My boy is nowhere. We're looking for him, we're all looking. Putain, even my informant and some of the drug dealers—anyone with an eye on the street who gives half a damn about me. That kid must be hiding out somewhere. Someone is hiding him. I don't know who it is who's trumping me, or if this is the person JP threw in my face the other day, but I'd like to find whoever it is and beat him senseless. I want my boy back.
Today, I lost my one diversion: my gang killing case. I had to hand it over to the antigang brigade because it involved a gang they've been tracking. It stung, losing my case to the very squad that gave me my start in the DRPJ. They ribbed me hard about it, too, made sure I felt like a traitor and second class citizen. One guy, a real cretin, insinuated that the reason I left the BRI was because I couldn't hack it. He doesn't know crap about why I left the BRI. Normally, I'd tell that guy to go screw himself, that the case was a joke anyway, but losing the only half decent case I've had in months was a real blow, especially because now I have nothing between me and the pain of missing JP.
That boy is becoming an obsession; I can feel it. I hate when I get like this—the worry, the dread. I have to pull it together and move on. Maybe JP will come back and maybe not. What more can I do? I just need get back to where I was before JP came to live with me, before we were a family. I was fine alone before; I'll be fine alone again.
