The feeling of suffocercation, that fear that pulses threw your veins, screaming at you to breath. To just open your mouth and breath. But you cannot. You find that the natural instinct to allow air to fill your desperate lungs has been cut off somehow. Panic that fills you, causing your fragile heart to flutter, scared that the few beats left are your last. The walls around you shake and shimmy, hazy with cloudy vision. Laying one the damp dark floor you open your lips and release the only thing that you have left. You scream.
My name is Jace Stark, and this is my story of how I ended up in one of the most deadly, feared, largest mafia's in the world, how I got to the top of it before my nineteenth birthday. How I became one of the most known criminals who could not be touched by law enforcements. this is my story of how I fell into the hands of drugs, murder, kidnapping, and all sins in between. This explains how drowned and empty I feel. How she became the beacon of life. How I ended up feeling a brush of warmth in my frozen existents. This is the story of Cold Heat.
