I reached into my pockets for my ice picks. I had made them myself, just in case I ever fell through the ice. They were really nothing more than a cou...le of spikes in a wooden handle. One spike fit snugly into the handle of the other, and they both had a wrist strap. I quickly pulled the spikes apart and once again pushed off toward the surface.The water was numbing cold. I could feel it sapping my strength. As I surfaced once again, I dug the spikes into the icy edge. The ice broke and I went. I looked around from the cage with the baying hound to the window where a candle burned. This was just like where I grew up. The front door opened and a young man stepped out, shirtless and barefoot, the jeans barely clung to his bare hips, no underwear. His hair hadn’t been cut in years so it almost reached his shoulders in this shaggy half combed disorder. He laughed and held out his arms for a hug as he walked to Spike. They hugged, I heard flesh slap flesh for a moment before they stepped. More

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