Getting down on one knee, Harold forgave the insults she'd given him earlier and gently said, "I don't know how. I don't even know what happened." The... holding the little boys hand, he gently asked, "What is your name?" The little boy was crying, and Harold felt sad for the girl inside. She may have been a snot nosed punk, but he didn't know if she deserved that. Though maybe, a part of him thought smugly, now maybe she'd be able to grow up right. He felt somewhat guilty over that thought,. "Blevins I wanted to give you a heads up. Just in case I started a turf war by accident." What the fuck have you done now," he whispered into the phone."Some punk with a Latino accent pulled a piece on me. I took it away from him, that's all." I replied."Are you sure?" he said."I might have broken his leg while I was doing it. I'm sure he is not going to be happy about it. I didn't kill him though." I said."You might wish you had one day," Blevins said. "What did you do with the piece." It's in. More

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