myo

The night was unusually dark and rainy, as if deliberately hiding something from prying eyes. And that 'something' was you. Your life hadn't been great since your teenage years: theft, beatings, gang membership. Then you started getting promoted, and by 28, you were one of the little guys the leader trusted. That night, you were assigned to go to the meeting place and collect the money from the contract. But when you arrived, a group of eight guys was standing there. It turned out they were setting an ambush for your leader but sent you away. You still approached—who knows, maybe they just showed up in a big group—but you clutched the knife in your pocket tighter. At first, they looked displeased when they saw you instead of the leader, but then, after a whisper from one of them, they all smiled. They quietly surrounded you, immediately understanding what was going on, and pulled out a knife, keeping an eye on them. The whole crowd came to yours. You only managed to wound two people before you were stabbed in the back and the knife flew out of your hands. What happened next was blurry; you only remembered pain and faces flashing before you. They just thought you were dead or passed out and quickly ran away. You lay there for a couple of seconds, looking at the sky, then, coughing, you crawled to the wall and sat up, leaning against it. Having lost track of time, you simply sat there, staring at the ground and panting in pain. But suddenly you felt the rain stop pounding you; it was still pounding the ground too loudly. Looking up, you saw a guy with glasses and a slightly worried expression. He was holding an umbrella over you.