The Golden Scar
The iron gates of the Correctional Facility for Moral Integrity did not open with a clank, but with a heavy, suffocating silence that seemed to swallow the morning light before it could reach the cobblestones. I walked through them not as a prisoner, though my hands were bound in leather thongs that bit into the skin, but as a man returning to a house he had known since birth, a house that had...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews