Going undercover was one way to end the war on drugs. It was also a way to do what needed to be done without all the rules. What going undercover wasn’t supposed to do was bring her into my life. I wasn’t supposed to find the one at her lowest point, help her rise, only for her to bring me to my own knees.
That wasn’t supposed to happen at all.
Teenagers don’t always make the right decisions and I was a classic one, which landed me with one too many black eyes and eventually homeless. Almost a year later, eating from out of dumpsters and stealing from bodegas, I run into this guy twice. He helped me the first time and gives me money the second. Then he acts like I was disgusting to him, so it took everything in me not to throw the money back at him.
He was right — I needed it. But I never wanted to see him again. Not as a cop and not with eyes that said he wanted to do more than help.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening, either.