Not a Rat

 

 

I can tell he’s a tweaker. His face is a skull, skin pulled tight over bone, leaving hollow eyes that seed of want. He’s sitting on retain wall. His back is bent like a question.

In the down pour, in the dark, in the South Village by the river, he’s answering none of mine save for that he’s been stabbed in the back. The blow missed his heart, his lungs, his spine. The wound is four and half inches deep, two and a half inches wide. 

Breathing in short gasps, he still plays the name game, says, he doesn’t know anything. He’s not being rude, but he’s not a rat. 

I follow his ambulance up to the ER and win the game. He’s hot with two big wants for felony theft, meth and heroin. The docs sew him up, give him two Advil, and release him to me. 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Lance]

That seems like a quick release... Was it because they knew he'd get further help w/your team?

[RD]

No. They can't release him until he is stable.