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Underneath these gang tattoos beats a heart three times a year. I'm a slow puncture death, a murderer, a rapist, and a number. I killed my best friend. Death doesn't stalk me, it walks ahead of me by twenty-eight paces. I went home after I sold my soul to the devils. I thought life would begin, I was a free man, instead within days the bullets fly and my last hope dies with the slain. There is nothing left to live for in this world. I belong to the 28s, I'll always belong to the 28s. The woman across the road judges me, she hates me, and takes every opportunity to let me know it. Yet,...