70

As he flipped through the yellowed old pages, he sat down on the neatly made bed and began to read, curiosity etched on his features. Don Carianno’s writing was in beautiful cursive. It looked like he took his time to scribble, dotting all his i's and crossing his t's. He flipped through the first pages, there was an entry about a new shipment, but it didn’t make sense. He could not decipher the code words. He flipped through a few more pages, and that was when he saw an entry about him. It read: "Ghost, that’s what we’re going to name him. He’s, after all, a Ghost."

He pondered on the words, this was around the time they found him, and he had a vague memory of it. The story was that they found him washed up beside a beachside, in tattered clothing. His best guess was Darius and whoever he was in cahoots with had thrown him overboard.

There was a new entry on the next page where Don Carianno admitted he had picked him to use as a scapegoat. He was a ghost, with no memory of his life,