"No! Get the fuck out of my house!" A finger, cut right off. Blood, on the knife, on his hand. "You're fucking crazy!"

"Those were mine, you bitch!" she advanced again. He rose his arms to defend himself, which resulted in more blood.

All while their two-year-old cried, a few meters away from them, on the carpet. Curled up like a pill bug. Crystal-clear serum. It wasn't him, the man didn't take it. His father taught him a thing or two about drugs. In through the nostril, for the quickest effect. It was very effective, it was his new candy. Only with his father, could never do it when mother was around, she's crazy. It was an easy way to get the child to quiet down. The perfect bedtime medicine.

"I'm gonna call the cops! STOP!" No he wasn't. He would be caught too then. What's more important? His life or freedom?