The Only Crime is Getting Caught

{THIS JUST A INTRODUCTION}

"Take this package to 2312 Vern street." My dad tossed a brown package in my hands and I rushed out the door.

It took me about an hour to find that house. He didn't tell me it was on the east side. When I got to the house I knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" A manly, but really deep voice spoke.

I changed my voice to cover up. "Zaragoza."

The door swung open so fast causing a gust of air to hit my face. He smiled a little.

"How much?"

"150."

He handed me wad of cash. "Wait. Let me count."

I counted and it was 50 dollars short. He thinks this is a fucking game.

"I need 50 dollars."

He scoffed. "Can I please have price cut?"

"Hell no! Give me the fucking 50 dollars!"

He tried to close the door, but elbowed him in the mouth. I took an extra 100 and I took the package back because he kept me waiting.

I got back to my house and went to the office.

"Dad. I got th-."

My dad was crouched over with 15 bullet holes in his back. A tear didn't fall. How bad is that?

"What happen?!"

Chresanto, my dad's youngest worker barged in.

"I don't know. I went to go deliver a package and I came back and he was like this."

He looked around. "Gather all of the drugs your stuff and get in the car! We gotta get another hideout."

I did as I was told and grabbed a majority of the drugs and some if my things . I looked at the house thinking of good and bad memories.

"Ready?"

I sighed. "Yea."