By
You’re standing outside the house of the man who helped murder your eight-year-old son. You have a gun in your pocket, one you’ve never fired before, one you’ve never had to. You’re nervous, and you threw up a few minutes ago.
Some of it is still on your sleeve. You’ve heard the body has a strange way of coping with things that don’t agree with it and, well, this is definitely one of ’em. Right now, you’re in Brian’s shoes, and he’s been waiting five long years to be where he is at this very moment. He’s dreamed, no, fantasized about it. Not in a sick way, at least he’d say so. It’s his purpose, the way a pencil eraser makes mistakes disappear. He wants to make it right, and even worse, as the night takes him from a dilapidated drug house to a shady motel outside of Toledo, Ohio, he already knows where everything will end…at the beginning.