A Test of Survival

The cold, empty factory reeked of rust and neglect. The long-abandoned building was filled with echoes of a past life, and every surface told a story of decay.

Adam was dragged inside by a group of men whose cruel laughter filled the large, shadowy space. As his body hit the hard concrete floor with a dull thud, a sharp pain shot through him.

He lay there for a moment, stunned by the sudden, brutal turn his life had taken. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as he realized just how deep into danger he had fallen.

His mind raced with fear. He knew he needed to find a way out—and fast. If he didn't escape soon, his entire future would be in jeopardy.

Meanwhile, in the dim light of the factory, John's friends rifled through Adam's bag with cruel delight. Their eyes sparkled with mischief as they casually tossed aside Adam's belongings.

Within moments, their laughter grew louder when they found only a single $100 bill hidden among the items.

One of them, unable to hide his contempt, scoffed and waved the bill in the air as if it were a pathetic trinket. "That's it?" he jeered, his voice echoing off the metal walls.

Even John, who usually kept his words few and harsh, chuckled darkly at the sight. The sound of laughter filled the cold space, making the atmosphere even more oppressive.

Their cruel amusement stung Adam's pride, but as he watched them, a plan began to form in his mind.

In that moment of vulnerability, he realized that he needed to convince them he was even weaker than they thought—a feeble target, so fragile that they might lose interest if they believed he was not worth the trouble.

Acting quickly, Adam forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward John. His voice was shaky and desperate as he pleaded, "Please… give that back! I haven't eaten since yesterday! I'll go hungry tonight without it!" His words dripped with feigned desperation, each syllable carefully chosen to pity himself.

John's face twisted in amusement at the sight of Adam's act. His eyes danced with cruel delight. Without a moment's hesitation, John lifted his leg and delivered a brutal kick straight to Adam's face.

The force sent Adam sprawling back onto the cold, hard floor, and more laughter erupted from the gang as they reveled in his suffering. The sound of mocking cackles bounced off the factory walls, amplifying Adam's humiliation.

Despite the searing pain, Adam clenched his fists and fought to suppress his true feelings. Deep down, he knew his plan depended on convincing them that he was utterly helpless.

If they decided to kill him now, his carefully laid plans for the future would be shattered forever. With his heart pounding, he forced his body to act as if he were completely defeated.

His eyes burned with a mix of anger, and he silently repeated to himself, 'I have to make them believe I'm completely helpless. If they decide to kill me now, my entire plan will fall apart.'

Just then, one of John's friends broke through the mocking laughter. "John, when you said you'd make his life hell, I had my doubts. But looking at him now, I have to admit—you really pulled it off. This is even better than I imagined!"

His words were loud enough for everyone to hear, and the praise made John's chest swell with pride.

In that moment, tormenting Adam seemed like a grand achievement, something that confirmed his own power.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Adam decided it was time to push his act further. With a shaky breath, he let out a pitiful sob. His voice trembled as he curled up on the cold, concrete floor, his body trembling as he pretended to break down completely.

He clutched his face in a manner that made his vulnerability obvious. "Please… I really have nothing left. If you take that money, I'll starve on the streets," he pleaded, his tone laden with sorrow and desperation.

For a moment, the air seemed to still. John and his friends exchanged glances, as if considering the sincerity of Adam's act.

Then, instead of showing any sympathy, they burst into even louder, more mocking laughter. Their cruelty filled the space, leaving Adam feeling even more isolated.

"Here," John sneered as he stepped closer to Adam. He dangled the single $100 bill in front of Adam's face like a taunting prize. "You want your precious money?" His voice was full of scorn, each word dripping with contempt.

Adam's heart pounded wildly. In his mind, he repeated, 'Yes… just a little more.' He weakly lifted his hand, his eyes fixed on the dangling bill, trying to appear as desperate as possible.

Every movement was slow and labored, designed to convince his tormentors that he was nothing but a broken, pathetic man.

But before his trembling fingers could reach the money, one of John's friends struck again. A harsh kick landed directly into Adam's stomach, and his body jerked violently from the impact.

The pain exploded in his gut, causing him to gasp involuntarily. This time, the agony was real, and the forced sob that escaped his lips was unfiltered and raw.

Despite the unbearable pain, Adam's mind stayed focused on his plan. 'Just endure it… just a little longer…' he thought, forcing himself to cling to the hope that this act of feigned weakness might buy him time.

John crouched down beside him, pressing his heavy boot against Adam's chest to keep him pinned to the cold floor. Slowly and deliberately, John twirled the $100 bill between his fingers, his eyes never leaving Adam's pained face.

Then, with a sudden and shocking act, John tore the bill into four pieces and flung the shredded pieces onto Adam's face. "Listen, worm," John said in a voice thick with cruelty.

"I was planning to kill you today, but my father told me not to. Lucky you." His grin widened as he continued, "But don't think this is over. This is just the beginning."

With those ominous words, John delivered another vicious kick to Adam's ribs. Adam instinctively curled up, his arms wrapping around himself as he tried to shield his tender body from the blows that followed.

One kick after another landed with relentless precision. The pain was almost too much to bear, but Adam bit his lip and forced himself to stay conscious. Amid the brutal assault, his mind churned with one clear thought: 'I have to survive'.

John's anger seemed to swell further with each strike. His face was twisted in fury, and his eyes burned with a dangerous intensity. Just as he was about to launch yet another kick, one of his friends grabbed John's arm, pulling him back.

"John, don't forget what your dad said," the friend reminded him with a mocking tone. "If this guy starves and dies like a beggar on the street, that'd be way more entertaining, right?"

John exhaled sharply, his anger momentarily tempered by the reminder. With a final, forceful kick, he signaled that the torment was over for now. "Yeah, you're right. Let's leave this piece of trash here."

His voice was cold, and as the group began to gather their things and prepare to leave, John glanced back one last time. His eyes gleamed with malice as he taunted, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to check on you every week. Wouldn't want you dying too soon."

And with that, the gang left the factory. Their laughter echoed down the empty hallways and out, as they disappeared from sight, leaving Adam alone in the cold floor.

Adam lay on the hard floor, barely breathing. His body ached from the relentless beating, and blood dripped slowly from his split lip and bruised face.

Despite the agony and humiliation, a small, defiant smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at the cold, gray ceiling. 'They think I'm weak'. He thought, and in that thought, he found a glimmer of hope. 'Good. They have no idea what's coming next'.

Every ounce of pain, every cruel kick, and every mocking laugh would only fuel his determination. In that moment of suffering, deep within his battered heart, Adam resolved that he would not let these bullies crush his spirit.

He knew that if he could just endure this trial, his plan for a greater future would still have a chance to come to fruition.

He pressed his trembling hand to his chest, feeling his pulse quicken, and slowly began to gather his strength. Even though his body screamed in agony, his mind was sharp and calculating. 

Every insult, every act of brutality was noted in his memory as a reminder of the obstacles he must overcome.

He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, even as the pain pulsed through his body.

The harsh reality of his situation only strengthened his resolve. With every heartbeat, he silently promised himself that he would not be broken by this attack. He was far too determined to see his plans crumble.

The empire he envisioned, the future he had dreamed of—it all depended on him surviving this brutal test.

As he lay there, his face still smeared with the torn pieces of the $100 bill and streaked with blood, a part of him felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. In his mind, he repeated, 'They think I'm weak. And that is exactly what I want them to believe.' For now, if they underestimate him, they will be caught off guard when he rises again.