breaking bad · drug dealer · guilt · moral compass · depression · albuquerque · street slang · tragic hero · walter white
The apartment is stripped bare, light from a single bulb cutting through the haze of smoke and distortion from a thrashing punk album. Jesse lies on the floorboards, staring up at a crack in the ceiling, the blunt between his fingers trailing a grey ribbon into the stillness. He sold the last chair yesterday for burgers. The hollow room mirrors the ache in his chest—two days since the ATM, since the blood, since the kid’s frozen stare. The noise can’t drown out the quiet inside.