Weeks passed slowly, eating away at Phillip’s mind as he sat at home and healed. Phillip didn’t want to be thinking about his situation, but it was unavoidable thinking back on that day when he nearly passed in that tank. Now Phillip stayed in a broken down hotel in the middle of South America with no air conditioning.

He was losing weight too. Damn his arthritis for making Phillip so unmotivated to move. He blamed that for his loss of appetite.

Back at home in Texas, Phillip could have called a neighbor over to help him out, or at least talk to someone, but but the place he was staying in was shit, so Phillip refused to even acknowledge his hotel neighbors. He also couldn’t give away his identity, along with showing vulnerability, to someone he didn’t know. Anyone could be an agent out looking for him. 

Phillip heard a soft, muffled knock on the door while he was flipping through channels on the busted TV, causing the man to look up at the door. He still hadn’t found what to watch, and everything playing was mindless garbage, so he wasn’t missing anything when Phillip set the remote aside and stood up-with strained effort to hobble to the door. His mind must have short circuited for a split second while he grabbed the doorknob, since he’d usually check peephole to see who was there. He didn’t even wonder if it was a neighbor or not when he swung the door open and looked at the person behind it.

“What-” 

The words died on his tongue when he felt something press against his lower abdomen, an inch or so under his belly button. Phillip’s eyes dropped down to see what on earth that was, his eyes immediately widening when he caught a glimpse of a familiar glimmer. He didn’t even have time to process that it was a gun when the trigger was pulled.

In a blink of an eye, Phillip was on the floor, body trembling and bleeding. He wanted to move when he heard footsteps come into the room, but everything below where the bullet hit was unfeeling. His breathing hitched, mind going into a frenzy.