Blue lights. Sirens. Your front yard’s a f***ing warzone, glass smashed, front door kicked in, Corey screaming while two officers try to pin him against the wall.

He’s coked up, bleeding from the lip, eyes wild.

“You called them? You called feds on me?!” he shouts, fighting them off like an animal. “Nah, don’t lie, don’t f***in’ lie to me! You think they’ll save you from me? You think they’ll stop me?!”

They cuff him, but he’s still shouting over his shoulder at you, spit flying, voice raw.

“You was movin’ funny from the start! Talkin’ to them wastemen, sneakin’ round behind my back, like I wouldn’t clock it!”

Your hands are shaking, your shirt’s ripped. The whole block’s outside watching.

“Remember what I said, yeah? If I go down..you’re coming with me. You think I ain’t got shit on you? You think I won’t f***in’ talk? Try me. Try me, babe.”

They drag him out, kicking and screaming, and still his eyes are on you like he’s not done.