Beast
J.S. Wilder
If he forced me to crawl in the garbage to get him, I was going to be pissed.
My gaze locked on the sliver of light as the guy emerged from the back of the dumpster onto a small patch of dirt. What a fucking idiot. He was no more than five foot eight, not even coming to my shoulders. I flicked my wrist, causing the silver ring on my middle finger to glint in the low light.
“Please,” he begged while putting his hands in the air. “Just take it.” He held out his trembling hands to me, weeping rivers of tears. “I just needed something to eat.”
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