Steve Freeling's Boyfriend-Personal Narrative

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Steve Freeling had sat against the wall asleep when he heard Nathan. Steve looked around him and saw Eric with his fake smile and felt his flesh crawl, though it was easier to hide now.

"You lying fuck. You might have this saint act down with everyone else, but you 're not fooling me." he muttered under his breath completely inaudibly while getting up to put his SIG-Sauer P226 into its holster and grab his (stolen) Ithaca 37.

The former sheriff stood at six feet and three and a half inches and weighed 186 pounds. His blue eyes were tired, his short dark brown hair a mess; he had grown a mustache over. His clothing had seen better days as well, his jeans ripped at the left knee and his leather jacket soiled to the point that it looked black
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Even at five feet, nine and a quarter inches tall and 130 pounds, she had to admit to being just a little intimidated by her younger sister herself. Her clothes were in much better shape than everyone else 's. Of course, Carol Anne mused, the perfectionist would never let that happen.

"Sis, why do you keep threatening to kick my ass every morning?" The elder sister asked in a joking manner as she grabbed her Remington.

"Because it 's the only way to wake your ass up." The younger responded in a tone that was more than a little amused.

Christie Freeling walked down a desolate road. The former sheriff 's deputy looked for any signs of life, specifically her brother so that she could tell him what had happened. She didn 't see anyone. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Her blonde hair blue in the wind, her blue eyes red from many sleepless nights. She stood at five feet and ten inches and weighed 139 pounds. She wore a gray long-sleeved t-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of sneaker; her Colt Mk IV Series 70 was tucked into the small of her back.

"Where the hell are you, Steve?" she whispered, not realizing she was

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