Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ACT ONE. a waitress, a drug dealer and a teacher walk into a meth lab! CHAPTER iii. ❛ THE CAT'S OUT THE BAG AND THE BAG'S IN THE RIVER...❜
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SEPTEMBER 27th, 2008. ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO.
AS THE ENGINE OF WALTER WHITE'S PONTIAC AZTEK died down, Jesse Pinkman glanced over to his left. Two and a half weeks had passed since the chemistry teacher's bizarre proposal. And since then, almost nothing had changed. Of course, they'd talked plenty about what needed to be done. Finding the right equipment, determining a location, what their end goal was. But with so much time having passed and so little being done, Jesse was sure this would fade into nothing. A silly idea maybe that they could reflect on in the years to come. But, unknown to Jesse, Walter White didn't have those years to come. And he was as serious as ever. So, when the man pulled up into Jesse's wildgrown driveway, he thought it best to wake their partner up.
"Hey, August," Jesse whispered.
He tried nudging the girl with his foot.
August remained in a peaceful slumber ━━━━━━ crashing in the drug dealer's yard. Despite the fact it was the middle of the day, the hot sun had lulled her to sleep. Jesse had simply left her to it. Instead, he took the time to stare at the girl and determine everything that had changed since high school. And, subsequently, everything that hadn't. August's hair was different now to how he'd remembered it. Though the same auburn curls, the sunlight brightened it differently. More red than brown, and longer slightly but not by much. It was pulled now into a messy ponytail at the top of her head, her baby hairs curling at its side. She looked like one of those sleeping cherubs he saw in mass as a child: soft pink lips and eyelashes so long they brush against her cheeks. August was undeniably beautiful; in a vulnerable doeish kind of way. But her years of hardships were still very apparent. They had woven themselves into her skin and took on the vessel of faded white scars, bloodied nails and frightened murmurs in her sleep.