The crying suddenly stopped. Craig started wailing instead.
"Please, I'm begging you, take me to the hospital. I'm dying. Please," he pleaded, his face streaked with tears and snot. The stench of blood and gas made me queasy.
"Think your pathetic life matters?" I taunted, waving the lighter. He pissed himself in terror. I couldn't blame him - one slip and he'd be toast.
"No, I'm just trash. My life means nothing. Killing me would only dirty your hands," he slurred, pain and fear garbling his words.
"I lost so much blood. I will die. I swear, if you let me go, I won't press charges," he begged.
"If your life's so worthless, why fear death?" I knew his real concern. Every second wasted decreased chances of saving his... appendage.
How laughable! Why keep something only used to hurt oth
