You go to the space where Kyle and Cassie sleep and set to work rummaging through his stuff. You pore through her art supplies and sketches, mostly devoted to likenesses of Agent Foley. You ransack the duffel bag he's been living out of. Finally, tucked away in a side pocket and wrapped in a sock, you find his stash.

In a moment of bad timing, perhaps the worst possible, your best friend chooses precisely that moment to make his entrance. "What the fuck?" He asks. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um, I..." You begin lamely.

"You what?" He snatches the bottle from your hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?!"

"I've just been feeling really jittery, so I-"

"You went through my stuff? For what, so you could take my pills?"

"Well, yeah, I just figured..."

"For fuck's sake, Peter! I have just enough of these things to get by." He rattles the bottle for emphasis. "You think I take these things because I want to? For fun?"

"Well, no," you reply. "I know that-"

"I am in AGONY every day without these fucking pills. It's worse when it rains, or even when the air pressure shifts, but it's always bad. Do you know what I went through?" You nod hesitantly, and he lifts his mangled hand to wave it in your face. "THIS! This is what happened to me to save YOUR ass. And for what? So you could steal from me? You don't pay me a whole lot, dude, and I gotta say those things are NOT cheap."

"Look, Kyle," you say, preparing to launch into an apology.

"No, fuck you. I'm not going to look. I've been having my doubts about you for a while, and this fucking seals it. I'm turning myself in."

"Kyle, don't!" You yell, but he's already stormed out and it seems senseless to follow him. It would seem that your friendship with Kyle Turner, and likely your time as a free man, are at

The End

Try again?