_{ORIGINALGRILLA.}

_{their  audience  is barely acknowledged.    the most he does,   as they fight their way down the hall,   is serve a couple of hard looks    —    like he’s daring someone to make a move,   to step in.    but they know better.    they know  bullet,   and they don’t say a damn word.}

_{neither does holder.    not when they board the elevators down,   not when they arrive at the holding cells.    not even during processing when a  knife  is confiscated.    he takes that,   too :   she can have it back tomorrow.}

_{it’s all he can do not to grit his teeth as the cell door clangs shut with her on the inside.}

_{an officer starts to speak.    he cuts him off.       ‘     don’t talk to her.    don’t even  look  at her.    i’ll process her out in the morning,   we clear ?     ’}

_{he waits for a nod and then turns to walk out,   heedless of her protests.    it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.}

_{‘     g’night,   bullet.     ’}

_{this isn’t the  first time  she’s been in a cell.    has to remind herself of that when he forces her in,  feet scuffing the floors and weight thrown back for the  umpteenth time  in one last attempt to resist.    one swift turn and her palms strike the bars.    once,  twice,  three times.    she calls out to him and it sounds more like a half - plea     –––––     a pathetic exploitation of vulnerability.}

_{fingers curl around those bars,  shifting a step closer to the cell door.    she stares him down and tries to ignore the beat of her own heart,  the blood rushing in her ears.    thinks it might just be a  sick game  he’s playing out of spite until the realisation sinks in.    he isn’t dicking around.}

_{and that just makes the balloon of anger inside of her chest swell again.    it climbs into her throat like bile,  spilling out into words when she curses and flips him the bird from in between the bars.}

_{❛     go t’ hell !    ‘n say hi t’ ya momma for me when you get there,  you fuckin’ pussy ass bitch !    ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA.}

_{‘     yeah,   ‘n you ain’t foolin’  nobody  with all them layers.    you’re like  ninety - five pounds  soaking wet    —    my  lunch  weighed more than you.      ’}

_{delivered as a quip,   but the connotations aren’t as lighthearted.    she’s small enough to be overpowered by someone bigger than her.    stronger than her.    someone like goldie.    someone like the  pied piper,   who shattered the bones in her wrist and beat her senseless before leaving her to  bleed out  in the trunk of a car.}

_{he remembers the expression on linden’s face when she told him not to open it.    you don’t need to be here.    please,   holder.    remembers that moment of soul - crushing realization before he’d lifted the lid.}

_{cellophane crinkles as he draws out his cigarettes,   pulling the driver’s door shut.    lights one,   passes bullet another.}

_{‘     buckle up,   li’l man.    this ain’t a limo service.     ’}

_{❛     hundred ‘n three,  asswipe.    ❜     the doctors weighed her in at  ninety - four  the day of discharge,  just a couple of weeks before    (    in other words,  she’s reaching,  and he probably knows that.    )}

_{as most of her opponents can begrudgingly attest,  bullet is stronger than she looks,  and puts up one hell of a fight.    a one hit knockout just isn’t her style.    enjoys the adrenaline rush more than she should.    never had to remind herself that  it doesn’t hurt if you’re not afraid  until goldie got ahold of her.    until the pied piper finished what he started,  tying up those loose ends.    she felt  fear  then.   real,  visceral fear when she knew it was the end of the line.}

_{she half - expected not to be found.    holder didn’t give a shit about her.    no one did.    is that how kallie felt ?}

_{after ducking into the passenger seat,  she pauses to serve one of her  looks  before sparking her cigarette,  a lighter she’d pickpocketed from another detective still in hand when she volleys back.}

_{❛     –––––     hell no.    you first.    set a good example.     ❜}

_{ORIGINALGRILLA.}

_{she’s relentless,   and five minutes feels more like five  HOURS.    he has to tune it out until it’s white noise    —    even then,   his ears are ringing by the time he gets out of the car.    there’s a rigid,   almost sour look on his face,   jaw muscles taut and tense.    no  shit  she’s holding ;   what did he expect ?}

_{‘     yeah,   you got  stuff  on you ?    where ?    huh ?    where is it ?     ’}

_{fingers still curled in a vise - grip around the fabric of her hood,   his free hand starts to search her pockets.    a few seconds and he’s letting out a harsh scoff as he pulls out an ounce bag.    he’ll flush it later.}

_{‘     the  fuck  were you thinkin’ ?     ’}

_{thing is,   she probably  wasn’t.    not about anything other than making the pain stop.    he’s in no position to judge but he still doesn’t let her go.    doesn’t even break stride as they head for the station’s entrance.}

_{it’s gonna be one hell of a night.}

_{❛     up yo’  momma’s  ass !     ❜}

_{she knows there’s no point in telling him because he’ll find it regardless.    and if not,  someone else will,  then notify her probation officer of the violation.     (    she’d like to think holder wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that,  but he’s a cop,  and bullet doesn’t  trust  cops.    )}

_{it doesn’t matter what she was thinking.    what  matters  is that he appropriated the last of her stash,  and still presses forward to the doors.    as if she’s going to go easy.}

_{the ruckus draws attention from  several  officers.    some she knows,  some she  doesn’t,  and some of whom watch as this  five - foot - three,  ninety - something pound tomboy  is manhandled and kicking up a fuss.    he doesn’t relent and neither does she,  despite the strain it puts on her voice.}

_{❛     where’re you takin’ me ?    huh ?    you gonna put me in a  fuckin’  cell ?    come the fuck on,  quit trippin’ !     ❜}

_{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.}

_{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     –––––     ❜}