Do I Regret Anything?

I contemplate my life as I lay in the hospital bed. I know these are my last days.

*Do I regret anything?*


I was bodyguard to the president before his impeachment, after that an enforcer for the mob. I guess, that is what I am most known for, and maybe that is what I regret.

“How do you feel today?” the man asked as he closed the door behind him.

I do not recognise him, he clothes are not that of a doctor’s.

“As best as you can expect. What’s the prognosis?” I ask, he leans towards dialysis machine.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Brice says, my bodyguard, as he enters the room.

The *doctor* leaves with a sheepish look.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure. What was that about?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, boss. Just get some rest.”

I relax into the pillow, happy Brice is here.

*Do I think people will miss me when I’m gone?*

I doubt it. After they tried to send me down, but there was not enough *evidence*. You could say I was hated. However, I did what I needed to, to survive.

I woke up the next day with Brice standing over my bed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said, smiling, “You feeling any better?”

“Actually, yeah. I may beat this after all!” I laughed with a croak that turned into a coughing fit.

“Brice, what are you doing?” I asked, confused as he pulled the pillow out from behind my head.

“Sorry, boss. Today is my day in the Death Pool, I’ll make a cool million. Just go with it.”

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