I

There’s a bullet in my brain. I shouldn’t be alive. That’s not the case. I see you looking at me. I know I might look strange. The blood and the bits of bone. Not to mention the hole.

II

The light is wrong. The sun is warm. I turn to look. My face stares at the light. My skin is still cold. I am going to die.

III

The air tastes like copper. It must be the blood. It flows into my mouth. It’s last. The last thing I will ever taste.

IV

Six feet underground. That’s my stop—the end of the line—subway of souls. 

V

Morton Mills pulled the trigger. Mort. His name means death. Mills. Another name for a slaughterhouse. 

VI

Ghosts can’t breathe. They can stare. I never wanted to be like them.  

VII

Gunshots are loud. Silence is quiet. 

VII

My ears are ringing. The bells will stop.