All The King's Horses And All The King's Men

one - 'the son of a bitch is dead!'

"No!" The scream came straight from my gut, showcasing the utter agony I felt at that very moment.

It felt like time slowed, stopping to gawk at the scene infront of it when I dropped to my knees. The rain was relentless and heavy, dropping into my hair and soaking my clothes while the tears flowed freely, mixing with the rain cascading down my face, the ringing in my ears never easing and the twisting of my stomach taunting me endlessly.

Okay, let's go back a little (vast) bit.

January 24th, 6:23pm

"Yeah, thanks, Andy! I'll see you soon!" I yelled after my dealer, slipping the small bag of weed into my dirty hoodie's pocket before turning and starting to walk in the opposite direction.

The amber glowing streetlights lit up my small frame as I walked along the deserted pavement. I turned down an alleyway, the glass from the smashed beer bottles crunching under my feet.

A lone streetlight stood in the middle of the alleyway, and I slid down the wall next to it, turning my head left and right to make sure nobody else was coming.

Sliding my papers, grinder and weed out of my pocket, I started to roll my joint. I have to say, it was slightly difficult with the wind steadily travelling down the alleyway, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

I brought the dancing flame up to my mouth and inhaled as the joint came to life. Silently closing my eyes, I tried to stay in the moment as much as possible and not worry about what was to come when I get 'home'.

I could still feel the pain that taunted my back, stomach, arms and ribs but tried to ignore it to the best of my ability.

Breathing out a shaky breath of smoke, I tipped my head back slightly so it was resting on the cold, cobweb riddled brick wall.

When I opened my eyes again, I was met with the all-too-familiar red and blue flashing lights at the end of the alleyway.

Oh lovely, just what I need, my stalkers.

I humourlessly chuckled and brought the blunt back to my lips, taking a large inhale when my favourite officer rounded the corner.

I stood up carelessly, leaning against the wall with my right leg over the left and one arm crossing my stomach while the other elbow rested on it, my spliff in that hand.

I took an extra long puff on it, just to piss him off, and blew the smoke in his direction. He made his way closer to me and spun me around so my head was against the wall uncomfortably, and started to recite my rights.

"You know Pete, I'm starting to think you're enjoying these... encounters way too much." I smirked, while he placed the cuffs onto me and started dragging me to the car.

He ignored me and just shoved my head down and pushed me into the car.

"Way to be gentle," I retorted, as the door shut and he went to the drivers door. "Jackass." I muttered, before he opened the door.

"You know," I started, as he sat down. "You could just put me in the passenger seat, preferably without the cuffs. Does it look like I'm going to fucking run away?"

You see, I don't care about getting arrested, or any of that shit. It's easy to get out of it with the assets I have. Plus, it just drains more of his money when he has to bail me out; I see it as a win-win situation. If I can't hit him back I may aswell burn a hole in his pocket, eh?

Pete just grunted, and pulled out from where he was parking. Way to shoot me down, buddy. Pete is literally one of the only people in London P.D that doesn't like me, I mean what's not to love?