The Dangers of Vaping.

This week's Prompt: “How to kill my Mother-in-Law and get away with it.

Hi, let me first introduce myself. 

My Name is Geralt. The only other person I have heard of with the same name is a character in The Witcher, I believe it is on the Netflix channel.

After leaving School at sixteen, I realised there was nothing for me in this village; you either worked on a farm or in one of the shops, and I wanted neither, so I joined the Army. On arriving for basic training, I was buddied up with another young lad from my village; I didn't know him; he lived in the big house on the hill, and went to the posh school a few miles away, I went to the local comp; anyway, there we were, thrown together, buddies, all through basic training I watched his back and he watched mine. 

His name was Rupert, and he had the nickname Bear long before Bear Grills was on TV. After basic training, he went up the Army ladder. I stayed as a private, and we stayed in the same squadron. Over the years, I saved his life a few times, and he saved mine. It was not that we were counting, but it was five to four for me. 

After our second tour in Iraq, Bear decided to retire on a Lieutenant

Colonel’s full pension. The reason was that while in Iraq, a sniper shot Rupert, and the bullet lodged in his pelvis. He could not walk and was in lots of pain, so I carried him for a mile and found a friendly local to drive us to our camp. I was given a medal for doing what I was trained for. The day he left, he said we would keep in touch. We didn't.

I stayed on for one more tour of Afghanistan, based in Kandahar. However, the younger kids they were sending over thought they were Rambo, so I decided to leave.

I walked out of the RAF barracks at Braze Norton one sunny day with a rucksack on my back and had release papers in my pocket. I could have gone anywhere: Devon for surfing, Norfolk, living on a barge, and The Islands of Scotland, where I would live in a mud hut. No, I went back to the monochrome village where I grew up.

When I arrived in the village, the first thing I did was go to the post office. It wasn’t the local post office; I remember it was now tucked in the back of a mini market.

Many years ago, I had set up a P.O. Box for all my correspondence. Passing over my ID to the Asian chap behind the counter, he gave me some mail and some fliers for Pizza and Curry shops. One envelope that stood out was beige with the name of a solicitor embossed on it. With nobody behind me, I opened it. It was from a solicitor asking if I could go and see him regarding the will of the late Lieutenant Colonel Rupert De Froy. I was in shock; I asked the chap behind the counter where the address on the letter was. “Three doors down,” he said, pointing left. I shook my head, standing outside the Solicitors. I thought this used to be a baker's; it took me back to my school days, we used to call here and get a pasty and a bap, those were the days.

The Solicitor said that after leaving the Army, Rupert set up a Private Detective business, mainly managing marital disputes and finding lost people. In his will, he left me No. 12 the High Street, the mortgage was paid up, all I had to pay were the day-to-day running costs, above the Detective Business were a self-contained flat, and enough money to live comfortably for many years. He also wrote a letter thanking me for saving his life many times. He wrote a lot more, but it has no bearing on this story.

Right, that's enough about me; let's start the story. 

                                                                 ----------

Chapter 1 The Question.

A few months later,

Each morning, I go to a family-run café a few streets from where I live and work. It is one of those places where everyone knows everybody's business. I don’t think it’s making a profit. The owners, Bev and Bobby, use it more as a social hub, somewhere to chat with people they wouldn't meet otherwise, to give the occasional homeless person a free meal. There were lots of posters on the walls advertising well-being and mindfulness.

Anyway, on Monday morning at 08.15, I entered the café, as usual, and five minutes later, Phoebe walked in, looking sad.

I ordered my bacon bap with brown sauce and a decaf coffee. I don’t think it is decaf because it comes from the same tin as regular coffee, but I don’t complain.

“Hey, what's up?” I asked,

“Oh, it's nothing”, Phoebe moved away from me.

“Come on, what is it?” I asked again.

“Well,” she turned to me,

Beth's mum is kicking off… AGAIN,” she emphasized the word again by pulling a face and dropping her shoulders. “She wants her out.”

“Can she come and stay with you?” I asked.

“Well… yes, but not in the long term.” Phoebe pulled a different face.

“I'm sure something will work out,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic. 

I looked up and studied the handwritten menu on the wall. Then I noticed a Breakfast Burger, a fried egg, a slice of bacon, an ash brown, a sausage patty, a slice of black pudding, a slice of cheese, all on a Bun. Just for two pounds ninety-nine. I giggled at the spelling mistakes and thought. How could someone want to work after eating all that?

“You know stuff…” Phoebe said quietly, standing closer to me.

“Well, yes, I know stuff. Which stuff are you referring to?”

“I know who you are, Sylvia. (Oh, I forgot to say that with the business, I inherited a lady. Her name is Sylvia. She answers the phone, keeps all the paperwork up to date and pays me my wages.) Sylvia is my mum's cousin,” Phoebe continued. “She told us you've been in the forces, done things, the posh chap Rupert he used to tell us stories about when you were in the Army.” 

I never told anyone what I did before the Detective Business. 

“I want to know how,” Phoebe hesitated. “How do I kill Beth's Mum and get away with it? I'll do it, I’m not asking you to do it; I need to know… If it can be done,” 

I was shocked at first. Did Phoebe think I looked like a Killer?”

I laughed it off and then joked about the many different ways to kill someone. We thought about rigging her mobility scooter, injecting air under one of her toenails, and then poisoning her.

Over that afternoon and night, I pondered Phoebe’s question. I could kill someone; I’d been trained by the best.

                                                  ----------

Chapter 2 - Information Gathering.

Firstly, I had to go to where she lived, observe her habits for a few days, and then decide whether to proceed. I couldn’t let Phoebe do it.

Day 1 Monday

I sat in my car a few houses down the road, opposite Beth's Mum's house. I was thinking, could I kill someone in cold blood? Could I live with myself afterwards? Do I have what it takes to take the life of someone who had not wronged me? Yes, I had killed previously, but that was when I was in the Armed Forces, for Queen and country and all that. I had fifteen years under my belt, with two tours of Iraq, and then, when I could have retired, I volunteered for one more tour of Kandahar, Afghanistan. But to stand in front of someone and watch as they take their last breath? I don’t know?”

The front door opened.

I made a note on my pad.

09.15

An elderly female came out of the address given to me. It is a match for the photograph I had of Beth's Mum. She unplugged the charger cable from her mobility scooter and got on. Pushing the key into the slot and turning it. Exiting the garden and heading south down Blossom Street, I took photographs. 

Travelling at about three miles an hour, I decided to go on foot. Pulling my collar up and my Baseball Cap down, I followed. It looked like I was following the Flying Scotsman, and a thought from my childhood came to me, my father and I would stand on a railway bridge not two miles from the village, I was about eight or nine, as the train roared under the bridge, the coal-smelling smoke hit us. The vibration from the heavy train shook the bridge; it was exciting and a memory I would never forget. My thoughts jumped from my childhood back to now. As the mobility scooter drove down the pavement, thick plumes of smoke trailed her as she sucked in on a vape, and a sweet smell of strawberry lingered in the air.

Further down the road, at the junction with School St, the scooter bounced down the curb, not stopping to see if any cars were coming. The front wheels hit the pavement on the other side with a thud. With a few more revs, the scooter bounced up the curb. Stopping at the Mini Market and parking her mobility scooter near the door, she took the key and stepped inside.

For the second time, I walked into a very spacious building. On my left was a counter, and a young girl stood behind it, filing her nails with a sandpaper board. Facing me was the post office I visited on my first day back to the Village. I looked at the birthday cards, keeping one eye on Beth's Mother. She was third in the queue. 

When her time came, I noticed she put a card into the card reader and pressed the keypad; the Asian man behind the counter counted out Fifty Pounds; she thanked him and then walked to the shop part of the Shop, asking the assistant for eight cans of large, a small bottle of Whisky and three vapes. The girl behind the counter asked if she wanted her usual, and she replied, “Yes.” No, please or thank you, just a straight YES. Passing over a twenty and a ten-pound note, receiving her change in cash, and collecting her goods, she left the Post Office. I paid for some chewing gum. The man didn't notice me, but again, I hadn't been in since I collected my mail, so why would he? I walked outside. Beth’s mum climbed on the scooter, started it up and drove down the street. Her bought items were in the wire basket attached to the front of the scooter.

09.45

Stopping outside a Public House and turning the key to the scooter OFF, Beth's Mum took out her mobile phone. I was standing outside a greengrocer's, eyeing various fruits and vegetables. I picked up a lime and sniffed it. I witnessed her search through her contacts. Finding the one she wanted, she pressed the call sign. After a short conversation, she pocketed the phone. Four minutes later, a young male dressed all in black came out of the public house and stopped in front of Beth's Mum. He took something from his ‘MAN BAG’ strapped across his chest, and she opened her purse and took some notes out. I did not see how much or what he passed over, and they made and exchanged it right there on the high street. 

She placed what she had just purchased in her Dry Robe pocket, started the scooter, turned it around, and headed home. Some twenty minutes later, she arrived home. After plugging in the charger cable, she opened the door to the property and went inside.

----------

My Initial thoughts,

Fifty Pounds out of her account.

Eight cans of lager. 

A Bottle of Whisky, Heroin or Cocaine and the Vapes.

The Public House opens at 09.45. I had to check that out. I had something to work on, and it made me smile.

That night I went back to the house. The weather was strangely calm, no clouds in the sky, and I could see lots of stars in the sky. When I was younger, I could tell you the names of all the constellations. On nights like this, we used to go and sit on top of the hill and look into the sky. Living in a small village, there was not so much light pollution. I looked at my watch; it was fifteen degrees, which was good for me as I only had a black long-sleeved top on. Walking up the alleyway at the back of the houses, I found the right house; it was easy, they had the number on the gate. Opening it quietly, I walked inside. Rubbish was all over the place, black bin bags strewn in all four corners. There was just enough room to walk to the back door.

The smell was overpowering. I held my hand over my face, squeezing my nostrils together, but it didn’t help. When I breathed in, I could taste the rotting food and whatever had been discarded here.

Reaching the window, I looked inside, it was worse than the yard. (Back in Afghanistan, on our rest days, we watched programs on television about hoarders, but this topped them all.) I could see boxes on top of boxes, next to them plastic milk bottles filled with a yellow liquid, which I could only guess was urine. Over on the other side, I saw shelves holding tins of soup, beans, tinned potatoes, tinned carrots and other vegetables, boxes of pasta, rice and cornflakes. She was a hoarder, alright. In one corner I could see piles of newspapers, the free Newspaper came once a week, she probably didn’t read it she just placed one on top of the other, looking at how high the piles was there must have been a few years worth, Something brushed past my leg, I looked down to see the end of a rats tail scurrying away.

Something moved inside and I heard muffled noises, I forgot about the rat and concentrated on what it could be, The lady I saw in the scooter was sat in a high backed chair, the sort you would find in a old peoples home, she was shouting and waving her arms, I could see her bashing what looked like a walking stick down on a table top, from what I could see this was the only space that wasn’t covered in junk.

A young girl came into the room. It must be Beth, I. It looked like the woman in the chair was pointing at something. I stretched up to see what it was she was pointing at. Beth bent down and picked up a bottle; it could have been whisky, but the windows were so dirty I couldn’t focus. Then something else caught my eye, bags and bags full of old vapes; there must have been hundreds, possibly thousands. Noises from behind me made me turn around; it was more rats. I was amazed how they were not bothered about my presence, it made me feel dirty, I needed a shower, walking my way home, I started to itch.

Tuesday.

I went to the café as usual. I didn't want to change my routine.

“Good morning, all,” I said. A few minutes later, Phoebe followed me in and stood behind me in the queue. I turned and smiled at her.  

Leaving the café and not wanting to deviate from my usual route, I walked two streets away and turned to see that no one was following me. I don’t know why I do this, but it is probably a force of habit. I opened the car door, got in, and headed for Blossom Street; I drove the same way, checking my mirrors more than usual.

Today, I went past the house, turned around and parked up the street on the same side as the house, looking down. I couldn’t get the images from last night out of my mind. At 09:15, Beth’s Mum came out, unplugged the charger cable, made herself comfortable and drove south. But today, as she passed through the gate, she looked up the street, not for long, but long enough to faze me.

I walked behind, she drove over the same junction again without looking, and we neared a bus stop. I hadn’t noticed yesterday, and the mobility scooter jolted over the root of a tree that crossed the pathway. One of her vapes bounced out of the wire basket attached to the front of the scooter. Beth’s mum didn’t notice it. An opportunity, I thought; as I walked on, I bent down, giving the impression I was tightening my lace and scooping up the vape. While at the bus stop, I quickly took off my jacket and turned it inside out. I knew that buying a reversible coat would come in handy.

Keeping the Mobility Scooter in sight, I followed her to the Post Office, where she drew Fifty Pounds. Paid for Eight cans of lager, a bottle of whisky, and three vapes, she walked out and jumped on (well, I don't think Beth’s Mum has ever jumped) the scooter driving further down the High Street, stopping outside The Cat and Dog, (the Public House) and then making the call, the same male came out, they did the deal, and Beth’s mum drove home. She did the same for five days, and I followed, using all the disguises in my wardrobe for five days.

Later that day, I had a call about the Cat and Dog; I reached out to someone I knew, A Police officer who didn’t mind earning a few quid on the side. It was a stash house for one of the lower drug gangs. He also said they are not affiliated with anyone else, he believes they get their drugs from Leeds and are trying to make a name for themselves, bit by bit, taking over another gang's territory. I could use this to my advantage and start a turf war, but I was getting ahead of myself. I still hadn’t decided what to do about Beth’s mum. 

I guessed Beth’s mum did the same over the weekend, but I had a paying Job, and it was money in the bank. I followed a man to a restaurant on the A653. he met a woman, Blonde, about thirty-five, and they sat at a table in a secluded corner, while waiting for their meal, they held hands above the table, and occasionally he leant over and kissed her. I took several photos. After the meal had finished and he had paid the bill, they both walked out of the restaurant. I followed as they walked towards a cottage across the car park. The Cottage had a sign saying Bed and Breakfast; I took photographs of them both entering. I didn't wait for them to come out; I could guess what they were doing. I could have stayed all night, but I charged by the hour, and I thought it wasn't fair to tell the wife Oh yes, your husband is cheating, and I've just doubled your bill. 

Monday Morning, one week later, I walked into the cafe. “Morning, all, I said to anyone who was listening. I had three responses; One was Bev. “Usual,” she asked, 

“No… I think I’ll have sausage and egg on a bap, brown sauce, and can you pop the egg?” 

From the kitchen came “No Prob-lem. Sausage, egg on a bap, brown sauce, and don’t forget to pop de egg. Coming up right up, Man,” Bobby read out in his Caribbean accent. I couldn't tell if Bobby had come from or even visited the Caribbean, but he had the accent down to a tee. His dreadlocks, colour and infectious personality were real.

I smiled. I kept looking back, waiting for Phoebe to come in, but she didn’t. It worried me, but I couldn’t let anyone in the café know we had a connection outside the café. The door swung open, and Phoebe came in.

“How are things?” she asked.

“I’ll send a report in an email as soon as I eat my breakfast.” 

“We still haven't discussed a price”, she said.

“Let's worry about that later,” I replied. “How's Beth?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“Terrible, her Mum accused her of drinking her Whisky and kicked off again, smashing her laptop. Beth's in bits; it had all her college work on it” 

I shook my head, trying to think of something to say. That's what she was bashing last night with the walking stick. I didn’t mention this to Phoebe. “I have an old one she can have, I'm sure she would have saved all her work to the cloud or a college website”? I didn't have an old one I would let her have mine; I was due for an upgrade anyway.

 “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for the offer. I’ll text her” Turning away from me, Phoebe took out her phone. I heard a series of pings as they texted back and forth. Putting her phone away, “Beth said Thanks, which would be helpful” She smiled and placed her order with Bobby. Humming a tune and bobbing from foot to foot. I could hear the music coming from her headphones; it was too loud. I got my order, said “BYE” to everyone and left.

I had decided to kill Beth’s Mum.

Chapter 3

How to kill?

I was sitting in my office, on a chair, at a desk left to me in my old friend's will. The only thing I could say I owned before was the cup I was drinking from.

Sylvia had gone for sandwiches. The clock struck twelve. I looked at it and knew Sylvia would be out for some time. I heard her on the phone arranging to meet someone to chat about someone or something. I quickly lost interest in the one-sided conversation.

Taking out the Vape that bounced from the basket of Beth's mum's Mobility Scooter, I twisted it in my fingers. Doing a web search on the product, I found that ‘Tiger Lily’ was a brand name. On a sticker wrapped around it, a picture of a Tiger spread across two sides, and the other two had the Ts & Cs, the distributor's address in Kent, and a warning about how using them can harm your health. 

This must be the brand she liked, as I had witnessed her buy fifteen over the last five days. I’m sure, though you are not supposed to assume, she purchased six over the two weekend days I did not follow her.

It was a sealed unit, a single-use canister, with a valve on top that the user would slide into the part with the mouthpiece. It had no charger and no battery. When the user inhales, it activates the element that evaporates the liquid, allowing the user to breathe in the vapours. 

I held it up to the light. It was three-quarters full, and the liquid swished from side to side as I tipped it from left to right. “How did they get the liquid in?” I did another internet search and found that the Tiger Lily was a single-use vape (which I already knew). I peeled back the sticker holding the Ts and Cs. I went to the shop's back office. For some reason, Rupert had set up a workshop that held drills, saws, sanders, and all sorts of screwdrivers, spanners and things I had no idea what to do with. I searched through the boxes until I found a drill bit small enough for the job, fastening the Vape in the vice and fixing the drill bit into the chuck, I powered it up, and with my left hand I held back the T's and C's sticker, I pulled down the lever on the side of the drill It lowered the drill bit as it reached the vape I slowed down. The drill bit started to cut away at the plastic. It didn’t take long to cut through the millimetre-thick case, and some vape liquid hissed out of the hole. I stopped. I then pushed the arm up, pulling the drill bit out of the vape case. More liquid seeped out. I took it out of the vice and thought about how to inject something into the case. I shook it vigorously, removing more of the liquid.

I needed to put something in the container to replace the strawberry-smelling liquid. Then it hit me: the old public house. That night, I dressed all in black, again. I had already figured out there were only two cameras in the village: one outside the Post Office/ Mini Market and the other at the estate agency at the other end of the high street. A few doorbell cameras were on the row of terraced houses, but I knew to stay away from them. 

Ten O'clock that evening, I was at the pub's back door. I noticed three extension leads from the empty building next door going over the boundary wall and through a window. I shook my head, leaning on the door. I gave it a little nudge, and it opened. The smell of weed was strong; I was hoping for something a bit stronger. Walking through the derelict building, there must have been thirty cannabis plants hanging from the roof, where the heat lamps were surrounded by tin foil to direct the heat down and several fans.

I walked up the stairs. Electric cables snaked through the banister. At the top, they split into different rooms. In the first room I looked in, I saw more plants, heat lamps and fans; these were older and probably ready for cultivating. In the next room, I saw boxes of vials, “Erm, I thought this was what I'm looking for”. I entered the room, and the young lad I had seen outside doing the deal with Beth's mum was asleep on an old sofa. I slowly walked by, but it was too late; he woke up.

“Hey”, I heard, and he jumped up quickly.

I spun around, doing a roundhouse kick. The outside of my foot caught him on the side of his head, and he dropped like a sack of spuds. I picked him up, laid him on the bed, tied his hands together with some Parra cord I found on the floor and then pulled a cover over him. I stayed silent for a few seconds to see if anyone else was in the building. Nothing. 

Backtracking to the boxes of vials, using my knife, I slit the seal and took out one. Fentanyl. “This is what I was looking for, and what's this?” I opened another box, “Ketamine,” I said.

Picking up two vials of Fentanyl and two of Ketamine, I walked into another room, all along one wall were worktops with boxes of small plastic bags, and boxes of hypodermic needles. I needed to get out of there, I thought. Thirty minutes later I was in the back room of my office, I made a coffee and was looking at the vials and two hypodermic needles I snatched up on my way out, emptying two Ketamine and two Fentanyl vials into a cup I stirred up the liquids, I then took one of the hypodermic needles removing the safety cap, dipped it in the liquid and pulled the plunger back half filling it. I felt my heartbeat rise a little. Reaching for the Tiger Lily Vape, I peeled back the sticker, exposing the hole I had drilled earlier. Carefully placing the needle in the hole, I pressed down the plunger, thus moving the mixture of Fentanyl and Ketamine into the Vape. When the Vape was full, I dabbed a spot of super glue over the hole and replaced the sticker.

I didn’t know for sure if this would kill her, but reading up on the

Internet about what Ketamine can do to you, and when added to the Fentanyl, the whisky and whatever prescription drugs she is taking, I would guess it will do the job.

Chapter 4 

Am I doing this

The next day, I was thirty minutes later than usual for the Café. I overslept. I don't know why I say I overslept; it didn't matter what time I got up.

I ordered my bacon bap with brown sauce and a decaf coffee. “Hi Bobby, have you seen Phoebe?” I asked.

“Yeah, man, she's in already,” he said, popping his head through the serving hatch, his dreadlocks tied up and tucked under his Rasta hat.  “She said some-ting about taking Beth to the Hos-pi-tal.” I texted Phoebe asking her to get back to me when she was free, and I hope Beth is alright. 

I had a walk around the village on nearing the Cat and Dog I could see two cars outside, these weren't local cars, a Range Rovers and an Audi, both top of the range, big, black with tinted windows, I could hear shouting coming from inside then the door swung open two men came charging out, followed by the young lad that sold Beth’s mum her drugs and the same lad I knocked out last night, “Look Man,” he said holding his hands out, “I'm sorry OK, nothing is missing, you looked around yourselves, nothing taken nothing damaged, it must have been kids, when they saw what they walked into and left.

One of the men, about six three, and carrying a lot of muscle, pointed his index finger at him, “This is the second time, Danny. Next time…, well, you don't wanna know”, he prodded him in the chest. These must be the owners of the weed farm. My phone buzzed, looking at it, it was a message from Phoebe, “Hi, Beth is ok, her mum tried to stab her last night, she didn’t need stitches, they just glued it together,  I’ll see you tomorrow, we're staying in Leeds for the day”   

I replied, 

“Ok, no probs, that project I was looking at will probably go ahead next week” 

A smiley face came back as a reply.

Two days later, I was in the Café when Phoebe walked in, “Morning all”, she shouted. She was happier than I had seen her over the last few days.

“Hi”, I greeted her with, “How was Leeds?”.

“It was good, we stayed over, found a place in the Gay Village only twenty-five for two nights, we nipped down to the market to get a few bits” 

“Beth OK,”  I asked.

“She's good, thanks. How's work”?  she asked, raising her eyebrows, 

I knew what she was asking. “Busy, I have to go out of town for a few days, maybe a week. If you're free, I could offer you a few days of work cleaning, if you want it, and if it works out, we could look at something permanent”?

“Wow, thanks, we could do with the money, so yeah, when do you want me to start”?

“Call round at lunch, Sylvia will be out, so just let yourself in”.

“Thanks, thanks a lot” Phoebe took out her phone and started texting.

I sat by the window waiting for my order. I thought about how we could meet up without causing suspicion, and I did need a cleaner.

At five past twelve, the chime on the door sounded, “I'm in the back”, I shouted.

Phoebe walked in and came to the workshop area “Hi”, she said.

I stood and asked, “Do you want a drink, tea, coffee, or water?”

“No, wow, I didn’t know you had all this hiding in here. I love messing about with tools. My Dad had a workshop he used to let me make things with scrap pieces” Phoebe started walking around the room touching the tools; she had a smile on her face Geralt hadn't seen before. She noticed the Tiger Lily Vape on the desk “Is that what I think it is”?

“Yes”, I replied

“So, what do I do”?

“Well, all you have to do is make sure this” I picked it up, took a cloth, dabbed some mentholated spirits on it, then wiped the vape clean and handed it to Phoebe “Gets in the right hands, if you know what I mean”.

Phoebe plucked a tissue from a box on the table and wrapped the vape in it. “I have loads of questions, but I don't know where to start”.

“Have you heard of plausible deniability?” 

“Nope, should I?” looking confused. “So, What's in…”

I stopped her from finishing, “Well, let’s just say the less you know, the better. Right, how about this cleaning job, in the workshop once a week, say four hours. The front office Monday, Wednesday and Friday again for four hours per day. We can see how it goes; if it needs more, we can change. Upstairs in my flat, you'd better see what you're letting yourself in to before committing to it, as I said, I am going away for a few days, possibly a week, so it will give you time to sort” I nodded to the vape in her hand. “Things out. As for pay, let’s start at minimum wage and then move up to what we think is right. Sylvia can sort out the tax and national insurance stuff; I have no Idea, any questions?”

“Can I use this lot in my time, not yours?” Another big grin appeared as she waved her hand over all the tools.

“Yes, sure, just be careful”

“Why are you being so nice to me? Nobody has ever helped me before”?

“Well, everyone needs a break at some point, I'm just passing it forward, Rupert helped me out, I saved his life, he saved mine and then by leaving me all this, so I'm helping you out, hoping, no, knowing that one day you will help someone else out someone less fortunate, it's called passing it forward”.

Phoebe walked closer to Geralt and hugged him. He wasn't used to such affection.

The next morning, with his bag packed, Geralt set off for Manchester to find a missing teenager; in his bag, he had a photo and an address of his last known sighting. Sylvia had booked him into the McDonald Hotel on Princess Street. 

That evening, Phoebe met Beth at the Bus stop. She passed her the Tiger Lily vape still in the tissue, “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

Beth rubbed the spot where her mother had stabbed her with a fork, “Yes, I'm sure”.

“Well, just drop this in with her other vapes and what will be, will be”. 

A week later.

In Manchester, Geralt found the missing teenager, who was living in a tent off Oxford Road, with some other homeless people. After a chat and a phone call from his mother, Geralt brought him home. As they reached the Summit on the M62, he tuned into Radio Leeds just as the News started, something got his attention.

“Today, the Police raided an old Public House in the Village of Holston, after a tip-off, and found a large number of drugs being stored there. The Police also believe it is connected to the death of a local woman who died of an overdose during the week. According to an unofficial source, the woman had been spotted regularly buying from the rundown Public House”

Geralt smiled.