Chapter Two

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Song for this chapter: Creep by Radiohead

Luke's Point Of View

"I don't have it."

"You what?" 

I sighed and glanced to the side for a brief second. For that quick moment, I thought how not easy was being dragged into this kind of business; actually, being a drug dealer was never easy. Plus, as far as I knew from my 3 years as a seller, once you enter deeply in this whole illegal world, you never get to discover your way out. Every door you're willing to open might carry you to an even more dangerous situation; every person you think can be trustworthy might one day stab you in the back when you're less expecting it. A lesson I've learned through all these years was never trust anyone but yourself or you're going to end up dead. 

Crossing my arms over my chest, my eyes moved forward again and faced the angry and flushed features of one of my most picky clients: Brutus Grant. 

"I don't have your heroine." I said as matter-of-factly. 

Brutus' black and tarnished irises scanned me from the very top of my blonde hair, through my ripped jeans, until he reached out my hidden toe tips. Creasing his wounded eyes, he moved his nasty tongue over his rotten teeth at the same time, which made his appearance even more disgusting that it already was. 

"I thought I'd told I needed it for today." 

I slightly dropped off an ironic and playful giggle escape from my nose, something I knew would probably let the nerves get the best of him even faster than it normally used to; yet I knew from the very beginning that I'd infuriate Brutus for not meeting the deadline he had given me a few weeks ago. Why couldn't I get a little bit of fun with him? I didn't give two fucks about it anyway. 

"Well" I pressed my lips together in a slim line before continuing my speech. "I don't have it." 

Brutus sucked on the tip of his shabby cigarette one last time and then threw it away to the corner of the room; the greyish smoke came out of his mouth flowing in spirals, drawing random patterns amongst the air. I looked at my surroundings; it must be so awful to live in this hollow. The walls seemed to had been swallowed by all the inevitable dampness and paint was cracking out, leaving traces of slits on it; as for the ground, its light-brown colour was gradually fading away, almost entirely covered by various pieces of male and female underwear that were spread all over it. I could scent the evident smell of weed, public restrooms and well, sex

But to be honest, my place was not any better. 

"You know Hemmings" Brutus begun, rising from his unmade bed and stepping closer to me. "I'm starting to lose my temper with you." 

Really?, I thought. As if I hadn't noticed that before. 

Before I could even realise it, his hard grip crashed into my cheekbones and I felt my jaw moving to the side, departing out of its right place. It hurt; obviously it hurt, he'd punched me in the face without me excepting it in the first place. The impact of the strength he'd used to hit me made me lose my balance and I almost fall onto the ground, my back bended in pain. 

Cupping my sore spot with the palm of my hand, I looked at Brutus with a blurred vision. Despite he hadn't put much of his energy on the punch, he was breathing heavily, his chest moving up and down as his arms lied tight aside his sturdy body. Honestly, his appearance displayed that Brutus was way stronger than me: while his shape was compounded by muscles and hours passed by lifting heavy weights, I was simply the taller and also the skinnier guy anyone could ever look at. From a stranger's point of view, Brutus would be the one winning the battle and finishing me in a sudden second; I however had something I knew he'd never be capable of possessing: technique.  

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