Black City (4)

My eyes land on the note. The white writing on the black paper burns into my vision, and I shake my head. No. I keep shaking my head, struggling to rise. I am grateful no one can see me. I must look utterly pathetic. Like a cripple, I lie there, flailing to stand as water streams down my back. The floor is slick, and my right leg gives out beneath me. I collapse, chin slamming into the edge of the table.

A sickening crack echoes in my ears, and I gasp sharply. Pain shoots through my teeth, and the world tilts. My vision blurs, and I am left sprawled on the cold, black, polished floor. I taste blood. Gingerly, I move my jaw side to side, the ache deep and raw. My tongue probes my teeth, feeling the gritty remnants of something lodged between gum and lip. One tooth wobbles ominously. I curse under my breath, rolling onto my side like an injured worm, forcing myself upright inch by agonizing inch.