"I'm going to beat his face in!" As I stomped towards the truck to deck the driver, an iron grip closed on my small arm. The cop seized my other arm and wrestled me back to the driver door, opening it with effort for me.
Blood splatter coated all but one wall in spite of having been clearly scrubbed with strong chemicals. A double mattress was crammed in the corner, completely bare save for more stains and a crusty duvet cover. My eyes traveled to the rails on the head of the bed, settling on the restraints that dangled from each corner.
All seems too perfect: Kenny is sober and thriving and Skye completes her training, but when she comes back to visit, she finds Kenny has a bone-chilling secret.
I knew how to handle these situations on the streets, but obviously I couldn't stab anyone here. I didn't know how to get rid of him in this new world with new rules.
He passed the CD case around and everyone snorted a line through the same rugged $20 bill. I was last. There was one remaining fat white line resting on the case and I swear it was looking at me with a challenge glinting in its eye. I stared at it.