Violence - The Shoulder

He tries to raise his right arm. He gets the gun up; points it at the door. Then the arm drops. He tries again. Holding it there. Shaking. Pain. His arm drops again. He looks down at the blood coming from his shoulder.

“Figures I get shot in my shooting arm,” he thinks.

He reaches over with his left hand and picks up the gun. It feels awkward in this hand. He raises it and points at the door again. Propped up in the bed like a sick school boy. Waiting, his left arm shakes not used to the weight. Holding the gun. He knows his aim will be off. But at this distance, all that matters is he hits center mass. As long as he can stay conscious. The blood flowing out of him. He waits for the door to open.