Intimidate Trent

Trent Walker, a tall, lanky young man, guides me through the alleyway that runs parallel to York Apothecary, both of us keeping a safe distance from the street to maintain anonymity. He seems to be in a hurry, as if the urgency to unload his stash of Adderall is pressing on his conscience.

As we reach his car, an old, beat-up Honda, I confront Trent about the connection I had recently discovered. "Trent, about those Adderall pills... found in the dorm rooms of all six suicide victims. Care to explain?" Trent's eyes dart from side to side.

He seems to be looking for an escape or, at the very least, a means to delay the impending storm. "Uh, look, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't sell those pills to anyone. Swear on my life." As Trent's lie escapes his lips, his sense of urgency to escape heightens. In a quick, calculated move, he sprints towards the driver's side of his car and fumbles for his keys.

Unmoved by his weak denial and unwilling to let the matter end so easily, I give chase, my heart pounding in my chest. My legs propelled me forward, closing the distance between us with every stride. Trent finally manages to get his door open, but my hand is already wrapped around the handle. I'm not about to let him get away without giving me what I need.

I slam my body against the car door, my momentum causing Trent to stumble backward. "You're not getting away from this, Trent. Not without some answers." My voice, firm and unwavering, resonates in Trent's ear. I lock eyes with Trent, the intensity of my gaze matched only by my steely determination.

With a surge of anger, Trent throws a fist at me, aiming for my face. Such a gentleman. I duck just in time, and the momentum of his swing carries him forward, losing his balance. I quickly move in, wrapping my arms around his neck in a headlock. "You're going to tell me everything, and you're going to help me fix this."

The two of us tumble to the ground, grit and asphalt biting into my skin as I straddle Trent, and not in a fun way. I press further. "You're selling them, right? Adderall is a big deal on any campus. Why, though?" In that moment, as I sit atop the young **** dealer, it becomes clear that the tides have turned.

Trent sighs, seeming to weigh the options of his lies against the inevitable truth. "Fine, I sell it. But I only deal with a few people. I'm just trying to make some extra cash. You know how it is." Trent, lying there pinned under me, can feel the weight of his actions pressing down on him.

With my relentless pursuit, there is no escaping the reality of the situation. "But why would the suicide victims have your pills in their rooms?" I demanded. "Were they your customers?" I inquired, my tone laced with urgency and a hint of accusation. I tightened my grip.

Trent's shoulders slump, and his eyes meet my accusatory gaze. "Just two of them were, Emily and Grace. The others I've never seen, and thar wasn't my stuff. Just Emily and Grace, but I didn't sell them enough to kill themselves." His attempts to rationalize his actions or shift the blame are futile.

Skeptical, I lean in closer, my tone demanding more information. "How do you know those aren't your pills? How did they get in those dorm rooms? And who else are you selling to?" The secrets and lies that have been hidden beneath the surface of this small college campus are about to be exposed.

Trembling, Trent finally gives in to my relentless pressure. "Alright, alright. I sold them around a hundred pills each. They'd come back for more whenever they ran out. And I've got about a dozen regular customers, all of them college kids trying to keep up with the workload." He knew he had played a part in the tragic events that had unfolded.

As the revelation sinks in, I that that the truth about the Adderall and the suicides is far from simple. Trent's role in it all was undeniable, but the chances of Adderall causing suicide are minimal, and four of the girls had none in their system. I had thought maybe they were part of a ring, but Trent's too pathetic to run an operation of that magnitude.

As I continue to exert pressure to his neck, Trent finally concedes. "Alright, alright. I've told you everything. Just let me up." His voice trembles and his eyes search for a glimmer of mercy in my unwavering gaze. Satisfied that I have achieved my goal, I reluctantly release my grip on Trent and help him back to his car.