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Disaster

Wilson's POV

I stumbled my way into my bedroom and almost gasped. My bed was torn to shreds; my pillows were in pieces.

My closet was practically empty. "Who steals shitty clothes?" I yelled into the destroyed room, kicking at one of the pillows strewn on the ground.

I couldn't believe it. I should've known those hobos were up to something. I shouldn't have let them stay as long as I had. I should've done something about them in the very beginning. This was what I got for my kindness?

Georgia appeared in my bedroom doorway, frowning deeply. "The police are on their way. You should take some pictures."

"I get it," I muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"I totally get homeless people wanting things," I ground out, "but did they have to steal from someone who barely has anything? I mean come on! Just ask for some hand-me-downs! Don't wreck my entire place! What the hell. What the hell?" I ran my hands through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

I was so dumb. I should've foreseen this.

"You sho
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