The air around me became heavy. I could hardly breathe, gasping so hard that I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Sweat ran down my body, but I wasn't afraid.
The huge man grabbed my shoulder, lifted me, and in a flash threw me against the wall. The others shouted, waving their planks and metal rods.
Before I could even stand up, he was already behind me. He picked me up again and slammed me to the ground, pinning me down with his heavy legs.
My body couldn't take the beating any longer. It ached all over. My eyes slowly began to close, and my mouth filled with blood, which slowly spilled from my lips.
I was lifted again and thrown across the room. I slammed into the wall, and my hand broke—I could hear and feel the crack and the pain that followed.
Was I really this hopeless? I thought, crawling toward the corner. No… I don't want to die here. I could hear my heart screaming it. My eyes begged for tears, but no—I refused to yield.
As I crawled, the man walked toward me slowly, the others following behind him. I kept moving back, pressing myself toward the wall even though I knew there was nowhere to go.
Then suddenly, my hand hit something. I looked down—it was an iron rod. I didn't know where it came from, but I crawled closer to it and lay on it, pretending I was too weak to move.
Are you tired of running, little guy?"
The huge man moved closer and bent down. He grabbed my ear and pulled it, harder and harder, like he wanted to rip it off completely.
In a twinkling, I gathered my strength and rushed up, aiming the rod at his head. He tried to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough—the rod pierced through his eye.
I held onto it and pushed. He screamed in pain as blood mixed with fluid poured out of his eye. I shoved him, and he fell back. I quickly pulled the rod out, drove it into his second eye, pulled it out again, and struck his cheek.
His subordinates were busy hitting me with planks and rods. I could feel the pain as the blows kept landing on my back and head, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to kill the huge man.
I drove the iron rod into him again—his neck, his head, his mouth, his nose—over and over, all over his face and neck, until no one would be able to recognize his corpse. I didn't even know why I was doing it anymore. All I wanted in that moment was to kill.
I stood up, still being hit by the others. Holding my rod tightly, I rushed toward the next man. I jumped on him and bit into his nose, my teeth stuck in it as he screamed in pain. I could hear the agony in his voice. I tore at it with my teeth, then drove the rod through his temple—the rod went through his head and came out the other side.
Blood gushed out.
Then—
"Gbam!"
A heavy metal object hit my head. My ears went numb, my vision started shutting down, and my tongue tasted salt.
I closed my eyes… and gave in to the darkness.
I opened my eyes in a room. I wasn't sure if I was still in the cell. I looked to my left and saw my mom sitting in the corner, crying into a towel. She sat near the fire, cooking something.
"You're awake, buddy."
A voice came from behind me, and I felt a hand on my head. I turned immediately—it was Mr. Shaw, my dad's friend.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked.
Suddenly, flashes came rushing back. I remembered all the terror that happened in the cell. I could still feel the pain—my head still hurt.
"I'm sorry…" I burst into tears, the words breaking as they came out. "Mr. Shaw… I killed—"
Mr. Shaw hugged me immediately. "Don't worry," he said. "I've got it covered."
My mom came closer with a bowl of hot water. She dipped the towel into it and placed it gently on my head. I could feel the warmth stinging against my wounds—I must have been badly injured up there.
Some weeks later, I felt much better. Dad came home a few times—he criticized me, sometimes ignored me. He was disappointed in my actions. I didn't care though. I couldn't just let them kill me like that.
I strolled down the street, not going to the store or any destination. I just wanted to walk—it had been a long time. It was close to spring now, the air already changing. I wore a sleeveless shirt, showing off my muscles. My dark, soft hair moved with the breeze.
I kept walking until I reached a playground. There were a few kids there, with their parents watching them. I sat on one of the benches, enjoying the view.
Then a boy came up to me, maybe younger than me.
"Hi, do you remember me?" he asked.
I tried to recall his face. I didn't usually interact with people around here, so there was no way I would know him. I ignored him.
"Thanks for the other day," he said, holding out a twenty-pound note to me.
I was surprised. Someone from a low background wouldn't normally have that kind of money to give away. I looked at his face again. This time, I remembered—he was the boy I fought for, the one who got me arrested.
I didn't hesitate. I took the money and slipped it into my trousers—I didn't even have a pocket.
I still didn't say anything to him.
He sat beside me and started talking about the playground. His parents didn't have time for him—his mother was a nurse, and his father was a clerk. They worked a lot.
He told me everything about his family. I thought he was foolish—because even someone like me wouldn't reveal that much, not even about myself. In England, everyone is discreet.
I didn't say much about myself. I only told him I lived not far from there.
"You know why I'm telling you all this?" he asked, standing up. "Because I believe you're a good person."
With that, he left. A car had been waiting for him the whole time.
Damn… he was rich.
I stood up and took my leave too. There was nothing left for me to do anyway.
I had barely walked for a minute when I noticed a car following me. I glanced back—it was a black Ford Sierra RS Cosworth.
When I got to a store, I went inside, pretending I wanted to buy something. I hid behind the counter and watched them through the glass. They were still there, parked.
As soon as I stepped outside again, they followed.
Now I had no choice but to run.
I dashed into a corner, running blindly—taking any path I could, jumping fences, not stopping. I just kept running, because I could hear footsteps behind me.
They were chasing me.
Then I reached a dead end. I couldn't jump the fence—it was too high. I stood there, breathing heavily.
Then they appeared.
They were all dressed the same—a red bandana tied around their heads, sleeveless red shirts with a skull logo, and short green trousers.
There were three of them.
No… four.
As I stood there, the first three stepped aside, making way for a man. He was dressed differently. He wore a black hat and nothing on his upper body, his muscles tightening with every step. He had on long, loose trousers, and a thick cigarette hung from his mouth.
"When I heard about the incident in the cell, I thought I'd be meeting a monster," he said, moving closer. "But it turns out you're just a boy… running with his tail between his legs."
The others laughed—a strange, unsettling laugh.
I charged at him with full force and threw a punch, but he dodged it easily. I tried again, and again—but he avoided every single one.
He was playing with me.
"I didn't come here for a fight," he said calmly. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."
He stepped closer.
"Work for me, and I'll pay you."
"No… I can't—"
"Well, you don't have a choice," he cut in. "I already know where you live. Either you work for me… or I wipe you and your mother out."
He pulled out a paper.
It was a picture of my mom.
"You don't have to work for me for long," he continued. "You just have to complete three missions for me, then you'll gain your freedom."
He bent down toward me, removed his cigarette, and blew the smoke into my face.
"After all, you killed my brother… but I don't blame you for that. He was just weak. You just have to do these missions to make it up to me."
He straightened up and began to walk away.
"Be at the playground by seven tomorrow morning," he said.
Then they left.
⸻
I walked home. My mom didn't question me. She was sewing a hat—that's what she did whenever she had free time.
I lay down and slipped my hand into my pocket… but my money was gone.
I felt disappointed.
⸻
The next morning, I woke up early—before my mom. I washed my face and tried to sneak out.
Just as I opened the door, she woke up.
"Where are you going this early?"
"Erm… for a workout," I said.
She didn't question it. I wasn't a child anymore.
I stepped outside and hurried toward the playground. It was quiet when I got there. I sat on the bench, waiting.
Then the same vehicle pulled up and honked at me.
I stood up… and got in.
Another man picked me up. It was a new face. He looked quiet—a white man with grey hair, around twenty-seven, I guessed.
"You can call me Wood," he said.
I nodded.
"My name is Grey," I replied, giving him a fake name.
"Alright, let me explain what you're going to do," he began. "There's a group of worms over in Hawkins End. They've got a real stash in their barn. Your job is simple—go in there, take the drugs and the money, and get out."
I froze.
This was my first time doing something like this. I didn't even know where to start. Maybe this was a dead end for me.
"It might be dangerous," he continued, "but if you follow the plan, you'll be fine."
He glanced at me before going on.
"When you get there, there'll be about fifty or sixty of them guarding the place. You don't have to fight them. Just ask for their boss… kill him, and take what he has. He carries the key to the safe. The drugs are inside."
He said it like it was nothing. Like it was easy.
But I knew it wouldn't be.
Still… killing the boss wouldn't be hard for me anymore.
If I succeeded, he would be the third person I'd killed.
The thought made me feel guilty—but I had no choice.
I nodded.
And just like that, we drove off.