Crossfire
“It was Dom, I was sure of it, shaking me, talking close to my ear. He was panicky, out of breath. Scared.
'Pete's gone . . .' He said it over and over.
'Pete's gone . . . It's all my fault . . . I'm so sorry, Nick. I've got to go . . . I've got to go . . .' Was he crying? 'What the fuck you on about?' 'I've got to go . . .' He was a blur, but it was definitely Dom. He sobbed something I couldn't quite hear. 'What you on about, mate?' I tried to push myself up but he stuck out an arm, told me to... rest.
His head moved closer to mine. 'Nick, no matter what you're told, it wasn't me, OK? It – was – not – me . . .' I felt him grip my hand. I tried to make sense of what the fuck he was on about. My head was still full of whatever shit had been mixed with the morphine.
'Wasn't what? Wasn't you who what?' He squeezed my hand. 'You'll know soon, when the drugs have worn off. They'll tell you.
Remember – it wasn't me. Say it, Nick.' 'It wasn't me . .MoreLess
'Pete's gone . . .' He said it over and over.
'Pete's gone . . . It's all my fault . . . I'm so sorry, Nick. I've got to go . . . I've got to go . . .' Was he crying? 'What the fuck you on about?' 'I've got to go . . .' He was a blur, but it was definitely Dom. He sobbed something I couldn't quite hear. 'What you on about, mate?' I tried to push myself up but he stuck out an arm, told me to... rest.
His head moved closer to mine. 'Nick, no matter what you're told, it wasn't me, OK? It – was – not – me . . .' I felt him grip my hand. I tried to make sense of what the fuck he was on about. My head was still full of whatever shit had been mixed with the morphine.
'Wasn't what? Wasn't you who what?' He squeezed my hand. 'You'll know soon, when the drugs have worn off. They'll tell you.
Remember – it wasn't me. Say it, Nick.' 'It wasn't me . .MoreLess
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