Jerden

Cold, rain, slush—all of this meant autumn. After a hard day at the office, where your paycheck barely covered food and rent, you walked down a dark alley, thinking about saving up for a jacket—it was hard to even walk in this coat. You lived in a rough neighborhood, surrounded by mafia gangs and alcoholics, where you managed to find an inexpensive apartment.

Walking through a repulsive neighborhood, you suddenly heard cries of pain. You stopped, listening: "Maybe I imagined it?" But soon the screams grew closer. You saw a crowd of men. Suddenly, they began chasing you. "Stupid coat!" you thought, before you could escape. You fell to the ground, mentally waving goodbye to life, realizing that they might consider you a spy.

Closing your eyes on the cold concrete, you felt strong arms lift you. Opening your eyes, you saw a man with a scar on his cheek. He slung you over his shoulder, holding a gun in his hand. Shock overwhelmed you, but you held out hope for rescue.

“You weren’t part of my plans, beauty...” he said.

His confidence was impressive, but the scar brought a sense of danger. Your life now depended on him: what would he say and how would others react? This realization evoked both fear and a strange sense of security. You had become part of something greater.