..hey...where the hell are you going?” Mike snapped again, “I want my fucking phone call!”“Ehh, tell it to your lawyer.”“Wait, he's here?�...�“Yeah, just waitin for ya to wake up.” The jailer grumbled as he stopped at the door, “HE'S AWAKE!”Fifteen minutes later found Mike sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed to a metal table that was bolted to the floor; well it made sense being the dangerous criminal that he was after all. He sat fuming, still in nothing but a soggy pair of slacks, as a. In one swift motion, he pulled the Feliciana-lookalike'sbrunette head onto his and the flashback hit him as the slit behind hisneck vanished.*****He soon got a glimpse at the life of a young Hispanic boy whoexperienced hardship since the age of seven, when his father left himand his mother for another woman. His mother eventually suffered fromdepression and decided to take the easy way out. The little boy, whosename was Martin, had to be sent to the care of a foster home where heunderwent. More

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