Let me save you (Completed/Editing)

Chapter One

Hello Beautiful People,

I haven't written anything since my book called "David", it's been a long time and a lot has happened in my personal life that I had to take a break and focus on me for a change. Hopefully you guys like this book, it was kind of a random idea that I had.

Leave a comment to let me know how you like the first chapter and if I should continue writing it.

Thank you!

Chapter 1

I'd give the world for having one day without being chased by the cops. They don't like drug dealers that much, it's not like I'm breaking into their house and killing their children, I'm simply making a living off of selling "illegal" products.

I was doing a deal and it was going great! Well, until a police car pulled up right in front of the alleyway and I had to dash out of there as fast as I could. That's three hundred dollars that I just lost. To make matters worse, it's pouring rain and all of the clothes that I had washed are still on the makeshift clothesline that I made on the fire escape of my apartment. This day just keeps spiraling into deep shit.

I don't know how long I've been running but I can no longer hear the footsteps and heartbeats of those pigs. Being a werewolf has its perks when you're a drug dealer and thief. I guess I have one thing to be thankful for from my parents.

Speaking of parents, I haven't had those for eleven years. Last time I saw them, my father had a gun pointed at my mother's head, my sister was laying on the floor with her once white dress in pieces. I was on my knees crying out for my dad to put the gun down. But unfortunately, before I could get that sentence out for the hundredth time, my father put a bullet through my mom's head, two through my sister's heart, and then offed himself.

To this day, I still don't know why he didn't shoot me too. I guess he wanted someone to take the blame, which worked because when the cops came, as an eleven-year-old boy, I was handcuffed and read my rights.

I guess the police didn't think to ask why the gun only had my father's fingerprints. It wasn't until my thirteenth birthday that the investigator on the crime revealed this to the court. All they said to me was "We made a mistake." That was it, I had spent two years in a cold cell with very little light, still grieving my family's death. They never thought to ask if I was okay. They saw me as the kid who murdered his parents.

I was released shortly after and was brought back to the house that I witnessed my dad murder, my mother and sister, before turning the gun on himself. My lawyer asked me if I knew any other family that I could go to, I didn't. I didn't have anyone.

He gave me two hundred dollars and told me to find a way to survive. I took his money and bought my self a train ticket to Northwood. A small town surrounded by trees and lakes.

When I arrived here, I had a suitcase of clothes and one-hundred and fifteen dollars to my name. I lived on the streets for about five months before a guy named, Donovan, found me and asked me to come work for him at his garage. He promised me that he would let me sleep at the garage and that he would give me 50 dollars every week.

I agreed immediately and for four years, I worked for Donovan. On my seventeenth birthday, he said that he had a job for me. He gave me a book bag with locks on the zippers and told me to go to an address and exchange that bag for fifteen hundred dollars.

That's when the drug dealing started.

Then, Donovan and I would hit up stores and take things ranging from appliances to food. I was making about two grand a week and I asked Donovan if he could try and find me an apartment. He agreed and three weeks later, he told me that his Ma had a one-bedroom apartment above her. He said that I would have to pay her four hundred each month and I agreed. I moved in the week after that.