"You've grown a f***king lot." Rastar said. 

"Why the f*ck do you care?" I hissed. 

"I would've thought you'd be gentler." Rastar said.

"You thought wrong. Something that you've always done." 

I glare at him. How the f*ck could he come here? How the f*ck could he show his face to me? 

"85 years." I say. 

"Huh?" Rastar asked. 

"85 f*cking years. 85 years since you left me. I spent 3 F*CKING years in the slammer!" I yell. 

"You we're weak. Consider it a hard parenting." Rastar said. 

"Hard parenting? Hard parenting?! You left me to pick up your mess!" I yell.

I walk over to him. I was fuming. I have always hated him. Well, ever since I got into jail.

"It was your fault for not killing the guard." Rastar said. 

"My fault?! Are you sh*ting me?" I yell. 

I punch him in the face hard. I hit him again. He had more arms than me. He had six but I didn't give a damn. He left me. He f*cking left me. He spits out blood. He stood up.

"I taught you well." He said. 

"You didn't teach me anything!" I yell.

He punches me. He throws me against a wall. He grabs my neck. He starts punching me with five of his other hands. I cough up blood. My face was getting bruised. Voxy pushed him off of me. 

"Who's this?" Rastar asked.

"My boyfriend." I answer. 

Voxy blushes. 

"On to business." He said.

"Business? What f*cking business do you have with me?" I ask. 

"I hear you had a run-in with the AVL. I want to help you destroy them. I got the bombs." 

"For what? I know you want something." 

"Twelve percent of the money you make on your drugs. Which wasn't it my original recipe?" 

He was right. I found a piece of paper from our house that had the recipe. The one thing that my dad left me that I could use. 

"I wouldn't give you f*cking one percent. Get the f*ck out." I yell. 

"Alright, alright. I don't want to argue with you." Rastar said exiting.