We slumped against the filthy walls of the same alley in which we were assaulted. The enemy had encroached our little hideout, some even ambushed us from behind. I caught a quite familiar whiff.
Striking and metallic, leaning toward the more foul side. It was a bothersome stench, wafting through the air. And such stenches were emanating from none other than our own bodies. Our battered bodies. Cuts, and scratches and swollen areas. If anything, that stench had to be our blood.
The blood of failures.
I didn't have the eyes to prove that it was blood. It was too dark. But I did know we took quite the beating. We were beaten left, right and center. There was not a single place in which I hadn't felt pain. An excruciating aftermath indeed.
