AVALON
My feet clinks, dancing dangerously against the tiles. People can't keep their eyes off me, poking their heads out of corners with faint gasps at the shocking reappearance. I'm guessing, they expected me to be dead. The stadium talk has gone down, courtesy of the Cisneros cleaners.
I'm impressed. They managed to sweep it under the rug. Like trying to take out Ace. I'm assuming those were also my father's orders.
Or maybe they're staring at me because I am just me. I always thought people hated me because of my last name, and they partly did. Who wouldn't hate someone who reminded them of Marcel?
I'd hate me too.
The other reason they hated me was probably due to my father. This was all a part of his game. Maybe even this is even a different level of the game. Leading up to
