Rest and retribution
My skin boiled. The idea that I was foolish enough to think people were decent—fucking asshole. It's obvious he has lived in this world a lot longer than I have, and I thought that made him realize how dangerous it was to bring people into it—but instead, I realized he was just another fucking cop. I hate cops.
And we all know: All cops are bastards.
My first instinct was to confront him, make sure he knew just how he fucked up. But, I was very drunk. And very high. Tonight would not be the smartest idea ever—but whoever said I was smart? I dialed his number, he answered, gruffly, "You calling to waste some more of my time? I've never known someone to go back on their word so easily."
The first words that came from my mouth would set the tone for how this was going to go. "Fuck you." I spat. "How the fuck are you going to tell Stacy—"
Before I could continue, he hung up. Motherfucker.
