Hostage #2

I pull my legs underneath me and it feels like I have never pulled my legs underneath myself before. What inner ear infection, how the pain pulses into your throat into the sternum snipped and resewn so many times but no one ever loses count. Vertigo and I say to Trevor, don't hit him with a crowbar, don't hit him with a tire iron. There is a news report and it says hours later that you hit him on the arm. Bruce Lee's flow-like-water, bruises on both. Children upstairs. Is that the hardest part, there were children upstairs sleeping. If you ask me, I don't think they were asleep, although. In a university in a time far away one of these children will write an essay in their very first English composition class that they are ill-prepared for about this night, their parents being hog-tied and poorly knotted backs against each other worrying about the last time they fucked because that is what you do when your life is about to end, worry about the last time you fucked your wife.