Earth

The unnaturally loud alarm clock blazed in the ears of Matthew Rider. He groaned, reaching over slowly to slam the damned glowing red thing to the ground. After several failed attempts, he managed to tap the 'snooze' button, allowing him another few minutes before it screamed at him once more. But Matthew rolled out of bed, the springs screeching as they relaxed, and the young man groaning as he stretched and attempted to scratch at his mess of a hairstyle. He stood groggily, pulling his torn jeans from the cold, metal bedpost. Matthew stretched once more, his ribs poking out from under his skin, and crouched down next to his old, rotting bed. Looking around, he smirked as he reached under the bed, pulling out an old, dusty, cardboard 'Vans' shoebox. Matthew opened the lid and smiled, revealing a small stash of various substances.
Matthew made his way out the door and down the street. Passing by friends, customers, and fellow dealers. He worked his way to his 'shop' behind an old Italian restaurant, and began his wait for his regulars. There was Jimmy; at 12:00pm every day like clockwork, would come by and pick up about two hundred dollars worth of marijuana. Two hours later, a few friends would come over every other day and buy some acid; at a discount of course. But today, he was expecting someone new. Somebody his friend 'assured' him wasn't a cop. But just the thought of it made Matthew a bit nervous. He shifted around behind the restaurant as he waited for this new customer. The guy said he wanted a bunch of crap, some of it was really hard to get. This guy better be paying up front.. He thought, as he noticed the shady looking customer approaching.
'Hey man, what's up?' shouted the shady customer.
"Nothing dude. Waiting for you; where you been?" Matt retorted, annoyed at the late customer. He usually didn't stick around for nobodies.
'Sorry man.. I got caught up on some shit.'
"Yeah, well don't let it fucking happen again... You got cash, man?"
'Uh, yeah bro. But uh.. where's the drugs, man?' The man seemed nervous, his hands twitching, his right diving into his pocket.
"Yeah, yeah. I got it right here, man." At this point, Matthew had turned around to pull out the stash from behind the nearby garbage can.
He turned around, paper bag in hand, an expression of shock and confusion stretching across his face.
Standing in a secure position, legs spread and gun in hand, he scowled at Matt, who gazed at his reflection in the mans badge that hung securely around his neck. 'Put the bag on the ground!!' He barked. Matt, dazed and confused, took a few steps back, smashing into the garbage can. The officer waved the gun at him. 'Last chance buddy; put the bag on the ground!!' In his drug induced, confused anger, Matthew threw the bag towards the officers head. He barely made off a "Fuc-" before the officer opened fire.
The first round went straight threw the paper bag, covering the alleyway in a white layer of cocaine, as it smashed through Matthews body; right above his left lung. The second shot splashed the alleyway even further, with both blood, and cocaine, grinding into one of Matthews ribs on his right side. The third and fourth shots made their way just above his heart, just barely scraping it. Matthew Rider was on the ground before the bag was. But he wasn't dead. Blood emptied out of his body through his wounds, leaking onto the cold, dark pavement.
The officers backup arrived a minute later. A minute of sheer agony. Matthew refused to move. Each heartbeat sent floods of pain throughout his entire body. He tried to call out, ask for an ending, but only managed a few bloody gurgles. His body reacted. He coughed, spewing blood onto his face and shirt. The officer stood over him as he called in for his backup. He assured him that an ambulance was on the way, though they both knew it was no use.
The second minute. Matthew closed his eyes as his vision began to fade, but he could only see red. The officer called in again, trying to rush the ambulance. Matt could feel his heart stop. The pain ceased. No more pumping, no more burning pain. He could hear the distant call of the officer. He could feel the hands of the paramedics pulling him onto the dolly. But he was above that now. No more pain, no more addiction. He could still taste the copper blood in his mouth, though it was lessening now. Everything began to fade away, and he began to feel as though he could finally relax...