Chapter 2: Whoops
Silence slammed down, thicker and heavier than Bill’s body on the tiles. The only sound was that maddening plink… plink… of the faucet, louder now in the sudden void. Daniel stared at Bill’s prone form, blood already pooling dark beneath his head where the soap dish struck, his own breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps that scraped his throat raw. His legs felt like water, threatening to buckle under the weight of adrenaline and the lingering, deep ache Johnny had left inside him. Johnny wiped his split knuckles absently on his ruined jeans, the movement jerky, his eyes fixed on the door, not Bill, his jaw clenched like a trap. "Move," Johnny rasped, the word rough as gravel, already grabbing Daniel’s arm just above the elbow, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, pulling him towards the scarred exit, leaving the bartender bleeding on the filthy floor.