‘All you have to do is tell them exactly what I told you.’
It was easy for him to say. I was a snitch, everyone knew I was a snitch, that’s why they were using me, but I liked to think I was an honest snitch. I didn’t tell the detective anything that wasn’t true. And I always made sure that those I snitched on deserved it. I never snitched on the little guy, the street dealer trying to pay their way through college or the hooker that’s trying to support her kids. I snitched on the big guys, the ones who took advantage of the little guys.
Now the big guy was taking advantage of me. Using me to set up his rival.
‘No big deal, just tell your cop that the dead pimp last night in the alley was killed by DeMarino’.
DeMarino, he ran the east side. I was being used to start a gang war. The Irish were making a move on the Italians. How many of the little guys would get caught in the crossfire?
I saw the detective leave the station. Instead of following him, I turned and walked the other way. I was signing my own death warrant, but better me than all the others. After all, I’m just a lowlife snitch. Ain’t no one going to miss me.
Written for #FOWC, hosted by Fandango Today’s prompt word was: Snitch. Click on the link to read more responses to the prompt.
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