Holden was drunk. When wasn't he?
There were sirens in the background, somewhere close, but he wasn't listening. Pale blue eyes rested on the graffiti mural taking up the backside of the bar, trailing from the top where various tags were assorted in cryptic disarray, all the way to the bottom where the Rastafarian image was blocked by the guy Holden had clocked in the jaw. Ignoring the twitch of the body against his boot, he relieved himself with his free hand braced against the wall, failing to keep fluids from splashing over his fallen foe.
More sirens. Holden turned groggily, his eyelids heavy and his mouth slack, questing where the flashing lights had come from. Voices echoed from the mouth of the alleyway, authoritative. Demanding. Something about raising his hands over his head. "Lemme put my dick away..." He mumbled, but they couldn't hear him, sagging slightly into the brickwork, fingertips splayed against the wall busy picking at paint chips. whether he was ready to be tackled or not hadn't mattered; the deed was done.
The last thing he remembered was the smell of piss and decay paired with a sharp pain in his shoulder from the impact.
Whatever police station they had carted Holden off to was a newer one, all white walls and digital print taking. Still half conscious from his earlier scuffle, he allowed the cops to do what was needed without much hassle. He asked twice for a cigarette, but both times, he was met with the silent treatment. The only comment he received outside of standard booking procedures was, "He took a piss on the guy." Maybe he had? He'd had a fifth of Jack over the course of two hours, so had the police said he had robbed a bank, he could be convinced.
Holden didn't honestly remember.
They slapped him with assault and battery, but the charges were a misdemeanor at best. The other guy had swung first. It wasn't Holden's fault he had laid him on his ass faster than he could talk more shit. If anything, that was karma. Poetic justice. The sort of luck a guy like Holden usually had when it came down to the nitty-gritty aspects of life. Unfortunately, the cops knew he had to make a call, and perhaps their sense of victory came in the blanching of Holden's features at the mention of phoning a relative. Sure, there were friends who owed him a favor or two, but he wasn't about to bring a ring of thugs stomping through the precinct on his behalf.
His hands shook when he took the phone from the desk clerk. It didn't surprise him when it went to voicemail, though his throat tightened as he left the message.
"Kent, I'm gonna need you to come get me from the sheriff's department." He rattled off the details slowly, half tempted to leave out less savory portions, though he shared those too by the end of the message. "...I fucked up."
When he was done, he was escorted to a cell, still teetering drunk. All he had to do now was wait.
There were sirens in the background, somewhere close, but he wasn't listening. Pale blue eyes rested on the graffiti mural taking up the backside of the bar, trailing from the top where various tags were assorted in cryptic disarray, all the way to the bottom where the Rastafarian image was blocked by the guy Holden had clocked in the jaw. Ignoring the twitch of the body against his boot, he relieved himself with his free hand braced against the wall, failing to keep fluids from splashing over his fallen foe.
More sirens. Holden turned groggily, his eyelids heavy and his mouth slack, questing where the flashing lights had come from. Voices echoed from the mouth of the alleyway, authoritative. Demanding. Something about raising his hands over his head. "Lemme put my dick away..." He mumbled, but they couldn't hear him, sagging slightly into the brickwork, fingertips splayed against the wall busy picking at paint chips. whether he was ready to be tackled or not hadn't mattered; the deed was done.
The last thing he remembered was the smell of piss and decay paired with a sharp pain in his shoulder from the impact.
Whatever police station they had carted Holden off to was a newer one, all white walls and digital print taking. Still half conscious from his earlier scuffle, he allowed the cops to do what was needed without much hassle. He asked twice for a cigarette, but both times, he was met with the silent treatment. The only comment he received outside of standard booking procedures was, "He took a piss on the guy." Maybe he had? He'd had a fifth of Jack over the course of two hours, so had the police said he had robbed a bank, he could be convinced.
Holden didn't honestly remember.
They slapped him with assault and battery, but the charges were a misdemeanor at best. The other guy had swung first. It wasn't Holden's fault he had laid him on his ass faster than he could talk more shit. If anything, that was karma. Poetic justice. The sort of luck a guy like Holden usually had when it came down to the nitty-gritty aspects of life. Unfortunately, the cops knew he had to make a call, and perhaps their sense of victory came in the blanching of Holden's features at the mention of phoning a relative. Sure, there were friends who owed him a favor or two, but he wasn't about to bring a ring of thugs stomping through the precinct on his behalf.
His hands shook when he took the phone from the desk clerk. It didn't surprise him when it went to voicemail, though his throat tightened as he left the message.
"Kent, I'm gonna need you to come get me from the sheriff's department." He rattled off the details slowly, half tempted to leave out less savory portions, though he shared those too by the end of the message. "...I fucked up."
When he was done, he was escorted to a cell, still teetering drunk. All he had to do now was wait.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-23-2016, 11:24 AM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-23-2016, 01:05 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 09-25-2016, 05:34 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 09-26-2016, 07:54 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 09-28-2016, 09:17 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by Kat - 10-15-2016, 09:43 PM
RE: Bad Apple [private] - by saronym - 10-22-2016, 01:13 PM