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! J
