever you are. Thank you. I won't let you down.
