Page 145 of Asystole

I’ve been through this song and dance before, but even I have to admit, things don’t look great for me this time.

As a professional motocross racer, it comes with the territory. Luckily for me, I was born with a congenital condition that makes it so I can’t feel physical pain or temperature.

Unfortunately, that also means I tend to take more risks than the average person, and I’ve been told numerous times it’ll kill me one day. The other unfortunate side effect is that until my body forces me to blackout from blood loss, I’m usually awake for everything that happens next.

My two main sponsors rush to where I’m still lying in the fourth turn of the dirt track as I try to survey the damage done to my bike. That was a low blow even for Barfton, and I have no doubt that he did it as payback for my taking the championship title last year.

At least I didn’t fuck his girlfriend when she showed up at my tent.

This is what I get for being the nice guy.

My breathing is shallow which tells me the problem is pretty significant despite my inability to feel it, and I finally become concerned when my vision grows blurry.

“Casey,” one of my sponsors calls before the voice of my best friend, Penny takes over.

“Goddammit, Case. Keep your fucking eyes open. Do not make me straddle your gurney and pry them open myself, you little bitch.”

I think I smile, but I can’t be sure.

Penny is redneck royalty. The mobile home monarch.

She’s cutoff jean shorts, terrible bleached blonde hair, and thick eyeliner in a color way too dark for her pale skin. And she’s my ride or die. Been there since the beginning, before the motocross circuit made me somebody and my privacy was reduced to nothing as my face graced billboards, commercials, and internet ads.

It’s amazing what a team of professionals can do for someone’s image and thanks to their expertise, I quickly went from scrawny, poor dirt-bike rider to an American bad-boy wetdream.

The improved appearance, along with my general no fucks to give attitude, turned me into someone everyone wanted to fuck and my attention became my most valuable asset.

But I’ve worked hard to remain true to myself and I’m proud to say that other than my acne riddled skin, the only thing the money changed was my address. Otherwise, at twenty-four, I’m still the same rough around the edges kid I was when Penny and I would ride bikes to the convenience store so she wouldn’t be home when her old man woke up sober and madder than an alley cat until he downed another twelve-pack.

My body lifts and then settles again. I feel pressure, and something feels like it’s sitting on my chest making it hard to breathe, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Let’s step on it, man. He’ll be lucky if he only punctured one lung and not both.”

Wait. Penny.

I try to move my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Damn, they must be flushing the good shit already. I didn’t even see the IV go in.