My head reels.
I hear voices.
"He's alive!"
"We'll I'll see to that."
"No! No you won't Mr. Knives!"
I can still smell things.
I can still smell the faint scent of Vash's gunpowder, as well as his brothers. I smell the stench of July's livestock. But it's overwhelmed by that of the girl with the eyes. She smells good. Like perfume, but not the cheap kind the whores used to wear.
I feel like dying. Oh how easy that would be. My wounds are bad. My trigger hand, or my trigger arm I should say, is gone. I'm blind at the least. Multiple chest wounds. It would be oh so easy to let it all go. The pain. The anger. Just let everything go.
But for some odd reason I can't. Maybe it's survival instinct, who knows.
I try to sit up but I feel a hand push me back down. It's big, but soft. Like a woman's. But no the kind who mean's to hurt me. I forgot what that was like.
Maybe the end isn't so bad. A kind woman's touch isn't the worst way to go.
I try to sit up again, then darkness.