Marks
an excerpt

“What the fuck am I doing here?”

It was fucking cold out. Winter in the Windy City, it can chill you to the bone. We piled into the Grand Cherokee, tinted windows, gaping hole in the dashboard where my radio used to be. It wouldn’t be long now, maybe a ten-minute drive.

I couldn’t believe it had come to this. There we were, 2 in the morning, in freezing weather, about to throw John into the Chicago River. As fucked up as it may seem to say, the crazy thing was, it the reasonable thing to do.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about a better time, and a better place, and maybe you’ll learn I’m that not really a bad guy after all.