Normally I don't follow my clients home. After all, what kind of rookie mistake would that be? I'm not stupid and I'm definitely not some bloody wanker who gets off on watching people shoot up. But this boy… he was special.
He had intrigued me from the first moment I set eyes on him. Tall and thin with piercing grey eyes and a mess of curly dark hair. Now I'm not gay or anything so don't get any ideas, but I'm telling you he was something spectacular. As most business relationships go, I never got to ask for his name. It was one of our 'rules'. Oh God, I really hated those rules. They made me really paranoid, not knowing entirely who I was selling to. It could be anyone, some important kid, or an undercover cop. But they were the norm. and if I wanted to keep my business afloat I had to accept them without a second thought, but I always wanted to know more about grey eyes. Not because I didn't believe him, but because there seemed to be more to him than the usual junkie.
Ahem. Back to the story. Like I said, I don't usually follow clients home. And that story should have remained the same for Grey Eyes. It's not my job to judge or care what my clients do with the materials I give them, just so long as they pay me. He would only buy cigarettes off of me, along with the occasional white balloon of cocaine, and he always paid up front. Rich kid. He went to Hudson, the richest boarding school in the area. Which I confirmed, after, well… After I followed him home. I'm really not a stalker, drug dealer's honor! I just thought that there was something about him that was worth investigating. So I followed him, keeping well behind him, and trying to look inconspicuous. And I didn't think anyone had noticed.
A few months after I had been selling to this kid, some weird things started happening. I would sell him his cigarettes and start walking home, and I'd notice the street cameras following me or I'd catch the eyes of a few more people than one would expect. I thought I was just being paranoid or something, but it kept happening, until one day I was walking home after selling some coke to Grey Eyes and I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out expecting a text from another client or maybe my mom or Harry, but instead it was a blocked number. I thought it was weird, I'd only ever gotten blocked phone calls, and so I opened it up and froze when I read the text.
Get in the car.
Panicking, my eyes flew upward, scanning the streets. Thankfully, they were deserted. Or, they were. Until a black, government luxury car pulled around a corner, heading towards me.
I took off running, sprinting down alley after alley, stopping only after I figured there was no way they could have followed me, especially not in a car. I slowed my pace to a jog before leaning against a brick wall in a dead end alley, relishing in the fact that I wasn't dead. Yet. Not that they were trying to kill me or anything… right? I shuddered, and started hacking. I've had asthma since I was little, and the panic and running were not helping. Sinking to my knees, I rubbed my hands over my face and shook my head, trying to open my lungs without my inhaler. Focusing on my breath, I did something I probably should've done a long time ago: I reflected on my life choices. This was just way too intense. There had to be a better way to make some cash. As boring and banal as it sounded, maybe working at McDonald's or Wendy's would be a better idea than selling. Safer, at least. And maybe they had health benefits. Maybe I could finally afford to get a replacement inhaler, after mine had been thrown out after one of Harry's drunken fits.
As I relished in the thought of comfortable, reliable breathing, a shadow consumed me. I looked up slowly, partly because I didn't want to admit that I was going to die and partly because I kind of thought that death would consume me naturally, breathing hadn't gotten any easier. I thought I would see a thug, or some cop or something, I dunno, but I wasn't expecting an older man carrying an umbrella to be looming over me.
"Don't make this harder for yourself, kid."
I stood up way too quickly, and had turned to run in spite of my current condition when I heard fingers snap. Four strong hands suddenly grabbed my arms and began dragging me back onto the main road, where the black luxury car was waiting, humming quietly on the otherwise deserted street.