Trapped in the flow

   For the first time ever, I was in the presence of snow. It was like in those movies where everything is covered in white and the characters make snowmen and throw balls of ice to each other, but it was pretty nice nevertheless. The snow just began to fall as we had stopped on a gas station and I walked out of the car just to feel it by myself. I was the only one there interested in the phenomenon but I didn’t care, the experience was even more unique like that. It felt so nice at first and so soft and simple. It was like magic was real but it was also very basic and not complicated like one would imagine. It was just this: snowflakes slowly falling to the ground and on my skin and hair. I felt alone and unique somehow but then I was reminded I was escaping and I had to go back to the car.

 Our journey went on exactly as it had been going on before the stop. Although the magic was ongoing because I could still see the snow falling on the other side of my window. But somehow, it felt very far away now and even more considering the circumstances. The driver was a woman I didn’t even knew the name of but she said she was doing all of this to save both our asses. I believed her because I had no other choice but the truth was I didn’t trust anyone anymore. Doing so had been my downfall and now I was in a car with a strange woman who never smiled, being chases by the police and other security agencies just because I never opened my mouth to say anything, I never fought back.

 I guess I have never been the kind to fight back, to be on the offensive side of things. I have always been more into letting things happen and just adapt to that. To be honest, I consider myself one of those persons that don’t need to go around the world doing things to prove who I am or what I’m worth. I don’t really need to test myself because I just now what I’m capable of. My life is one to be lived in peace, without breaking to much controversy in my path. Or that’s what I had always thought. Now, I really only want to be looking at the snowflakes and enjoy the beautiful spectacle that it is to see nature unfold itself in front of my very eyes. But soon, snow stops and rain ensues, ruining the landscape with its violence.

 I hate rain and now I have nothing to look for. I just realize I don’t want to be there, I don’t want to be running forever like a criminal because I’m not that. I’m just a stupid idiot that made a mistake and didn’t have the courage to talk when he had to. I bet she doesn’t know that I’m not an evil mastermind as many have thought, I’m just an average and maybe even below average guy who just wants to be left alone for the rest of his days. But I’m not stupid; I know that now that’s impossible. There’s no way everything’s going to stop just because I say the truth. My truth is simply not interesting enough for people to listen to me and I know they will just not care about it at all.

   It was all about lies and more lies and I now that I’m not completely innocent because, after knowing what had happened, I didn’t say or do anything. My so-called friends, those people I had learned to love and respect, they had set me up several times by making me keep their secrets, whether they came in the form of drugs or in the form of money. To be fair, they just gave me bags that were black and covered in duct tape so I never really knew what I was taking care of but those people were the only thing I had in life. I couldn’t doubt them, I just couldn’t begin to dare to betray the confidence they had put in me. So for years, many years, I kept those bags of whatever it was.

 I discovered once one of those bags had money and I asked my best friend what that was about. He told me he had earned a lot of money and would rather split it and keep it safe with friends that in a bank. To be honest, I didn’t believe him; I just decided that having friends and a certain sense of family was better for me that meddling in some business I had no idea about. After all, it was them who paid my rent, my clothes and food and who had given me the chance to be someone by working in a factory. They made plastic objects, of many natures, but I wasn’t to bad at it and I earned my living so they didn’t have to help me so much. I loved my life back then and wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

  My parents had died many years ago, leaving me an orphan. They didn’t have any money so I was about to turn into one of the many children that roam the streets at night, when I met them and they just accepted me into their bigger family. To be honest, I don’t remember my parents. I have no idea what kind of people they were or even how they looked like. I guess I could find out maybe now wasn’t the best moment to do so. It had never been one of my priorities in life to know who they were because I had always felt my family was the guys and girls and hung out with, those who gave me money to survive and live a life that was just good enough for me. Even now, I know I owe them a lot for what they did because they had no obligations with me.

 But I grew up and realized that what my family was doing was not really ok. Also because I saw the people that bought their product, on the streets, and thought that selling such a poison was not what a good person would do. I asked one of them once if they would change their work in the future. He said he wouldn’t because drugs not only have him money, they also gave him status and respect from other people. I told him about what I had seen and he just said that weak people shouldn’t be doing what’s meant to be for the strong and the mighty. So it was all a question of power that I couldn’t quite put to words.

 That wasn’t necessary. I discovered the hard way that this family had never really been mine or anyone else’s.  The day one of their bags filled with cocaine arrived at the police department, they instantly went for me. They sent a thug, a guy I had know and loved as brother, to punch the truth out of my body. I was beaten heavily, barely surviving the whole thing. Even now, my ribs hurt as if his enormous feet were pounding my thorax again. I bled a lot, covering the flour with the unmistakable odor of iron. I told him, when he let me, that it hadn’t been me. He just left me there, to clean myself and to take care of my wounds alone, because my family had officially left me for good.

More bags arrived to the police department, some filled with money and others with drugs. This time, I got a letter saying that someone was sorry it had to be blamed on me but that it was the only way to do it. So before I was killed, I surrendered myself to the police. It was stupid from me to do it, as I hadn’t done anything, but my mind couldn’t decide of anything less dangerous. The police didn’t believe me either, only thinking I was looking to save my ass from something they didn’t know about. They protected me for a while but I knew I wasn’t safe and I knew the police wouldn’t risk it all just to have me alive. So, once again, I escaped but this time with the woman that was driving the car after I had seen snow for the very first time.

 She didn’t talk at all and it was better that way. We just knew we had to run away and we did. I didn’t wanted to know why she had been arrested or she was guilty or not. Not even if she was a serial killer. I knew that the trip would end eventually and that I would have to fend for my own, which I was looking forward. I needed to prove myself that I could defend my own body and my own existence. So I just waited until the moment came and it did, faster than I thought. Because when we stopped again in a motel, and now more snow was falling, I went to get something to drink and eat and she stayed behind. She was arrested by a state security agency that was looking for her for a long time. I saw them take her and just leave, without even stopping to look for me. 

 I didn’t know what that was for but I thanked it. I left our car there and just realized I had no money. So what I did was simple: first of all, I ate what I had bought. There was no reason to go hungry now. After that, I waited patiently until the night arrived and then I went to a bar that was just a few steps away from the motel. It was greasy and old and depressing but it made me shine. So I took advantage of that and, eventually, I found what I was looking for. A mind that was weaker than mine, someone that would pay attention to me and to no one else. Someone that would want me and not the rest. For the first time, I was going to be my own person.

 The next day, I put on my clothes, went out the bedroom and bought a seat on a bus that would take me far away; so far it would turn me completely into another person. And I would like that.

Corruption

   When Nelly woke up that morning, she only wanted to train. She was running a marathon in only two weeks and she needed to be ready to face off against so many other women that were coming into the city to participate. She wanted to be the best and for her city and country to be recognized everywhere in the world. She had begun training only recently but had been a runner for all of her life. She had won several tournaments and contests around the world. She even had a bronze medal from the Olympic games, her proudest achievement. Now, she was a little bit older and she knew she couldn’t be as good as the younger ladies but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be outstanding. She was ready to show the world, one more time, what she was made of.

 But that morning, when she stepped into the field to practice, she overheard two people in the locker room. She was going to leave her things there and put on her running shoes but as soon as she heard people inside she stopped. She had no idea why because normally she would’ve just come in but she didn’t. Instead, she heard everything about a medicine, some sort of shot, which a very well known athlete was taking to stay fit for the marathon. The two people were discussing bringing the medicine from another country and how they would do that. Apparently, the substance was not legal. They also said that the athlete needed to prepare herself for an upcoming anti-doping test.

 Then, Nelly heard movement so she silently walked back to the entrance and just pretended to be arriving. The two men inside the locker room came out and Nelly almost yelled when she saw who they were: a man working for the federation of athletics and her own personal trainer. For a moment, she stopped walking because she felt so overwhelmed but then she kept moving and greeted both men. The one from the federation left shortly after and her trainer told her to hit the locker room to prepare. As she put on her shoes, she thought about how disappointed she felt. She knew her trainer coached other women but not that he used forbidden substances to make them win. She had to do something about it but didn’t know what.

 The training session went as usual. She warmed up first and then practiced by jogging around the stadium several times. Her trainer would correct her several times and would show her on a map the several road features along the way of the marathon. But the truth was that she couldn’t be totally focused on what he was saying or on what she was doing. What she had heard was too serious. After all, an athlete couldn’t know about anti-doping tests because the point was for them to be a surprise and check the real current state of an athlete. They were cheating, probably to make her stay clean until they had to test her and then they could give her whatever substance she was taking.

 When training was over, her coach was willing to take her home but Nelly told him that she was going to meet a friend nearby for lunch. This was true and she couldn’t be happier that it was. Her friend wasn’t part of the sports world but she was a very pragmatic and effective friend who worked for the ministry of culture. Her name was Grace and she was waiting in the restaurant when Nelly arrived. She excused herself but Grace told her she was actually early because of her work. Apparently, everything related to a ballet performance coming from Ukraine had gone great and her presence was not needed anymore. So Nelly sat down and told Grace everything, not even breathing properly to stop. She finished by saying she had never witnessed anything like that.

 Grace told her she had seen a documentary about something like that but that it happened in poor countries, where people needed to win because of the amount of money that moves around in those types of competitions but she wasn’t surprised that it happened there either. She then asked Nelly what she was going to do about it but Nelly just couldn’t answer that question. She was worried because anything that she said would be very bad for her trainer but she felt a responsibility to do something. After all, she had been running for at almost twenty years and she had always been clean. For her, it was awful what some people did to stay on top.

 Her friend told her that the best she could do was to investigate more about the two guys. If they were cheating it couldn’t be the first time so many other people may be in it and some would even be willing to tell the truth. Grace told her that she would investigate with people in the ministry of sports, who had been created some years ago, specifically to deal with all of these issues. She knew a couple of people there and they might be able to tell her more. Nelly thanked her and they then had a very nice lunch, discussing other topics that had nothing to do with sports or culture. They had been best friends since college and they understood each other perfectly, even to the point where they knew what the other would do or say in some contexts.

 Later that evening, Nelly began her investigation online. She found out about small scandals and wrote down some name that would be willing to tell more about what they had seen in the past. She knew that what she was doing was going to put a personal friend, her coach, in the line of fire. She had thought she knew him for all these years but now, she had no idea what to think. But she knew that other athletes, honest like her, didn’t have to put up with cheating of any kind. Training and been ready for any type of sportive event was tough enough and cheating just felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

 The next day, Nelly decided to visit a man called Frank Underwood. Several articles pointed at him after he had allegedly denounced corruption in the federation of athletics. Nelly went directly to his house because meeting in any other place would be too dangerous. The man did not know who she was but when she announced her intentions, he rapidly let her in. He was surprised to know she was an athlete and, for whatever reason, he knew who she was and told her she respected her work immensely.  Nelly told her she suspected her coach and at least one federation man of corruption and leading athletes to forbidden drugs. The man faintly smiled and told her he had had been thrown out of sports altogether of what he had seen inside of the athletics world.

 He told her that he found out how they imported a substance called “tetromizine” into the country. Apparently the procedure was even more difficult to achieve than if they wanted to import marihuana or even alcohol. They would just put it in home appliances like refrigerators and microwaves. Someone in the port would help them get their stash and then a single box would have enough for at least a hundred athletes or more if they knew how to use it. It was, to put it simply, a drug ring and everyone in the federation was involved, from a beginner in the athletic world to the president of the organization. Every point of the pyramid was rotten beyond repair.

 Before leaving, the man told Nelly to have proof before saying anything. He didn’t want her to live through the hell he had lived some years earlier. She took her advised and begun investigating harder, even to the point when she was really letting go of the training for the marathon. Her coach asked her several times what was going on and she always had an answer, namely something related with the female anatomy. But the truth was she was getting closer to what she saw as the truth. Her friend Grace gave her some statistics to work with and the number proved that the athletes had consumed something before some of the events as their blood results were all over the place.

 Then, one other morning of training, she heard them again but this time she came ready. She recorded the whole conversation and decided it was time to act. The marathon was only three days away but she needed to do this now. So Nelly went to the police and then to the federation and formally accused both her coach and the man from the federation, called Marcus Fröm of drug trafficking and influencing official sportive events. There a huge scandal, of course, and many people attacked Nelly because of what she had said. She never talked to her trainer again, mainly because he was sent to jail for ten years. The evidence had been to solid to refute.

 She participated in the marathon and finished fifth, which she considered to be a triumph. She celebrated with Grace and other friends who praised her for her decision to denounce what was wrong with sports. However, only a year after it all broke out, she decided to leave the world of sports. The pressure from all sides was too much to handle and she wanted to have a peaceful rest of her life. So she retired and started enjoying many other parts of her life she had never explored. She still ran though, because she felt it made her free.

Performers

   The moment was very surreal. She was a very big star, a very well known woman, and she was offering him something she shouldn’t. He knew that drugs were typical in this business but he never thought he would see them so soon. Mia offered him two pills: one was bigger and yellow and the other was white and smaller. She told him that both were great and made anyone feel great, more free and without guilt. She also offered him a bottle of wine to drink them with but he refused it, thinking it wasn’t the best idea to mix those pills with alcohols. He had seen some TV shows were people mixing drugs and other things ended up dead or insane. As Mia consumed her share, he stared at the pills thinking what should he do with them.

 He could tell Mia he was going to take them and just throw them to the ground. The place was dark anyway and with all the people moving around and dancing, they would get stepped on fast and the evidence would disappear. But that wasn’t realistic as Mia wanted to see as he consumed them. So he was against the wall, literally, in this opportunity. He asked her to wait because he was a little bit nervous and she just nodded. They then danced and talked to everyone that Mia knew and had fun just like that. He kept the pills in his shirt’s chest pocket. He could feel them there but only when he was thinking about Mia remembering him that he had to take them. He was expecting her to forget all about it and for the night to have a speedy end before anything could happen.

 The truth was that drugs made him very nervous. Even people smoking pot made him think about how strange it was to just smoke or drink or have something distort your view of reality because the one you have is too boring or too hard. Peter, who still had the pills on his chest pocket, had met a guy in college that often did drugs and then he gradually transformed into this idiotic beast that never new anything. Only the other junkies joined him between classes and he rarely even went to class, except for those no one ever missed. He was not an awful guy, it was actually easy to see he could have been a very handsome fellow but drugs had made him into this puppet with no real life in him.

 Mia then got closer to Peter. He was scared she would ask him to drink the pills again but she just started dancing in front of him. Then, they danced together and it was just as if she had been drinking a lot, only that she said things that she would have never said when drinking. She talked about colors and shapes and how she felt the music. She never said, not once, that she loved Peter or that she loved something, which would have been typical of a drunken person. It was weird to see her like that and Peter wondered how did she do it, with so much work around her. He also wondered why did she do it: Mia had everything anyone could want. It made everything stranger to Peter

 When the night ended, it was him that had to carry her to her car and then drive her home. Peter didn’t mind, as Mia had been so good to him for the last few months. He was just a beginner, having no experience in professional acting. And Mia just helped him get a better role and to be prepared for it. Mia was actually a very experienced and nuanced actress, knowing every single thing a professional performer should know. She was famous, having done many movies and having won several awards. She was not someone that had just arrived to the party; she was really a great professional. Nevertheless, she ran out of friends at the end of the night and it was Peter who took her home.

 He left her in bed and her car in the garage of her awesome apartment in a very exclusive area of town. Peter did not live close but he stayed for some minutes, looking at the city from the balcony. That view was magnificent and he wondered if he would ever get to have something like that. Then he heard Mia complaining. He ran to her and she asked him for water, which he brought with haste. She thanked him for being there but she asked him to go and sleep as the week was going to be very complicated for them. He agreed and left, taking a taxi to his home where he barely had any sleep. The following morning, it was Sunday so he met his parents in his sister’s house. There he played with his new nephew, which helped him relax and just enjoy life.

 His mother asked him if he was feeling ok because he looked like a zombie but he told her it was just that he had not been able to sleep. His sister then teased him that Mia was making him stay up until late, something he didn’t even gave an answer to. He didn’t want his family to think Mia was a problematic brat but he also didn’t want them to think it was him who was misbehaving in some manner.  The rest of that day, Peter just played with his nephew and the dog, throwing the Frisbee and also doing a small play with all his nephew’s toys were the dog was the savior and the princess in distress was Peter’s mother. They all laughed and applauded.

 Back home, Peter knew that acting was his thing. There was nothing else that made him feel alive and just good about himself. He had dealt with a lot of issues growing up and performing had been the answer to all of it. He had been the happiest guy in the world when he had landed his first role and meeting Mia had been a struck of luck that he still couldn’t believe. But now, after a while, he was wondering if she wasn’t more of a problem than anything else. What if she passed on her complicated life to him, what if that type of life was the one to have if Peter wanted to be known and successful? He didn’t know if he could handle the pressure. But at least that night, he slept a bit more.

  As Mia had predicted, the week was harsh on them. Shooting had begun and the director was a very demanding man. On the first day, he asked Mia to do the same scene at least fifteen times. Peter had seen how professional she was, as she just did what it was needed of her and never complained at all. She was very polite and tried to work with her director, never been too pushy. Besides, Mia was great. Her scenes were just something to look at, always so layered and real. She was the real deal and it was great that, during the brakes, she would ask Peter to come with her and just chat about anything. She gave him advice and also discusses what she hadn’t like about her scenes, although she never criticized the screenwriter or the director.

 Nevertheless, Mia did look tired. Beneath her make up, it was easy to see that she had large marks under her eyes and that her skin seemed a bit dry. But then she would come to the set and just blow everyone’s mind. When it was Peter’s turn to act, she was always there, cheering him on. He was obviously not as good as her but by the end of the week he was able to surprise himself with a very angry performance, in which he had to throw a glass full of whisky to a fireplace. The scene was dangerous for obvious reasons but it was the only one the director never asked to repeat. He said everything had been so well done, that he’s rather not spoil it all by shooting another scene.

Mia congratulated Peter and they had a glass of wine to celebrate. Work went on in various locations around town for several weeks. By the end of the third month, the director announced they had finished the movie. Everyone celebrated and Peter got to thank the director and ask him for his autograph. He also asked Mia for her and she did something even better: she asked an assistant to take a picture of them and she sent it framed with her autograph to Peter’s home. Sadly, she had to leave town to do a musical in some other town so it was sad to see her go but Peter knew that she would shine anywhere she went. They promised to keep contact and they hoped to do something more together, in the future.

 Finally able to have some rest, Peter got home and enjoyed himself remembering so many things he had learned and so many people he had met. He had been so fortunate and hoped for things to be even better as he got involved with more and more roles. When he was acting, he felt so alive and real, so representative of everyone but mainly of himself. He tried to make every character his, even if they didn’t really had anything in common. It was just the best thing to do. Months passed and he went with his family to se the movie. He hadn’t been able to go to the premiere, due to another job, but he decided to take his family to see it. As he put on some clothes, he put chose the same shirt he had wore to the club that night and realized the pills were there.

 He was again attracted to the whole idea behind them but decided to thrown them to the garbage bin as he had already found his drug and it was a far better one.

The city's rage

 - Stop harassing me. I know nothing.

That was what Emmy, a boy who sold his body for a living, told officer Amalia Jones. And she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Ever since they had finally found him, everything had turned even darker and more complicated. Having been on the case for almost two years, Amalia knew there was more than the obvious but always thought things would become clearer if they found the boy everyone spoke about. But it wasn't like that.

She had to take a weekend off, with her husband and daughter to clear up her mind and get away from all the darkness of the case but, even there, on the beach, the details hunted her.

Jonas Van Doren had been found dead two years ago, floating on a tub filled with with water tainted with his own blood. The apartment was huge, all done in black and white, with the best furniture and the ultimate sound and video equipments. Neighbors told the police many parties had been held there, as Jonas was the son of a renowned Texas banker. The kids went to school in New York but had only found parties and ultimately death there.

To Amalia, New York was also a death trap. Her grandmother and her second husband had arrived to the city after been freed from a plantation in Georgia and had it hard to cope with. New York was not a plantation, but it was filled with slaves. Her second husband died when shot by a burglar so she raised her children by herself. One of them had been shot down by the police when they mistook him for a robber.

Rich or poor, the city appeared to eat people up everyday and Amalia's family and Jonas had already been consumed. And she suspected Emmy had been too. The only difference was that he had evaded death, who knows how.

During the interview she made to the boy, he proved to be fearless and poignant. He would always answer with an act of defiance, as if he had to defend himself over and over again from every single person around him.

The young Van Doren had copious amounts of drugs in his apartment. If it had been the 1980's, he would have been a Wall Street guy: cocaine, pounds and pounds. Also acids and ecstasy. Amalia was assigned to the case when the police began tracing the drugs, the sellers, the real buyer. And there was the first time they heard of Emmy.

Of course, that wasn't his real name. Emmy stranded for "emerald", a reference that only made sense to the boy, whose real name no one knew, not in the underworld, nor in the "real" one. Everyone knew about it him, though. He was very popular at parties, specially those involving high rollers of the highest pedigree. Politicians, military, even policemen. They would pay for him and his services.

Amalia looked for his real data everywhere but it proved impossible. Every time they would set up a raid to catch him, he would already be somewhere else, probably laughing at the police. It was obvious someone powerful was helping him escape and there was maybe no way to find him if he kept leaping from hiding spot to hiding spot.

Then, after the first year of the murder passed, knew autopsy reports on Jonas revealed something the first person to check his body had missed: he had traces of cocaine all over his body, as if someone had sniffed the powder off of him. It was specially interesting when residue was found on between his butt cheeks and on his penis.

Amalia and the other officers then assumed, quite correctly as other tests proved them right, that Jonas had had sex with someone else just before dying. So they started to check every single man and woman that had ever come to a party hosted by Mr. Van Duren.

It was useless because everyone had had sex with him, or so it seemed. To the family, officer Jones recalled, was devastated to learn that their dear son was a promiscuous drug addict, also prone to gambling. It looked awful for them, his father specially, and they decided never to come back to New York.

And then the investigation stalled. As it was now, Amalia thought, as she saw her husband tucking in their child, She smiled at him, thanking life for giving her the joy of having a family she could be proud of. She kissed her husband hard and passionately, as she felt she needed the infuse herself with all the love she could muster.

They had sex that night, as they hadn't had it for several weeks. And at the end they kissed and hugged to get some sleep but, she didn't. She kept thinking about Emmy. Because it was him who had helped her. Well, not before she had the chance to help him.

When the case stalled, Amalia was asked to survey several parts of the city, tracing the drug dealers that had sold to Van Doren. But one of those night she found Emmy. And he was not a in ugly neighborhood but in front of the Waldorf Astoria. He was coming out of it as Amalia passed by on her patrol car, en route to work.

She recognized him immediately and could see he wasn't feeling well: he seemed to mumble, and couldn't walk straight. As she stopped the car in front of the hotel, Emmy fainted.

Hours later they were in the hospital. Amalia had spoken to the doctor: Emmy had been drugged with a powerful sedative. He had been raped after that. When officer Jones visited the boy in his room, he was awake and looked at her directly to the eyes, as if checking if it was safe to be near her.

 - Who are you?
 - A friend.
 - I don't have any friends.
 - You do now.

They did become friends or, kind of. He stayed at her house and he decided to trust her enough to tell her who had raped him and, more importantly to her, who had sold Jonas the drugs. Yes, he knew him. No surprise, they had had sex. But according to Emmy, they were in love too. It had been him, before they had fallen for each other, that had made the bridge between Jonas and the dealers, dangerous, vicious men.

Amalia captured some of them with help from the FBI but just then, Emmy vanished. That was until now, when he had been recaptured trying to board a flight to Europe. He wanted out but Amalia couldn't afford such a valuable source of information to vanish that simply.

So she had asked questions, harder ones, once and again. But he had only said:

 - I know nothing.

The drug dealers plead guilty or charges of drug dealing and admitted having sold merchandise to Jonas Van Doren. But they said, adamantly, they hadn't killed him. They were actually shocked to hear from his death, as he was one of their best buyers.

After her weekend rest, Amalia came back to the city and demanded to talk to Emmy but he had been freed and he was nowhere to be found. Again, he had vanished and this time, it appeared to be forever.

Amalia arrived to her home that night, sad no to have had a last chance to speak with such a tormented soul. But it was no need. Her husband handed her a letter she had received earlier, with the name Jonas Van Doren in the front.

Inside, there was the most heartbreaking love story she had ever read or heard about. And it's conclusion, was just incredible. As it happens, Jonas and Emmy did love each other but Emmy was too tied to the dealers and they had demanded him to keep pressuring Jonas for more deals and to get them more buyers. Emmy didn't wanted to as he saw the man Jonas was turning into. They had fight over the drug issue, over the fact that Jonas was loosing himself.

The dealers finally made Emmy decide: make them richer or they would kill Jonas. In the letter, he confessed Amalia it had been him who killed Jonas. As a final act of love, he had poisoned him with a painless substance and had laid him in the tub, were they had shared their first kiss after having too much to drink.

Emmy had known the dealers would never settle, so he decided to do the job himself, before them or the drugs. And before killing Jonas, he had promised him never to let him alone, ever.

Weeks later, Amalia heard of the body of a young man found on the Hudson, with his pockets full of stones.