I woke up the previous day were in a daze. Popping three more pills and consuming a slice of cold, day old pizza, I sat on the couch to watch tv when my stomach began to twist and turn. It was as if a pair of strong, burly, hands was inside of me wringing out my intestines as if it were a wet wash cloth. Unable to bear the pain any longer, I let the bitch inside of me win and I take a nap.
I slept for an hour or so but the pain was still present. I hadn’t been gone from my hood long but already my cell was lit full of messages inquiring about my return. In the end my heart-strings were plucked at just the right frequency and I decided to go back. I felt a little apprehensive, I would be going back still a broken man but I had hope nonetheless that everything would work out. I guess a woman’s smile will do that to ya.
It wasn’t until after I returned to the “Wood” that I learned the truth of my stomach pains. I had been poisoned. The very substance that was supposed to cure me was in fact killing me. I reduced the dosage before it was too late but the fact that I was so close to death sent a shiver down my spine. Was it really my fault or had someone set me up?