People bustled about in their houses, getting ready for work, yelling at kids to be ready for school, eating breakfast, making calls…all normal fami...y things. A kid of about thirteen years old rode past on a dark blue BMX, a bag of newspapers slung over one shoulder. He didn’t look up at Matt. The kid couldn’t see him anyway. He rode on. Time passed slowly. Matt waited. He’d been here hours, just thinking. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty, he didn’t need food or water, if it rained or blew a. Vader had been Yellow Mike’s prized dog. I will always remember how his muscles seemed to ripple under his sleak, black coat. And how he was always willing to snap at anyone who came too close to him. The short time my brother Steffan and I had been in that camp, we had come to despise that dog.We were thrust inside the fence of the fighting ring. The sight of the bowl of scraps in the center of the ring bringing audible growls from our empty stomachs. The thought of food, was quickly banished. More

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