_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{it’s a rash decision,   one he’s likely to regret in hindsight,   but they have  twelve hours.    twelve hours to sober her up,   get her shit together    —    at least to a passable degree    —    before she’s at risk of disappearing into the system.    just another statistic,    like most of these kids.}

_{of course she puts up a fight.    it’s  bullet.}

_{he’s been where she is,   and he knows damn well that you don’t listen to  reason  when you’re in that place.    that’s why he doesn’t say anything.    struggles to get her in the back seat,   kicking and screaming,   child locks engaged.}

_{the station is a ten minute drive from here,   depending on traffic.    he’ll make it in five.}

_{twelve hours might be enough time to dry out,  but she’ll still smell like the floor of a divebar,  and hangovers aren’t easy to kick.    all that binge - drinking and  recreational substance use  kept her on  cloud - nine  until it became more about numbing herself up to the hurt,  refusing to feel that  ache  in her chest longer than she  has  to.}

_{boots scuff against the ground,  her body weight thrown back in resistance.    when that doesn’t work,  she twists until she thinks she finds the leverage to escape,  only to be thwarted again by a firmer grasp.    her left foot kicks out against the back passenger side door the first time its opened.}

_{she only laughs out of spite.}

_{anger boils in her blood to the point of blinding hatred,  and she baits him with it.    taunts him,  even as he parks outside the station and exits the vehicle,  dragging her out by the hood next.    that’s when the reality sets in.}

_{❛     yo,  what th’ fuck !    you can’t    ––––    i got  stuff  on me,  c’mon,  man.    le’me go !    i ain’t  done  nothin’ !     ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{‘     nobody’s puttin’ you on lockdown.   don’t you worry about that.     ’}

_{she’s like a wild animal,   in some ways    —    everything on her terms.    he’s been careful not to keep her on a leash,   to let her make the first move ;   if she wants to roam the streets,   that’s her prerogative.    the only thing he’s asked is that she drops a line if she plans to be gone for more than a couple of days.    a call.    a text.    they even came up with a  code word.    beyond that,   he’s made it clear that she can come and go as she pleases.}

_{be safe.    that’s all.}

_{one of his hands emerges from his pocket,   circled around his car keys.    a tip of his head gestures for her to follow before he starts walking.}

_{‘     c’mon.    freezin’ my  ass  off out here.     ’}

_{it’s never been anything short of a challenge,  living on the streets.    weathering the elements,  the bitter winters and endless rain.    a month into squatting under bridges and in abandoned buildings,  she  almost  thought she wouldn’t make it    (    but she did,  and hasn’t looked back.    )}

_{you can take the kid off the street,  but never the street out of the kid.    it’s who she is.    who she  wants  to be.}

_{and she  respects  him for acknowledging that.    at least until child protective services steps in.    she falls into pace close behind,  warming her hands in the cotton - lined pockets of her jacket.}

_{❛     ‘cause you ain’t got no  meat on your bones,  bugs.     ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{she’s wasted.    he can smell it on her.    that,   and the stale weed that accounts for dilated pupils and sclera shot through with red.       ‘     you listen t’ me,   and you listen good.     ’       voice dangerously low,   he’s got her by the front of her jacket.       ‘     this is a  long  ‘n ugly road you’re goin’ down,   and it’s gonna land your stupid ass in juvie quicker than you can fuckin’ blink.    think your PO’s gonna go easy on you ?    like this is a fuckin’ game ?     ’}

_{‘     disorderly conduct,   public intoxication    —    you ever dried out in a drunk tank,   bullet ?    huh ?     ’}

_{he lets go just to snatch her up again,   by the hood this time,   none too gentle.    forcing her to either fall into step with him or be  dragged  the whole way to the station.}

_{‘     ain’t got  fuckin’  time for this.    move  your ass.      ’       @junkyardteen x.}

_{she’s  been  wasted.    seven days straight,  squatting with poochie,  on - again,  off - again addicts,  avoiding lyric and twitch like the fucking plague.    avoiding all responsibilities like the little  junkyard bitch  she is and grieving in her own way.    a way that’s comfortable,  albeit detrimental.    to her mental health,  to the promise of a better life.}

_{and maybe that was the  point.    maybe it was  survivor’s guilt  or whatever the hell the  textbook definition  is of what she’s feeling.}

_{but even inebriated and practically seeing double,  she can still put up a fight.    and so she does,  thrashing and yelling and digging her heels in,  elbow jabbing into his side.}

_{❛     get off me !    get   ––   the hell  off  me !     ❜}

_{his wisdom had fallen on deaf ears.    she doesn’t care about the consequences.    she cares about the bottle of colt that hit the ground with a shatter and the ounce in her pocket.}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{‘     whatever,   THUG LIFE,   i got  mad  game.    pull out’cha notebook,   ‘cause class is in  session  ‘n you boutta get  schooled.     ’}

_{❛     you sound like an  idiot.     ❜     she’s listening.}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{probation officer.    court - assigned shrink.    regular visits from a couple of cps goons.    add to that the looming risk of juvie because she’s  fifteen  and out of school and seems to attract trouble like a magnet.}    

_{sometimes he has to stop and remind himself that she’s been out on her own    —    more self - sufficient than most adults in their  thirties    —    for almost three years.    other times,   it hits like a brick to the gut just how fucking  YOUNG  she is.    too young to have seen half the shit she’s seen,   but life doesn’t cut you any more slack just because you’re young ;   if anything,   you get  less.}

_{one last drag of his cigarette and it’s flicked across the lot,   sparking briefly against the asphalt.    he wouldn’t be surprised if the fist - to - wall impact strained her healing wrist to the point of a fracture.    but even now,   especially  now,   a hospital is out of the question.}

_{‘     yeah.    but i gotta take a look at that hand first,   ‘cause i  know  you ain’t gonna ice it after you bounce.     ’}

_{it might be re - fractured,  or might just be sprained.    she’ll be feeling it later regardless,  when the adrenaline wears off and the anger dissipates.     ❛     …  ain’t like it’s life - threatening.    ❜     but the grief might as well be.}    

_{because the  grief  is what’s going to hurt the most in the morning,  afternoon,  and night.    not a broken wrist.}

_{but if this is what it’s going to take     (     allowing someone other than  herself  to tend her wounds and patch her up like a rag doll    )    to put food on the metaphorical table for her friends,  she’ll comply.    the  look  she serves makes it clear that she’s less than thrilled,  and he’ll be lucky if the knee - jerk reaction isn’t to knock his teeth out.}

_{❛     swear you ain’t gonna put me on  lockdown ?    ‘cause i know how t’ pick a lock from the inside     –––––     ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{‘     thought that shit was  badass.    yo,   look,   i’m just sayin’,   if you need tips    —    which you  do    —    offer still stands.    i got you covered.     ’}

_{❛     yeah,  ‘n all  i’m sayin’  is,  the only time i ever seen you  holla at the shorties  was when you got ‘em  locked  in an interrogation room.    keep poppin’ them  viagra  pills ‘n stay  outta  my business ‘fore you get'cha feelings hurt.     ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{‘     uppin’ your  street cred  to  holla at the shorties    —    you need all the help you can  get,   li’l man.     ’}

_{❛     p’ft.    whatever,  yo.    chicks dig scars.    don’t need t’ show off no  bruises     –––––     that shit’s  weak.      ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA :   bugs.}

_{‘     oh,   snap    —    bullet’s got  jokes.   how’s the wrist ?     ’}

_{❛     ain’t that bad.    looks kinda cool.    check it.     ❜     she pushes up the sleeve and holds out her arm,  showing off the bruising that circles around her wrist,  the  tender  skin across her knuckles.     ❛     pretty  badass,  huh ?     ❜}

slugsister:

im dealing with my shit the way im dealing with it. are my methods unhealthy? yes. are they effective? no. am i going to change what im doing. no