<div class="floatleft">(http://imageshack.us/a/img195/645/017qrul.jpg)</div>She was late. There was no doubt about it. Time had escaped her and so did a lot of blood. She found herself hiding beneath some sort of platform at a fair. It was early in the morning -<em>I Think</em>- and those people must have been tailing her. They surely could have caught her if they wanted to by now. Maybe they assumed she was going to lead them to a few others just like her. They were wrong. Leaning against the board beneath a stage she dug through her bag, “to hell with this shit,” she mumbled as she began to swallow every drug she had on her. Any normal person would O.D. and die beneath this stage but not Nash. She would most certainly be the highest she’ll ever be and probably feel ill when she comes crashing down from it…  She leaned to the side to maneuver her phone out from her pocket to make a quick call…<br/><br/>“I’m not going to make it,” she states. Hell, she could have been leaving a voice mail for all she knew. She’s already unsure if anyone even picked up.<em>Did someone say hello? Damn,</em>she thought,<em>I’m so fucked up right now.</em>“People are following me…” Carefully she dares to look down at the wound. It was hard to tell where she was hit. Her clothing was soaked right through, her lap and thighs were red too, “wow,” she breathes into the mouthpiece of her phone, “I got no one to fix me up right now,” she is trailing off. It could have been the nausea from seeing her injury or it was the copious amount of narcotics going through her system, “I like be’n no-bud-”<br/><br/>Slipping away never felt so easy.