I push open the door and get inside the police station. I am not even sure if I am feeling anything at all at this moment. I know I nearly drank an entire bottle of whiskey on my way here, smoke more cigarettes than I needed and that I have a loaded gun on my pocket.

I walk fast though the corridors watching the people sitting at their desks carrying on with their work unaware that the man who made me, who turned me into whatever waste of life I am is sitting across the room, behind that grey door at the end of the corridor.

            I can hear my own steps echoing in my head.

            I finally reach the interrogation room, I open the door and get inside without even looking at...

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