My stomach contracted, but before I had a chance to lift my arm, Gunner was there, forcing my hand on to the wooden slab in front of me. He folded back three fingers and my thumb, leaving my index finger exposed; it all happened in a split second but felt as if it was happening in slow motion, almost as if my brain was unable to catch up to what was about to happen, but at the same time, it was able to predict ahead of itself, and it already knew the outcome. And in the blink of an eye, he picked up an axe and brought it down, taking off my finger at the knuckle and sending a jet of blood shooting out around the room. I screamed in pain and my instinct was to grab my hand and place it under my arm, but blood was squirting all over and I was starting to hyperventilate. That was when Gunner moved in with a smile on his face, almost like a dog that’s been looking at a bone all day long and is about to sink his teeth into his prize. His fist smashed into my head, sending me into the land of darkness and a land I wished I could stay in.
I came to several times, feeling the punishing blows rain down on me, only to fall back into the black abyss that allowed me to escape the pain.
I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth, eyes that were swollen shut, and a body that felt as if it had been hit with a wrecking ball. I parted my eyes enough to take in some of my surroundings and I was at home, on the floor in the lounge and there was blood all over my new carpet.
My battered brain tried to recall the reason I was lying on the floor struggling to get a breath into my broken body. My severed finger was bandaged but still bleeding. I reached for my phone, feeling about on the floor until I found it. I scrolled to Mick’s name and hit the call button and put it on loudspeaker.
“I’ve been calling you, where have you been?” Mick asked.
“Come … here. My place … Pez. Help.” I gasped as I faded into oblivion again.
“Jesus! Are you OK? I’m on my way, Luke, I’ll let myself in with the key you left at mine. Hang in there, mate.”
I woke when Mick came through the door. I flinched, unsure who it was at first and I tried to stand up and I knew that I had several broken ribs.
“Fuck me. What happened, Luke? Here, try and sit up. Jesus, there’s blood everywhere. You need to go to hospital, pal, you need to get fixed up.”
I heard the words but I was that weak I couldn’t find the energy to speak as the cloak of blackness enveloped me again.
I woke up in a hospital bed, with bandaged ribs, a patch on one eye, a bandaged hand and drips coming out of both hands.
A nurse walked into the room as I lay taking in my surroundings, contemplating how bad it had been.
“Good morning, Chris, my name is Maree. How are you feeling today?”
Chris? I was confused but went along with it. “Err, yeah, I’m sort of OK, I think!” It hurt to talk.
“Do you remember what happened? You were dropped here just after eleven o’clock last night, and the only ID you had on you was your credit card. Oh, and a mobile, I’ve popped them in the drawer next to you.”
I attempted to reach over and groaned in pain, so the nurse reached into the drawer and handed me my card and phone.
“There you go,” she said, as she handed it to me. “Can you remember what happened?”
I looked at the credit card and the name - Chris Mather D.O.B. 21.6.83. Good old Mick had used a fake card and then dropped me at the door. That way, he wouldn’t be questioned about my injuries.
“To be honest, I can’t remember much. Was my wallet found? I remember being hit from behind and that was all.”
“No, unfortunately, there was no wallet. We did have to inform the police about your extensive injuries though. It may come as a shock to you, Chris, but you have lost part of your index finger on your right hand. It seems that a tool was used to sever the finger. The police asked us to contact them as soon as you regained consciousness so that they could come and interview you. It’s vital that they catch whoever did this.
Shit, the last thing I needed was the police sniffing around.
“What injuries do I have?”
“You have four broken ribs, extensive internal bruising, a severed finger, a broken nose, and a fractured eye socket which required surgery last night to insert a small metal plate, hence the eye patch to keep the stitches clean. Apart from that, you have bruising to most of your body. You’re going to feel sore for a while yet.”
“Wow. OK. Why the drips? Can you take these out?”
“Your right arm had antibiotics pumping into you to help stop any infection forming in your finger. The tool that was used was not very clean, and the drip in your left arm is morphine pain relief. How do you feel, apart from very uncomfortable and sore?”
“I feel OK. A few days of rest and I’ll be fine. Would you mind if you waited until this afternoon before you call the police? I’d really like to get some more sleep first, I’m feeling really tired and I can’t remember much at the moment anyway. Maybe after a sleep I’ll be able to remember a bit more.”
“No problem, as my patient, you’re my first priority. I can call them after lunch; have yourself a nice sleep and then something to eat if you can manage it. Maybe then you will feel a bit better.”
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