I put the food from Mom in the fridge. It looked the same as when Taylor and I left the day before. Which I was expecting because I had the camera trained on the front door, though Endgame would sometimes climb through the window, usually when he was high and feeling paranoid that people were following him.

As I closed the fridge, I remembered standing in this exact place when Endgame climbed through my window for the first time. The noise had set me running to the living room as Endgame fell over an end table and broke a glass sculpture I had on it.

“Shit. Sorry. I was coming in here and everything. You weren't supposed to hear me.” He picked up some of the jagged pieces in his hands. Then he dropped them as the pain from the cuts he was earning hit his nervous system. “Shit.”

This fucking guy. The same one that planted drugs on me, held me at gunpoint, and the one I had kissed was back.

I flipped on the light and left to get the broom and dustpan from the laundry room. When I came back, he was propped against the couch, sitting on the floor. His leg was bleeding, the red puddle under his knee alarmingly growing while I watched it.

I abandoned the broom and ran to the bathroom for towels. I made a pit stop at the kitchen for scissors as well.

After I kneeled next to him, he held up his two bloody palms. “I got shot. A few blocks from here. And you know what? I thought if I’m gonna die tonight, I want that man’s lips on mine one more time before I go.”

I ignored him and started cutting his jeans so I could find the source of the bleeding. “I’m going to call 911.” I paused to dial and he snatched the phone and tossed it across the apartment.

“Nah. Those meat wagons are expensive as shit. And they’ll want to know what I’m on. And who I am. I ain’t got time for that. I’d rather die than end up owing some asshole money to put me in a dress with my ass hanging out.” His pupils were dilated.

I was at a loss of what to do. I went back to cutting his jeans. Eventually, I found the source of the blood. The wound near his outer thigh was deep but on the surface. I put pressure on the wound and he hissed.

“Shit. You got to be pretty and hurt me all at once? Figures. Life’s never easy.” He put his head on his shoulder and the next time I looked at him, he was passed out.