He froze.
This was worse than the movies.
Way worse.
He didn’t know what to do.
He didn’t know what he did.
He stared down at the naked lifeless body that lay between the creased, blood stained mess, that was his bed. His gaze lingered over to the messy mass of long blonde hair that flowed over the edge of the bed.
He turned to the dirty wall of the trailer, banging his head frantically against it, trying to keep the voices out.
You could lose control again, Joe. Another innocent life could pay the price for your demons.
But he couldn’t have. He hadn’t used in about three months. There was no way—
And there it was.
Sprawled across the broken coffee table.
Two thin, untidy lines of white powder next to a couple of neatly folded dollar bills.
He grabbed the first item next to him and hurled it across the trailer, a loud bawl escaping his mouth.
He paced up and down, tears running down his cheeks. It was irrefutable.
He had killed.
Again.