~Chapter 2 is up (well, obviously…), and I'd like to thank all of the people who have reviewed so far, I was planning on doing one chapter each week, but I've been inspired by you guys! I have no idea myself where this is going, b/c my original idea of a 2-chapter story has been scrapped with…something you'll have to find out about later. Oh, and as for the whole paragraph/spacing thing, I swear, that's how it was on my Word Doc., but things got a little mixed up. (That means, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, please send help when you review). Anyway….

*Dominic's point of view*

"Dominic Toretto," I figured that the easiest way to do this would be to answer this reporter's questions straight. I don't want her writing some sob story on how life is so here in Lompoc. It is bad, but it's a prison, men go here to get punished.

Here was a surprise. When they told me I had to get interviewed by some college kid, I'd thought that I'd get some over preppy, four-eyed loser who'd have jelly-knees after one look at me. Hey, I may not look like Russo, with creepy-ass tattoos covering my arm, and a huge scar across my face, but I wasn't exactly the gentleman type. In any case, they'd sent over some girl who looked barely 18, and had hair that did that flowy-thing that Mia did to her hair every time she had a date. Melanie was pretty cute, actually, she was pretty hot, but then again, I haven't seen a woman in two years. She sat down and continued her questions. They were simple, for the most part. What did I do before I ended up in here? What was my family like? Those kinds of questions that hint at, 'How did you end up being jail scum?'

"Dominic?"

"Wha? Oh… sorry, my mind kinda wanders- what was your question?" Melanie just smiled in an irritatingly friendly way and repeated herself. Damn her, she's supposed to be a preppy/ugly/snotty bitch that I'm never going to think about. The fact that she's pretty is unfair. I haven't seen a woman in two years, and they send this in to talk to me. Talk about teasing the tiger…

"I said, you're very well-mannered, it's hard to believe that you… I mean, why did you do it?"

No, she wasn't asking this. Pouring salt on the wound wasn't even close to what she had done. My father had been the one person in my life who approved of what I did, really cared about my future, you know? All of my teachers, and everyone else has always looked at me like I'm some kind of a vandal, or criminal (at least they're right when they think about me in that way, now). I've always been some useless little kid whose one goal was to end up shot dead in a drug dealing op, or something like that. My dad was always going on about how I'd get into college, and become someone great, though. And now the rock was gone. Papi had left me all alone to take care of Mama and Mia. Should I be upset or angry with him? Questions shot me when I woke up in the morning, but they'd never been answered. Now it had to come out.

"My Papi was a drag racer- the best damn one in all of California. It was the end of the season, the last race, and he was finishing his last lap when Linder came up from behind and hit him. My dad went crashing right into the wall, it was this whole mass of fire, and car bits, and God knows what else… my sister started crying, and I just stood there watching him scream. I couldn't do anything to save him- the doctors said he'd died on impact." I stopped to take a break, it still hurt to say those words, and tears were stinging my eyes, threatening to come out.

"About a week after, I went to my dad's garage, just to get some quiet and to think things out. My mom had almost stopped speaking, and Mia was a mess. Anyway, Linder walked in and saw me sitting there. He said he just needed to grab a tool and leave. Like he hadn't been at fault for killing my father. Like my father was nothing, just an old memory that didn't matter. And I saw red. I grabbed the wrench and I kept… hitting him and hitting him. I couldn't stop, he was yelling for me not to kill him, but it's like I was a puppet, and someone else was moving my arm up and down for me. Then I heard the cops coming, and the invisible puppeteer disappeared, and my arm went limp. I looked at what I'd done, and I just ran… I guess the rest is history." There, was she done now? How much of this would go into her article? I opened my mouth to ask her, but she was a little preoccupied, grabbing for a tissue. Was I that dramatic? One tear traced down her face, followed by another.

"Aw, come on, don't cry. You didn't know him…how can you be so sad? Don't cry…"

She just stared at me for a moment, regaining her control, and said, "That's awful… you had no control over yourself, and you did out of rage… you're so young –older than me, but still young- and you're here." She said the last word as she raised her hand and motioned towards the door, as well as what was outside it. She was right. My fate was sad…how did I end up here? The rest of the interview was easy, and finally, we were up to the last question.

"What are you going to do when you get out?"

"See my family." Mia had come here, once, to tell me that Mama had died from stress, but that didn't mean that my friends were gone too- they could be my family- no, they were my family. Mia…she was the youngest of our group, but she always took care of us. Cooking and cleaning, she did it all, and bless her for it, the guys and I are pigs. Hope Letty's helping her out at least a little bit. Letty- Leon's girlfriend, and he should be lucky to have her, she's the best thing, Le says that it's like having an extremely good friend with extreme *special* privileges. Then, there's Vince, my bro for life. He's crazy-he managed to get 20 people to go skinny-dipping, just because I was feeling sick over a bad grade, and he said that I'd "needed a laugh".

Leon and Jesse are the last additions, half-brothers, and the most loyal friends on the West Coast. That's my family, and I'd be nothing without them. If only I could go back to see them, and be with them.

"That sounds nice…" She said that in a sad way, like she'd just remembered her own demons. Melanie started to pack her stuff up, while saying, "So, that's it for me then. Thanks for the interview. Oh, before I forget, I'm changing your name in the article- I don't want to take chances with revealing your identity."

"Thanks." I replied.