_{“     yo,  doctor death !    how’s it hangin’ ?    you pumped for halloween ?     ”     //  @freeguilt}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{‘     the kinda shit that’s gonna get’cho skinny ass  beat,   son.    yo    —    look,   i said you could help out ‘cause you were gonna do it either way,   right ?    but it ain’t your job.    don’t know why you’re so  interested  anyway,   ‘cause,   believe me,   this case ain’t all that.     ’}

_{scoffs,  cocking a brow.     “     think i can’t take a couple low - rent  punks  ‘n beat their ass ‘round the block ?    what the hell d’ you take me for ?    alright,  look,  if you ain’t got anything that checks out,  then fine  ––  but if you  do,  then you  gotta  tell me.    i can help,  yo !    i’m good at it.     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{he doesn’t doubt it.   there’s a rasp of a laugh,   brushed off as he shifts his weight with a noncommittal shrug.       ‘     got a couple new leads.   nothin’ you need to be  sniffin’ around  for.     ’}

_{“     think i’ll sniff where i want.    don’t get me involved then do a freakin’ one - eighty !    what kinda shit is that ?     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{that’s the thing about  acceptance.    you don’t get there all at once,   like a train rolling into the station ;   it’s a long,   uneven road,   fissured and cracked and often uphill.    it’s slow.    sometimes you fall,   or take a wrong turn and have to backpedal.    sometimes you don’t move forward at all but freeze in a kind of limbo,   a paralysis that clutches at your heart and holds on.}

_{she’ll get there when she gets there.    this is the same kid who cold - cocked him in the gut and woke up from a coma because the doctors said she wouldn’t.    he has  faith.}

_{her face pinches into that telltale grimace and he flicks away his cigarette,   drops into a crouch at her side.    doesn’t reach out uninvited    —    he knows better than that    —    but he finally takes the bottle away.    pours out what’s left    (   a couple of pulls,   if that   )    and sets it down.    jaw tight.    throat thick as wet cement.}

_{he can smell the reek of malt liquor ;   the sour aroma of bile and thin sweat.    it’s familiar.    he hates that it’s familiar.}

_{‘     –––––––    i got you.     ’}

_{this is the  easy part,    before the bed - spins and the skull - splitting headache and the way her stomach will heave and pitch and churn like the ocean during a storm.    it gets worse before the skies clear.    every time.}

_{her mouth tastes like sewage.    gritty and sour.    this is the worst part about getting  shit - faced.    you could be twenty - one and getting the full college experience,  thirty - five and a functioning alcoholic,  or fifteen and emotionally exhausted     –––––     you’ll still feel like roadkill when the booze  turns on you  like an ex - best friend.}

_{shoulders  ache  from the strain,  her spine rigid.    almost chokes on the last pitch of bile in her throat and heaves for a breath afterward.    she’s a goddamn mess of cold - sweat and watering eyes and flushed cheeks,  and it’s not the first time.    not the first time her throat’s felt like raw meat and her skull felt like it’s being split in two.    not the first time she leaped ten miles over the line in the sand.}

_{(     bullet doesn’t have many  first times  left.     )}

_{just when she thinks she’s in the clear,  the second round hit like a freight train.    a punch to the gut.    by the time she’s finished,  everything hurts.    but at least the pain was physical.    (    that’s all she wanted.    to stop thinking and stop feeling like her heart was the world’s punching bag.    )}

_{“     …  wanna go home.     ”}

_{home.    or the closest she’s got to it.}

adatrox    _{*  raynne.}

      a sigh lifts, sounding irritation for a heartbeat.   ‘    hate when you do that.  spit it out.   ’   

_{“     bite me.     ”     a more civil alternative to  don’t tell me what to do.     “     just wondering if you seen someone.    shaved head,  looks kinda like a hard - boiled egg.    stupid - ass socks ‘n a rank hoodie  …  ?     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{‘     whatever.    you  smoke  like that crazy old bitch.     ’       not that he’s one to talk.       ‘     y’ ever seen her up close    —    like,   real  close ?    'cause that’s what you got t’ look  forward  to if you don’t keep it fresh,   you know what i’m sayin’ ?     ’}

_{“     nope  —  just through the glass,  which is where linden’s gonna be seein’ me when they  lock me up  for straight murderin’ your  scraggly  ass,  fool !     ”    empty threats must be on special.    she isn’t above socking him in the gut again to prove a point,  though.     “     yo,  you get any more leads on that  case  that i should know about ?     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{only if they’re a  success.    he likes to think he’s less easily manipulated than most.       ‘     why you always gotta be such a hater ?    i’m like a fine wine,   you know,   just gets better with age.    ‘n you best start exfoliatin’,   y’ hear ?    otherwise you’re gonna wake up one day lookin’ like  mama dips.     ’}

_{he’s wrong.    but she’ll save that discussion for a later date and instead focus on the conversation at hand,  which boils down to defending her own honour.     “     yo,  listen,  i ain’t no  expert dermatologist,  but i think i got about forty more years ‘fore i start lookin’ like  that  crazy old bitch.     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{he’s  holding himself back  because there’s a difference between tough love and beating a dead horse,   and he’s not sure where on the spectrum it would fall but it feels more like the latter.    at least while she’s still  drunk.    (   he’s not an idiot.    knows from experience that trying to reason with someone in this state doesn’t yield positive results ;   he  was that someone.   )}

_{‘     second thoughts about keepin’ your skinny ass outta foster care ?    hell  no.     ’}

_{it’s not just that,   but his answer would be the same either way.    reassuring,   almost,   to feel like he’s finally making the right call about  something.}

_{‘     two years ain’t nothin’.    had a jar of peanut butter sittin’ up in my dojo for longer than that.     ’}

_{there’s a difference between coping and defense mechanisms too,  and she’s gotten her wires crossed trying to  protect herself  from the trauma rather than  deal  with it.    five stages of grief,  five stages of emotional bullshit she has to wade through like quicksand.    likes to think she’s reached the acceptance stage but she  hasn’t.    not with a bottle of malt liquor in her hand every night.    she’ll get there.}

_{the way he says  foster care  reminds her of that night at seattle’s police station    (    before i bury your ass so deep in the foster care system,  you’ll never get out    )    and she almost says something,  almost  unburies  that hatchet just out of spite.    but it’s not worth it.}

_{if the roles were  reversed,  would she not have acted the same ?}

_{“     think i ate some of that.    either the label was wrong or smooth peanut butter goes  crunchy  after it expires.     ”}

_{talking about food makes the nausea worse.    the cigarette held between index and middle finger trembles and so do her hands.    she’s staring down at the bottle and contemplating whether to pussy out when the  bile  pitches into her throat without warning.    body twists in a lean,  booze and stomach acid and whatever was left over from her last meal spilling out onto the concrete.}

adatrox    _{*  raynne.}

      dishevelment plays an easy pair to the slow curl of her attention, set only briefly on the speaker.   ‘   no, love, sorry                                 i wasn’t listening.   ’

_{scoffs.    pushes up the sleeve that droops to her wrist and rolls her eyes.     “     forget it,  yo.    doesn’t matter.     ”}

originalgrilla    _{*  bugs.}

_{‘     watch y’self,   li’l man.    you gonna be surfin’ through four channels on basic cable if you ain’t careful.     ’       not really.    (   like he’d ever be the one who deprives her of  animal planet.   )    brows raise in mock offense.       ‘     oh,   what,   you think i’m frontin’ ?    alright.    but lemme ask you this    —    when’s the last time  your  lady went home satisfied,   huh ?     ’}

_{“     oh,  quit trippin’.    you know better’n that.     ”     bullet wouldn’t  shut up  about it on principle.    her manipulation tactics are truly an art form.     “     t’cht.    ain’t got a lady t’ send home satisfied.    don’t need one,  either !    you’re the one who ain’t gettin’ any younger,  bugs.    fo’ rilla.     ”}