It's 2:34a.m. in a house my friend is 'sitting' for the weekend and sleepy bodies decorate the living space. We had smoked just shy of a half Q and took a slight intermission to wait for the last man to arrive before continuing, he was throwing down as well. Time escapes us, then looking through eye-sand out the window I see [at least] two men sporting ski masks approach our door.
Then, silence.
Then banging.
A friend and I grab a steak knife each.
This part of my life is called
'Get The f*ck On the Ground!'
{queue the music.}
Fast forward to tireless running, street after street, and moments later I'm the lucky one. I'm shirtless and calling for my friends but getting static instead and the only thought on repeat stream in my mind is: f*ck, All My Friends Are Dead And I Can't Tell Anyone.