Snitch

On the streets of Omaha, Nebraska, it's every man for himself. Cliché? Perhaps. But it's the absolute truth. I know the right people, I run with the right groups, I sell the right drugs. I make the best LSD in town. And, when shit goes down, I leave the evidence far behind. Have I been caught? Sure. And let me tell you something about cops: if you offer to 'help' them, you can plead down a lot of charges.

My help has limits: there are things I won't tell. People I won't talk about. But one person I will talk about is Aaron Brells. We used to be lovers. He treated me like a king. He showed me the way of the streets, taught me what I know. Then he dumped me for someone 'better'.

I lean back in an old metal chair with a poor excuse for a cushion. Sweat drips down my back, my hands shake. I need something, anything, to keep the withdrawals from killing me. But Lt. Michealson won't let me have drugs in jail. If I help him, I can plea down, go to rehab again instead of prison he says. I've been to prison. I don't want to go back.

"All right, Jimmy. Where is he? Where does he hide?"

"He has three hideouts. And he moves between them every few days. Last I knew he still had his safe house at 1501 X Street in South O."

Michealson's round body drops into the chair across from me which creaks in protest. His ruddy face lightens, his lips curling into a sinister smile. One beefy hand clasps my right hand, shaking it vigorously.

"We've caught him there before. What are his other addresses?"

He slides a piece of paper my way. I pick up a pen in a trembling hand and force myself to focus. I lick my lips, my head light on my shoulders.

"There's one at 608 South 13th Street. And there's one at 1709 Howell St. Those are the only three I know of." For once, I'm telling him the truth.

Michealson nods, taking the paper. "I'll talk to your lawyer. But with luck, you'll be at Creighton Rehab by Monday."

He leaves, the metal door slamming behind him. A guard walks me to my cell and I collapse on the bed. A rebellion builds in my stomach and before the guard leaves, it wins, all over the floor. I lay down on the bed, breath heaving. Had I really outed my once best friend? If Michealson raids the houses before my deal goes through, I'll arrive at rehab safely. If he waits, well, Aaron will know. He knows everything. And he will know when I leave jail, where I’m going, and exactly when to strike.

And he, too, will leave the evidence far behind.

Notes

So...that's the end =). These were all written based on a prompt from a flash fiction "contest" I participate in on Thursdays called Thursday Threads. You can check out more information on that under the Twitter hashtag #ThursThreads. There is also a Friday flash fiction "contest" called Flash Mob Writes. I've developing another short series of works from that. At some point, I will pop those up here as well, but the pieces need some editing and I don't have enough of them just yet to post.

So, give me some thoughts, please: love it? hate it? want more? Con crit me. Rip into the pieces, show me the errors, the comma splices, what have you. These have been edited very heavily, but it's easy to miss things.

Thanks for coming on this journey =). It's been cool to watch the reader count go up and to see people subscribing and voting. If I add to this, I promise to polish them up and bring them right here for you to read and enjoy!