New Orleans, Louisiana, February 28, 1939.
Pain. That's the first word that comes to mind as I lay on the floor, on my back, bleeding out from the gunshot wounds.
How did it all go so wrong? How did my life turn out this way? I thought in agony while looking up at the ceiling, remembering everything that had led up to this point: waking up in New Orleans decades in the past; being forced to steal to survive; meeting a German shepherd mix con artist named Charlie; discovering that I can talk to animals; being taken in as an apprentice con artist; saving a dachshund named Itchy from his abusive owner and becoming friends with him; meeting a pit-bull Terrier mix named Carface; Charlie, Carface and I going into business by opening a casino; and living the good life until Carface framed Charlie for murder and tried to have me killed.
"Yes, that's where it all started to go wrong," I mused, feeling angry at the unfairness of what had just happened—of being betrayed and left to die.
"Carface, that son of a bitch. I can't believe he ordered his own men to kill me," I raged. Carface always seemed greedy, but I didn't know how greedy he was, or how far he was willing to go.
"Oh God, Charlie." I said weakly, horror filling me as I remembered a few of Carface's men carrying a drunk Charlie away somewhere during a Mardi Gras parade, before I was taken home.
"I need to find them. Lord only knows what they're doing to Charlie right now," I thought in horror. Thoughts of my mentor and friend being tortured and killed fueled my anger and determination.
"Come on Gavin, you need to get the hell up," I gritted out in determination and pain.
Slowly, I started to move, biting back groans of agony. Turning onto my stomach and pushing upwards with my hands and knees, I slowly got back up on my feet.
Standing slightly hunched over, I pressed one of my hands onto my wounds.
"Gotta provide pressure! I need to find Charlie now-just gotta pray it's not too late. I swear when I get my hands on Carface I'm gonna make him regret stabbing me in the back." Vengeance and hatred fueled my strength to keep moving. I stumbled to the front door where I saw a mirror out of the corner of my eye. l looked at my reflection.
"Jesus, I look like shit." I stared at myself in shock. My face was bone white, my hair was a mess and my glasses were hanging uneven with one of the lenses cracked. The front of my shirt and my vest were covered in blood.
"God, I look like I've been through a war zone." I was in shock as I kept pressure on my wounds, moving toward the front door. I grabbed the knob and slumped against the door.
"Made it. Now I just need to open the door." I groaned and grabbed the knob and turned but the door didn't budge.
"What the hell?" I said in disbelief. I turned the knob again—nothing.
"No! God damn it!" I yelled in frustration, this can't be happening! I was so close! Carface's thugs must have nailed the door shut. Turning around, I slid to the floor and started sobbing.
"I'm so sorry Charlie. I failed to save you and now I'm gonna die alone," I sobbed, tears running down my cheeks.
Out of frustration I threw my head back and yelled, "SCREW YOU CARFACE! I HOPE YOU BURN IN HELL!"
I hanged my head and felt regret and guilt for everything bad I had done in my recent life.
"I'm so sorry Mom, I'm so sorry I wasn't a good son. Please forgive me, God forgive me for my sins," I whimpered, laying my head against the door. Then I smelled something faint.
"What the hell?" I said in confusion. It smelled like something was burning. I weakly stood up, gasping in pain.
"It smells like its coming from outside." I heard a crackling noise. Like the burning smell, it was coming from outside. Feeling dread I struggled to the window and looked outside.
"No, oh God no," I spoke softly in terror, my eyes growing wide with fear. There was a huge fire roaring on my front porch consuming everything and heading to my front door.
Those sick bastards are trying to burn me alive! Horrified, I thought, "I need to get out now!" Panicking, I turned around and headed to the nearest window. Gasping, I limped to the kitchen window. I desperately tried to open it but it wouldn't budge.
"WHY THE HELL IS IT NOT BUDGING?" I screamed in fear. Looking more closely, I saw the window was nailed shut.
"No no no," I said, trembling. Moving around the room, I checked the other windows, praying that one of them was not nailed shut, but no luck. I checked the other doors, but like the front door, they wouldn't open.
"This isn't happening, this isn't happening," I began to whimper in horror. I immediately limped back to the kitchen window and out of desperation I punched the glass.
"OW! That was not a good idea!" I hissed in pain, shaking my hand, then the reality of the situation hit me. There was no way out. I was going to die here, all because Carface decided to cut out the middleman and keep everything for himself. I then felt acceptance of the knowledge that I was going die here and it felt peaceful.
"Charlie, I hope to see you in heaven soon. Itchy, I'm sorry we won't be there for you, but live your life to the fullest. Carface, I hope you burn in hell for your sins."
Smiling, I fell down on my knees and clasped my hands together and started praying. Meanwhile the house started to collapse from the fire. I paid no mind to the approaching blaze and kept repenting. Next thing I knew the roof caved in, debris hitting my head and pinning me to the floor. Everything went black and I knew no more.