Elizabeth was a no-one. She lived in a small house, with her son who she could barely take care of, and a cat who wouldn't go near her. She wasn't a lawyer like her sister or the doctor her aunt wanted. She sold drugs to the people of New Mexico, sp...
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I've always been told that being great is always better than being good at something. For example, I'm good at painting, cooking, and firing a gun. But I'm great and cooking meth. 84% purity to be exact. Pretty good for a solo woman. If only my father could see me now. Counting my drug earnings in a small enclosed office, with a picture of my son a few centimeters away. I could've been anywhere else but yet here I am, a continuous problem to the DEA whilst my sister works with them every day to put criminals like me away for the rest of their lives. Too late to quit now.
14,729$, my total earnings for the past week, not bad, maybe enough to finally get Hunter a bike. Placing the money in my small safe behind my desk, I leave my seat to walk out towards the decrypted building. The abandoned garage worked well for a base, especially with the amount of privacy it gave. However, it was risky, considering I didn't own it. The 2 big glass garage doors, were covered in newspaper and graffiti, but there was a small opening that I could see out of when I sat on the hood of the rusty car. I could see the vast expanse of the desert that lay in front of me, the hawks that would circle the dead prey, and the species of cactuses that expanded all across the land. Sometimes it was calming, other times it made me yearn for the cold. I sat looking out the window at the very few cars that drove by when a red 1982 Chevy Monte Carlo pulled into the abandoned gas station that sat directly beside my building. Immediately my guard went up as I watched intently to see maybe if it was someone who was lost. But when I heard 2 male voices, slowly making their way over, I ran for my gun.
It was lightweight and had a spray-painted pink skull on the handle that sat where my trigger finger lay. I leaned against the wall opposite the door, as I waited for them to make a move. I could faintly hear their two voices as they began banging on the garage doors, preferably to get a reaction from whoever they thought was in there. I continued to wait and I just hoped that they would leave. After 10 minutes, they had walked around the entire building, and I grew impatient. So, I slowly walked to the main door that was covered head to toe in newspapers. Pushing open the small door, a crack I couldn't see nor hear them talking anymore. With my gun raised, I headed out into the sun. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the atmosphere where I saw the two trespassers straight ahead.
Their backs were facing me as they seemed to be in a heated conversation. Complete opposites, one tall and younger and the other shorter and older. A father and son perhaps. Gun still raised, I made my way over slowly, watching for passing cars as we were in broad daylight. Once I got close enough, I released the safety and cocked my gun, both men tensing up immediately.
"What can I do for you fine gentlemen today?" I ask sternly to the two strangers. They don't respond, but the older one on the left began to slowly turn around to face me. And when he did, my jaw went slack.
"Are you shitting me? Mr. White?" My old senior chemistry teacher stood in front of me looking just as surprised to see me as I was him. The grip on my gun lessened slightly, as I tried to process what was happening. The other man began to turn around shortly after and when I met his eyes, I forgot how to breathe.
