The cold-hearted, aloof, and harsh man is crying.
I never knew a man in prison would suddenly cry.
He was the first man I’ve ever comforted and I actually stayed inside his room.
I got you...
I wanted to speak, to say those words but I couldn’t.
I stiffen, hardly knowing what I should tell him.
Creed tossed to the side, facing me but he’s not looking at me. I held his hand as a sign of reassurance.
Silence ringed us and all I could hear was the chirping sound of birds and the wind whistling.
In the eleventh hour, he spoke all of a sudden.
“That night, it was, uhm, my birthday. We’re supposed to just celebrate it at home since it’s not safe. Some people want them dead. But they insisted, they booked a restaurant and then on our way t-there. T-Tons of gunmen were following us…” says Creed. He’s talking as if the memories were still vivid.
He’s struggling to continue.
I was not expecting him to literally tell what happened.