The Prodigal

Arrogant.
Indifferent.
Uncompromising.
Remington Potter was a sarcastic jerk with a body of an avenging angel. He screamed good times and bad decisions.
But that’s not what made us friends.
His saving me that one night did—even if he denied it.
Remington Potter was my antihero.
I owed him at least a friendship and a plastic chair.
But I made one mistake.
I didn’t knock.
I didn’t look away.
All I saw was him on the floor.
Tormented.
Enraged.
And broken.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
I discovered Remington Potter wasn’t the mysterious savior I thought he was.
He was vengeful.