Chapter 17 : The Heist (Part 2)

All right, so I was going to die. In the grand scheme of things that life threw at me, death was always an inevitable option. It was something you made peace about the older you got. The grace of getting older, some might say.

Dying really fucking sucked.

It didn't feel like drifting off into a restful sleep or like blink and then you in heaven, or really in any of the scenarios I might have imagined death to feel like.

And I imagined it a lot as a depressed young woman who'd suddenly become orphaned at the ripe old age of nineteen and a day. Happy belated birthday to me!

I imagined death to be graceful or solemn.

Not me—this time for real—actually pissing myself. The first time had been a fluke. This time I felt it. I know, I know—very uncool and not heroic of me. Listen, I am a stripper and sometimes a nice fake nurse/glorified janitor. I am not the type of person that will run into burning buildings to save someone's ailing grandmother from the flames. In fact, I had