I do not claim any of the characters featured in Death Sentence, I only own original characters and plot. And as cool as it would be to own a black leather wallet, mine's red.

This is chapter zero— it's not really a prologue, but whatever. Call it whatever you like.

Sorry this chapter's so short.

Reviews are love.

OH MY GOSH. You can't put a seperator in anymore with three little dashes! My heart is broken!

Topless Photo

Zero: Black Leather Wallet ))

It was just a picture.

Small, slightly rumpled. Two and a half by three and a half inches of color slipped inside Joe's black leather wallet.

It was nothing special.

A souvenir, maybe— a reminder of a good night. But the way Joe's eyes flashed when he saw Billy holding the wallet, looking at the picture, said something else.

"Who is this?"

"No one, Billy." Joe held out his hand. "Gimme mah wallet."

Billy stared at the picture for another few seconds before slipping it back in his brother's wallet. He tossed it over and Joe caught it deftly.

"Thanks."

He turned away. Billy took out a cigarette. "Who is she, Joey?"

"No one, Billy."

Joe walked out.

He drove to where he'd first met her, outside a police station.

Not the best place for him to be, but there weren't any crimes he'd committed in the past week that the police knew about. And something was good about the sidewalk there for him— maybe it was how even outside the police station, it still smelled like pot. Even outside the police station, small things happened.

People smoked, people talked, people met.

He'd met her.

He didn't want to call it love because love was big in a way Joe wasn't, big in a way Billy said he'd be once he became a man. Billy never used words like big, and he certainly never used words like love, but there was always something reassuring about imagining Billy meaning things he wasn't saying.

Because maybe Billy didn't know how to use the big words outright, either, and that made Joe feel better about never being able to answer her when she asked him if he'd ever be able to love anything besides himself.

But didn't someone say the little things mattered more?

And love was big.

Love was bigger than Joe, especially when Joe was smoking on the curb outside of a police station. At the moment, Joe felt small, and strangely enough, he was okay with that.

You didn't always have to be big, he decided. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

When Joe got back to his brother's apartment, he found Billy still sitting in the same chair in the living room, listening to an angry and doubtlessly outdated grunge band.

"Ever heard this before, Joe?"

Joe shrugged. "Sounds like Soundgarden."

"Ya right." Billy turned his head and squinted at his brother. "Who ya been with, Joe?"

"No one." Joe frowned. "Why?"

"Ya look like ya jus' got banged real well, man." He smirked. "Ya don't hafta lie ta me, bro."

"I'm not lyin', Billy." Joe scowled. "Trust me, I'd love ta get a piece of ass right now."

"Any specific piece of ass?" Billy snickered when Joe flushed slightly. "Hey, I don' blame ya, Joey, she's a hot chick. I wouldn't mind a piece a her."

"Ah bet."

Billy laughed outright and pulled out a cigarette. "Want one?"

"No thanks."

"Gotcher own?"

Joe tossed his head. "Gonna go see Bodie."

"Not the skirt?"

"She's not a skirt, Billy. She's a fuckin' person."

"That's what they all say."