The Criminal Outrage

Chapter 22

That was that. It wasn't something where I was like "No!" and then I flew up into the skies to safety. Of course it wasn't like that. It would've just been better not to get slammed, obviously. Stupid Pick. What were you thinking? What would I serve? Years? I'd find a way out, right? What are you thinking Pick? You're not getting out by yourself. It would've been smart to stay away from that Red-Shirt. He's more of a hoodlum than me! I don't smoke weed and stumble around like an idiot! Maybe I'd rather be smoking weed and stumbling than dead, though. Shot in the face by a random person while drunk? Seems like an awful way to die. He probably didn't even realize it. That man, who was pretending to have an accent...oh boy, if I ever get outta here Im gonna crush him. Even if he does attack back.

"Mr. Galvan. We'd like to have a chat with you."

I stood, staring at the ground. I followed the shadowed figure into a room, and he shut and locked the door. 

"Please, sit."

I sat down. I had never obeyed someone this much in my whole Life. Not even Ricardo. Man, where was he? Dead, probably.

"So, Leo Galvan. You're here for- well, take a wild guess."

I didn't answer. His voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. It was all deep and scary-like.

"Ok. That's fine. I should understand how terrified you are. But, come on, you've probably been in here before, no? This is a cruel place to be, but reading what your file says, you're worse than the Jail!"

"What file?" I lifted my head and stared into his cold eyes.

"Ah...there we go, you CAN speak. Well right here, right on this paper. It says exactly that you are here for fighting, robbery, trying to escape a crime-scene as a suspect, and more. Tell me about the fighting."

"Why should I? I'm gonna stay here anyways, ain't I?"

"Oh. A hoodlum. I can tell...the word choice."

"Does that mean I'm bad? Because how I communicate? No, it's because I was raised that way."

"Oh! Raised, huh? By who? Parent names?"

"I don't know!" I slammed my hands on the table, staring into his eyes even more.

"Calm yourself down, kiddo. Ok, so I'm just gonna assume you were raised by birds, yes?"

"I was raised by Gang Members. Does that make it better?" It was weird to think that, but they were still family.

He adjusted his seat.

"Gang Members. Well it all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn't make sense it why you fled the crime scene. Tell me about that."

"I ran because this man who was shooting back at the Officers told me to do so. I'm very new to this area."

"You are? How did you try to escape like you knew the whole place then?"

"Cause I've been raised to know my surroundings. I was pushed out of a car by my father figure, taken in by this lunatic, walked around by myself, found a random car, drove off, had to stop here."

"Pushed out of a car, huh? Where did you come from, exactly?"

"I don't remember. Indiana, I think."

"Huh. I think I know who you are. Is your "father figure" Ri-"

"CARDO?!" I erupted from my seat, wanting to scream with enjoyment. 

"Looks like you know him. He's going to be fine...I don't know about the fat one, though. What's his name?"

"He ain't fat...Winchester ain't fat."

"Winchester? What? Who the ell' is Winchester, Leo?"

I couldn't remember his real name. I started to stutter. "I don't remember that, either."

He nodded, and flipped the table over, making me stumble backwards and trip. He practically flew across the room to grab my shirt. He did, and slammed me up against the wall.

"You probably do. Stay here...see you later," Is what he simply told me, in a casual tone. "Also," he continued before he shut the door, "You're never leaving here. I'll make sure of it."