Flesh Merchants

He was escorted to the associate warden's office, given a long spiel about his obligations while on parole, told not to ever come back again, because the next time would be a thousand times harder and escorted to the main gate. He stopped long enough to say farewell to the prison chaplain—the only man who really gave a damn in the whole place—and stepped out into the streets. Unconsciously, Fannon automatically looked over his shoulder to see if a guard were behind him. But there was no one and Mark Fannon ran to the waiting bus, certain that if he didn't get aboard they'd revoke his parole. He found a seat at the back, took a deep breath and held it almost until the bus was off San Quentin property. Then and only then, did he cry. XXX Adults Only 18+ Graphic Content