My eyes flickered open and I could only squint into the darkness.  My head ached and I could feel a watery substance sliding down my face toward my jawbone. There was no sound but that of my own breathing as I tried to focus on where I was and how I had gotten here.

I reached up toward my head, which was wrapped in some kind of bandage. Blood soaked through the cloth and continued to leak down my face.  My head was spinning as I gathered my thoughts.

I remembered feeling out of place. I know I'm a criminal but I wasn't about to do what the rest of them intended to do. I was a getaway driver for the mob. It was good pay and I rarely got asked to do much else but drive. On occasion I was used as an enforcer to rough people up a bit if they were late on payments and such, but I never hurt anyone who didn't have it coming, and certainly not women and children. That's what they were planning, and I refused. Why was I recruited for such a task? Why was my name thrown in the mix? The mob has nothing to do with this...

The air smelled stale and I was suddenly more afraid than I ever had been. I was going to die here, I felt it. Would I ever see my family again? My unborn child? Was I going to die at the age of 31? Panic entrentched my veins and I stood up only to find my feet in shackles.

Yeah, I thought, this might be the end of Ronnie Coulombe.

The End

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