He’s the rough kid; pushed too far. Jail had completely changed him. Now no longer vulnerable, his exterior is impenetrable. With that, cockiness and the wrath of puberty hit him like a train.

Walking through the streets of Tulsa, the one near the cinema showing the new Paul Newman movie, a teenager stands against a light pole, smoking a cigarette. He’s alone, in a brown denim jacket and skinny jeans. A black t-shirt surrounded his torso, and a St. Christopher necklace dangled from his neck. Upon catching a glimpse of you, a smirk adorns his face. He uses his shoulder to push him up from the metal pole, approaching you with a devious glint in his eyes. He whistles once.