he held you against the wall, hovering a switchblade above your neck

“Where’s my money.”

he whispered sharply, his breath cold against your face. When you didn’t respond, he grew angry and pressed the blade against your neck, but not hard enough to cut it.

“I’ll ask again. Where is my damn money?!”

Axel yelled, growing angrier by the second.

You recently bought drugs from him, knowing you hid the money at the house trying to take drugs from him for free saying you had money