Upon coming back to reality pain filled my senses, It felt like I had been run over by a dump-truck. My head ached horribly like I'd been beat. Yelling was the next thing that filled my head.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOCKED HIM OUT? FUCKING IDIOT."

The venom that filled that entire sentence had me shivering in fear, the adrenaline pumped threw my veins and I got off the couch I was laying on and took in my immediate surroundings, the couch was against the wall a window just above it, the walls were painted a copper colour that matched well with all the dark word furniture.Fear filed me when the yelling picked up and a man rolled in the room in a wheel chair, his leg had two clear wounds that were stitched up, but the stitching was so bad it looked like a blind man had stitched it. It was no wonder he was in a wheel chair, he probably couldn't walk on that leg to began with, but even more so with the bad sewing project. he cleared his throat and spoke deeply my attention solely focased on him.

"Welcome to my home, I hope they treated you well, as you have seen I have a problem you need to fix, once you fix it I'll send you home and pay you handsomely."

"An if I don't help you?" I said softly looking at the wounds again.

"Then you disappear, plain and simple."

A chill rain down my spine and I swallowed deeply. my mouth having gone dry.

"I'll um... Help you then."

He smiled like the wolf who finally caught his prey.

"Good Choice."

I took a few steps towards the man and looked at his leg, it was red and seemed to be slightly infected.

"Who stitched these wounds?"

"A dead man."

If that didn't hit me like a ton of lead bricks... My hands shook as I inspected the rest of his wounds, I had seen gun shot wounds before so I knew exactly what these wounds were, that alone was bone chilling but what made it worse was that he didn't go to the hospital. What underground gang shit had I just been dragged into.

* * * * * *

Another man brought me a bag of everything needed to stitch up this guy, however none of it was clean and that wasn't okay with me. I swallowed my fear and spoke.

"Show me to your kitchen, I need to boil all of these to sterilize them, the wounds are already infected on him, I don't wish to infect him more."

The man mumbled angerly in what seemed to be Italian. I followed him as he lead me to the kitchen and I found everything easily. I boiled the tools and removed them carefully to dry. Once they were dry I washed and dried my hands before handling the now clean tools.

The walk back to the room where I would be performing a better version of what had already gone down seemed long and drawn out. If I fucked this up I could be as good as dead.

I pulled out one of the syringes and took the Morphine off the desk. Based on his looks alone I guessed him to weight about two fifty. I filled the syringe and gently shoved the needle tip into his arm and pushed the plunger. My heart was thundering in my chest.

Slowly the large male closed his eyes and I took to pulling out all the gross stitches and cleaning the wound. I took some forceps and dug around in the wound to make sure all bullets and fragments were out of the wound. Slowly and neatly I started the process of sewing his wounds shut. I could feel at least a dozen eyes or more watching me. After I tied the end on the stitches and finished, I turned and gave instructions to one of the guys to get some antibiotics.

* * * * * *

I was lead to a sitting room to Wait until the male woke up and had a good look at my job. That was hours ago....

Two hours to be correct.

When the door opened I jumped almost taking a tumble off the couch. The male was wheeled in and he spoke in Italian before he spoke in English.

"Show our new house member to his bedroom."

( Thanks so Much for reading. - Julian.)