𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟-𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑

Barry

Abby's POV

As I walk through the mud, the brown mush splatters on my white jeans. "Lovely." I wouldn't be here if I hadn't promised JJ weed, but I always keep my word. I unzip my boots and take them off before setting them down on the porch. "Open up!" I yell, knocking on the door. "Alright, I'm coming!" a male voice yells from inside this dump. As he opens the door, his eyebrows raise. "Knife girl!" he greets, surprised to see me here. "Hey, Barry. I need some weed and some good shit too. I'm gonna grab some coke while I'm here if you got it."

He steps out of the way, letting me in. "I've got some new shit in. Premium weed and a little bit of coke left," he says, closing the door. He walks over to the ottoman, pulling up the top of it. He grabs a clear box and opens it up. The smell of weed fills my nose. As I look at the box, I see the different grams of weed sectioned off. He points to a fuzzy gram of weed. "This one is the strongest. It's called gorilla glue and this one smells and tastes like chocolate. I do have other flavors though."

"What's the THC content?" I ask, looking at the gram. "29," he answers. Damn. Not bad. "Which one is your favorite?" I ask, knowing he always picks the best of everything when it comes to drugs. He points to a gram of weed with a lot of orange on the top row. "This one. It's called girl scout. The name is stupid but it's great." He picks it up with a pair of tweezers, not wanting to touch it too much. "It tastes similar to a lemon tart or cookie and the high lasts for hours because the THC content is 28 percent. The only thing with this is that you have to take small hits and only a few. If you take too many too fast, you can get paranoid, which I know happens to you sometimes."

"I'll take 10 ounces of the girl scout shit. What about the coke?" He walks out of his living room and comes back with a small ziplock filled with coke. "I'll take 3 grams," I say, pulling out three 500 dollar bills. "You're fifty bucks short," he says, taking the money. Shit. "Can I get that to you tomorrow? We both know I don't scam." He nods his head. "It's only 50. I trust you." He walks to his bedroom and stays there for about two minutes before walking out with my drugs. "Here you go, knife girl."

I give him a smile before walking towards the door. I immediately knock myself into the wall right next to the door as I see a certain blonde walking towards here. "I need to get out of here. Do you have a backdoor?" I ask, walking away from the door. He shakes his head. "Fuck," I whisper. "I can't explain. Just don't say anything about me," I say, running to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me. "What the fuck!" he yells.

"Shhh!" Before he can protest any further, a knock on the door draws both of our attention. He walks away from his bedroom door before opening the door. "Country club," he greets, not happy about his visit. "Hey man," Rafe says, entering the home. I can hear his boots making the wooden floorboards creak. "Look, I need something. I'll pay double. I just need a little something," he says, his voice shaky. Barry is his dealer? Fucking hell.

"Look man, I don't know what to tell you. I'm out of coke and even if I wasn't, I wouldn't sell it to you." A hear a dry laugh escape Rafe's lips. "I was arrested because you decided to be a fucking rat!" he yells. "The least you can do is sell me just a little bit of coke. I need it, man," he says, his voice softening. Barry turned him in?

"I'm sorry man, I can't. It's for your own good."

"My own good?" Rafe laughs. "Ratting me out to the fucking police was for my own good!?"

"You killed someone!" Barry says, his voice raised. "Then you tried to kill one of the pogues. Then you said killing was fucking nature. You are fucked in the head! The coke isn't helping." No no no. That was not the right thing to say. He's going to get himself killed.