yellow

I hope I bleed out before I burn
I hope I bleed out before I burn
I hope I bleed out before I burn

I sat by myself. My usual corner at the bar. Alone, waiting for business to arrive. I noticed her walking towards me. Dominic was playing Yellow and this woman knew all the words. Danger, I thought to myself. As she came closer I knew business had arrived. I hoped Dominic wouldn't play any more Coldplay. She sat down, didn't say a word, lit an Ultra Mild and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. The job was simple enough. Something I'd done before, something I knew a few things about. The money wasn't great but I had a pending payment to make on my house. I took it, I did it, cleared the payment and officially became a home owner. All good.

The troubles started a week later. It was ladies night at the bar. I had an off day and the mood was good. Till I saw her. I don't like meeting my clients after a job. Invariably makes things awkward. She walked towards me. Sat down, lit her cigarette. Dominic started playing Yellow again. She sang for the next five minutes. Her cigarette grew ash and lay forgotten. She looked at me with that same dead expression. Said she had another job. Every instinct said no, this was a terrible idea. I shrugged and said sure. It's what I do.

Things were going to go to hell. She was going to screw me over. I knew the score and in knowing thought I'd be prepared. That was my second mistake. By the time I was through with her I'd make a few more.

It was simple enough. I was sure that the knife would try for my back when I set it up. It didn't. Proceeded like clockwork and by the time it was done I was even thinking that maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was no knife.

The Skoda parked outside my house was the first clue. No effort at hiding. I clearly had visitors and I knew who it was. She was sitting on my couch. Smoking her cigarette, listening to her I Pod. I wanted to ask if it was Yellow but the two heavies by her side distracted me. She took off the ear plugs and congratulated me on a job well done. I wanted to smack her across the face and throw her out of my house. I refrained. Stayed my hand. Waited to see if this was a warning, a “I know where you live” kind of deal or something a little more permanent. I never saw the third heavy behind me. Never saw the blow and didn't feel a thing.

I woke up tied to a pole. Head spinning, I could feel the hair at the back of my head matted and thick with dried blood. I heard the click of a zippo opening, a flame as the lighter came to life, the stench of her fuck all cigarette. The bitch was here. In this room.

I passed out again when she stubbed her cigarette out on me. Not very brave. I know.

I fucked up. This was the thought I regained consciousness to. My hands were tied to a pole, I was standing in a bucket of water and thoughts of torture came swiftly. The bitch was standing there. Smoking her cigarette, looking at me. I had a whole bunch of questions but this bitch didn't monologue. She didn't speak. Luckily, there was no torture. Just her heavies working me over. I can take a punch. I'm proud of it. Still, three fists pounding your guts in rotation isn't something you ever want to experience.

I woke up again sick to the stomach. Every heave hurt my insides. I wasn't tied up anymore but it didn't matter. I wouldn't be going anywhere. The shoe came out of nowhere. The contact to my nose was precise. Mashed potato with ketchup. I screamed. Asked her what the fuck she wanted. The next kick had me curled up and I saw Venus when her foot made contact with my head. I felt it bounce off the floor and I truly madly deeply wanted to die.
What happened next only happens in the movies. The hero making a last ditch comeback and managing to survive. Except, I wasn't a hero. Never was. Maybe I deserve everything this bitch is throwing at me. Doesn't mean I have to take it.

I grabbed her foot as she swung
I did the twist and turn till she spun
The heavies weren't around, gone for lunch
I smiled as head hit floor with a crunch

Standing up was difficult. My nose hurt like hell and my insides felt like jelly. The bitch was out. For now. All I wanted to do was get out of there. The questions could wait, she could wait. Get out of there before the gorillas arrive. Too late obviously. I managed to swing at the first guy but it was pretty pathetic. When he hit me, I returned to the floor with something like warm familiarity. The bitch was getting up. I was right back where I started and I was done.

I have no idea what I've done to her. Absolutely none. She seems certain enough and still in no mood to explain. She said it would take me a few hours to bleed out. She said it would give me time to reflect. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm tied up, my insides are slowly spilling out and this is it. When I smell the petrol and see the fire on the outside of the shed I know there are no more comebacks.


I hope I bleed out before I burn
I hope I bleed out before I burn
I hope I bleed out before I burn