Between the retching, sweating, and shaking,
He desperately reached for his phone.
Pleading with his guy for a delivery, he begged for a front.
Unsurprisingly, “no fronts” was policy in this line of business; no exceptions.
Defeated and getting sicker and sicker, he mustered the last bits of strength he had
To go out and
Do a Job.
Except that one. He wouldn’t do that again. That one made him feel a filth that covered him in a blanket of shame.
After the job was done and his delivery was received,
He laid back as his poison numbed him with warmth and a false sense of both happiness and safety.
For a split second he wondered how something that started as nothing more than a bit of fun had become so
Hard to Maintain?
As the poison coursed through his veins he wished he had been more