The room was once again engulfed with an uneasy silence. Tobias was busy analyzing Keller's comment. Tobias was no sure of what to make of the comment. His first instinct was that Keller was trying to insult him, but from their conversation, Tobias noticed that Chris used humor to "brake the ice" per say. "It is not my fault that I am in here. Actually yes it is my fault, because I was the one who was driving the car when it hit Kathy. But what I meant was my skills, as a lawyer, would not have helped me at the trial. I was a business not a criminal lawyer."

"Ok. What ever you say."

"I'm telling the truth. I am tired of talking about me; I want you to clarify something for me. A while ago you made the statement that guilt is something that develops in your childhood and you have never felt it before. Right?"

"Yeah that's correct?"

"So what happened? Most people in their life have felt guilty about something. What happened in your life to make you different."

"I don't feel like talking about it Tobias. It is to personal."

"To personal my ass. Aside from Sisters Pete, I have told you more personal information about myself then anyone else in OZ. I think it is your turn to spill the beans."

"Spill the beans? Spill the Beans! Wow I didn't know people actually talked like that."

"Stop trying to change the subject. Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Fine, I will tell you, but you have to not interrupt me while I'm talking. I don't like to talk about it but when I get started I can't be stopped. If I stop there is no way I will continue. It just hurts to much."

There was a brief moment of silence in the room. Keller was busy trying to concoct a story that would be believable to Beecher but at the same time would make Tobias fell sorry for him. Tobias on the other hand was a little embarrassed. He had thought that Keller was bluffing when he called him on the family statement. But now he was not so sure. Chris had used the same tone after Tobias had made his initial confession earlier tonight.

Keller who felt that he had came up with the perfect life story broke the silence. At first Keller's little story went according to plan. "Growing up I used to watch the Brady Bunch (a complete lie, Keller hated the Brady Bunch when he was growing up) and I wished my family was like that." Up until that point everything coming out of Keller's mouth had been part of his story, but for some reason Keller started to tell the truth about his life. "My life was nothing like that show. First off I was an only child and I had no father. I had no friends when I was growing up. I was picked on by most of the kids in my class. A day didn't go by were I wasn't tripped on the playground or when someone would embarrass me in front of as many people as possible. I spent most of my time alone. I would normally read; so that wouldn't help me out. I got good grades because of it but it just made it even worse. Not only was I socially awkward, but also I was a nerd. It just added fuel to the fire. I don't know why the picked on me so much, but they sure loved to make my life a living hell. I tired to ignore them when I was at school, but when I was at home I couldn't keep it in any more. I would cry for hours on end, and how that annoyed my mother. She never asked me why I was crying, she would just say things like, 'you are pansy' or 'why was I burdened with such a pathetic child", which needless to say made me feel worse. But that was a typical response from my pathetic excuse for a mother. I was more of a burden then a child to my mother. My mother was never quite sure who my father was. She was quite fond of the one-night stands. It was after one of her encounters that I was conceived and her being the 'good' Catholic that she was would not have an abortion. Nine months later I was born to a mother who never wanted a child. When I wasn't being beaten for something I spent most of my childhood alone. My mother was constantly with her "friends", and by friends I mean clients. I was supposed to stay in my room and keep quiet. One day I got thirsty and went to get a drink of water; I thought that my mother and already finished up and it was safe to go out, I was wrong. I had come out just before she had finished and I scared off her client and she was pissed. She grabbed the closest object to her, in this case it was a metal paperweight shaped like a boat, and just started hitting me with it. After about the ninth or tenth time she hit me in the head I lose consciousness. I don't know how long I was out for or for how long she kept beating me. It had to be a few hours because when I woke it was dark out and my ribs were killing me. My mother was nowhere to be found, which was quite normal for her. I was used to her beating the crap out of me and then disappearing. She had most likely gone to get her next fix. Heroin was her drug of choice. That is the reason she whored herself and that was the reason she beat me. Whenever she got low on smack she would be very irritable; and that is when she would go off on me. It isn't like she was ever a nice person to be around to begin with, but the smack just made her so much worse. She would smack me around when she was sober, but it was far worse when she was hopped up on drugs. It was like after hitting me a few times her common sense came back and she would stop, but it was different when she was stoned. It was as if the tiny human side she had was silenced and she would hit me until she got tired. When she got home her eyes were glazed over, and I could tell she had found a dealer. She just walked in and went straight to bed. She didn't say 'Hello' or look at me. Which for some reason was a shock to me. She had never cared before, but she wouldn't ignore me. I thought maybe, just maybe, she would feel a little guilt over what she had done. I mean it was the worse she had ever beat me before. But my hope was falsely placed. She was the same frigid bitch that I had come to despise. It took me a few hours to get up my ribs hurt so much. I finally got up and went to my room. I don't know how I would have made it through it if my mother weren't a junkie. I found some of her pain pills, and I was never as happy to have her as my mother than at that time. I think I spent three days in my room before I mustered up enough strength and courage to see what my mother had done to me. I don't know how long I stood in the pitch-black darkness in my bathroom with my finger on the light switch, but it felt like an eternity, before I was able to turn on the light. I guess I was scared of what I would see staring back at me. I never liked the person I saw in the mirror, and the constant emotional abuse from my mother and schoolmates didn't help out my self-perception any. I couldn't believe how horrible I looked. I had always felt that I had been horribly unattractive but now I was not only unattractive but I was disgusting. My face was that horrible shade of brown because of all the dried blood on it, the right side of my face was swollen to twice its size, and I had horrible bruising all the left side of my body. I don't know why, but while I was looking at the mirror I became enraged. The longer I stood and looked, the more and more angry I became; until I could no longer take it and I just punched the mirror. Not surprising the cheap piece of crap shattered. The adrenalin that made me break the mirror soon left me, and it was replaced by this horrible nausea. And that was gone as soon as I threw up in the sink. I was sickened by the broken image of myself in the reminisce of what once use to be my bathroom mirror. I couldn't stand the filth that clung to my skin. I got in the shower and just stood in there and washed myself. I was not only trying to get all of the dried blood off of me, but I was trying to wash away the pathetic child that I was. I scrubbed myself so hard I started to bleed. But I didn't care I just wanted to get clean. As I watched the blood mix with the water, I thought about how nice it would be to take a piece of the glass that was laying on the floor and just slit my wrist. I could watch as my life drained from my body and swirled down the drain into the sewer; which is where I thought trash like me belonged. I was too scared to actually do it though. I was so terrified of what would happen to me. I was scared of what would happen to my soul, if I had one. I have always debated with myself over the issue of religion. I was born a Catholic; my mother had crucifixes all over the house. In fact she used one of the to beat me. Gives a whole new meaning 'to the power of Christ compels you huh'?"

Keller let out a small, halfhearted chuckle. Toby felt this sadness set in after Chris' little laugh. Toby felt that he wanted to hug Keller. He was perplexed on how someone could hide such pain so well. Chris appeared to be such a cocky bastard who did not have a care in the world, but he was just as sad and lonely as Tobias was. Toby wore his emotions on his sleeves but it appeared as if Keller kept his emotions locked behind reinforced steel door.