It was never supposed to be like this. I was never supposed to follow in my mother's footsteps. She was the junkie, not me. I was the brilliant child, straight A student with the "unfortunate" home life. The one the teachers all felt sorry for.
Grades don't matter when you life in the dope world. I'd come home from school every day to people passed out on the floor, or scrapping their car in the front yard, or fucking my mother in my room, because hers was already so full of garbage she was embarrassed to take them in there.
It was only natural for me to learn the tricks of the trade. Todd was the one who got me on my feet. He was also the one who showed me what bodies are for. Drugs and sex have a profound effect on the mind of someone that young.
I'd learned how to sell from him, too. Maybe he felt bad for pulling me in that hard, that fast. Maybe he saw a chance to make a partner he could actually count on. Whatever it was, it had made me enough cash to drop out of school and float by. Better than float, actually.
My life was a dream. Drugs, sex, rock and roll. I'd been renting a beachfront condo. My teachers couldn't convince me to stay in school, I'm not stupid. I was making more money than them. My mom? I left her in the trailer I grew up in. I guess it blew up a year or so after I left. I never went back to check.
Six years was a long run, considering I was barely 14 when I started selling. I knew it wouldn't last forever. I had too much traffic. I started to avoid my condo, choosing motels, cars, or just not sleeping. I quit paying rent on the condo, but it was still never empty. Almost a full year after the last night I'd spent there I got raided.
If Todd's son hadn't kicked my ass and stuck me in his trunk the day before I would have been at the condo when swat busted down the door. I was planning on going back to get...I don't even remember. It wasn't worth it, and Jeremy knew it.
I swung first, and didn't stop. I landed at least 15 solid hits before he swung back. He wouldn't fight me, and it made me more angry. I just kept going at him, and he took it and took it and took it. I knew he was reaching his breaking point. I could see it in his face, hear it in his voice as he begged me to stop, warned me that I was pushing him to far.
I'd never met him before then. He had been in prison for the last 8 years, multiple charges. He had been 18, and got off easy because he was tried as a minor. When he saw me walk in to Todd's house like it was mine, he knew who I was. Todd had written to him every week, sometimes he even sent pictures in.
Jeremy could hit a lot harder than I could. I went down with the first hit, and it should have been over, but I was to stupid and proud to stay down. I got back up, and he turned around and started to walk away. I spit at him and called him a coward. He turned around I only had a moment, a glance at his face, to know how bad I'd fucked up.
I woke up in the trunk. I could hear raised voices, Todd's, Jeremy's, and two voices I'd never heard. Then the sound of a police radio, very close to me, asking for a license plate. The officer read off the plate- my car! It was my own trunk! I froze, glad I hadn't started yelling or kicking. I heard the dispatch return the registration information. It was registered to Todd.
Todd had sighed, and I heard the distinct sound of handcuffs. I could hear him talking to Jeremy, talking fast. He told his son to fix what he'd fucked up, make it right, and to find Berries, at all costs. Find her and get her safe.
Berries was Todd's nickname for me.
I don't know how much longer I was in the trunk. Hours, maybe. I could hear the car being hot wired, then driven for a long time. I seemed like hours. I could hear Jeremy talking, muttering to himself. Finally the car crunched over gravel, for a bit and stopped. The door opened and closed. I had no idea what was coming next.
(edited)
