Nearly Dead

I am shocked to life from my deep sleep by the piercing roar of a train, passing through behind the forest of trees. Instinctually, I swing to my feet, just to find the signature of alcohol beat in my head, knocking me to the ground. Knowing I should lay down a moment, I try to grasp the faded memories of last night, which are slipping away by the second, last I remember I was at a table with, I believe an Ace of Hearts and Jack of Diamonds. There was a detail I do remember though, that one man. With cheap clothes, masked in the scent of car oil. With every play we looked more and more pissed off. His fist knocking on the green countertop, with a face like he's ready to kill. I open my eyes to the sun shining in through the blinds, stretching across the room, and smacking down on my face, blinding my left eye. I flatten my hands and push myself up, just to limp and nearly hurl. I need to get to the bathroom. Looking down at my white t-shirt, I realize my clothes are painted in dried blood. I look into the unstable mirror at my curled over the knees body, with a ripped shoulder sleeve, beaten face, and now that I look at my side, a bullet from a gun.