Life 2

Her arms relaxed, giving him just enough space to turn.

But the second he faced her, she wrapped him more securely.

"Seriously? What are you doing? Stop being such a spoiled brat."

Her breath brushed his lips, and the look in her eyes drew him in, making it hard to resist her natural charm.

A girl this pretty could drive any man crazy.

'Calm down. She's my sister. Don't.'

He shut his eyes, trying to push out the thoughts messing with his head.

She pressed her face against his chest. "Let's get out of here."

Ken sighed deeply. He knew he was partly to blame for how she turned out.

He acted too protective when she was young, and she grew too dependent on him.

What she was feeling now wasn't true love; it was a twisted kind of attachment shaped by everything they had gone through. Her fixations had to be shattered before it was too late.

"Find someone who can give you a better life. I'm a loser with no future. You'd be better off with someone else."

Silence filled the room again, broken only by the soft rhythm of her breathing.

"I don't want anyone but you. If it's not you, then I'd rather be single for the rest of my life!"

Without warning, she pulled him close and pushed her lips against his, pouring every emotion she held.

Tongue slipped into his mouth before he could stop it. 

And reflexively, his body started to respond. 

No man could stay still with a girl like her offering herself.

His hand slid to her waist as their tongues melded together.

But just as the heat rose inside him, guilt and reality crashed through his mind, and he pushed her away. 

"We can't do this. You're just confused right now," he explained, although it did not help that he was also breathing heavily. 

"Fine. But I won't change my mind no matter how much you push me," her voice trembled as she reluctantly walked away, giving him space to think.

Ken locked the door to his room, then slid down the wall until the cold floor caught him.

'Fuck... I'm a fucking coward!'

Every part of him wanted to hit something to vent his frustration. If he hadn't been such a coward in the first place, he would've escaped this life a long time ago. 

But deep down, he knew it would be pointless. So he got up, grabbed two painkillers from the desk, and swallowed them dry. 

Heat crawled under his skin the moment he lay down. 

Staring at the ceiling, all he could think about was sinking into it and vanishing, even if only for a while.

Ring ring ring

The phone buzzed beneath a pile of shirts. 

A message lit up the screen:

(Job at the market stalls tonight.) 

'Another one.'

He remembered this shop. The owner missed multiple payments because sales dropped hard for the last few months. 

The twenty percent monthly interest didn't help either. It was straight-up robbery, but these people had no choice. 

No bank would lend to them because they were already buried in existing debt. It was the result of trying to survive in a society driven so much by greed and money. 

The tightness in his chest didn't fade, so he closed his eyes and tried to rest. 

A few hours later, the phone buzzed again. 

His eyes opened slowly. He fumbled through the mess until he found the phone. 

(We're outside. Don't make us wait.) 

Getting up, he threw on a black hoodie, grabbed a knife, and slipped it into his pocket. Didn't bother looking in the mirror. 

The same van as always waited for him outside. He opened the door, and the stink rolled out. Sweat, smoke, and sour smells filled his nose.

Three of Robert's guys were already inside. He knew them well because he spent most of his life ignoring their nonsense. 

Niko lit a cigarette with one hand while steering with the other, eyes locked on the road like it owed him money. 

Leon kept tapping a coin against the dash. Picked up the habit in prison. 

Dre was in the back, running his mouth like usual. Youngest of the bunch, but acted like he always had something to prove.

"We'll rough 'em up real good tonight," Dre laughed, cracking his knuckles. "Maybe they'll think twice next time before shorting us."

Ken didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood to talk. 

"Don't bother him, Kid," Niko chuckled. "Heard the boss went off on him again for screwing up collections." 

"Again?" Dre shook his head. "You know, bro, you're good at fighting. If you acted more like a real gangster, the boss might actually treat you like family." 

Leon snorted. "Boss says you're a beast when you want to be but too damn stubborn. You only throw hands when your back's against the wall. What's the point of being good at fighting if you don't use it?"

He stayed quiet. No point explaining. None of them knew what it felt like to be in his shoes.

Although he was stronger than most, it wasn't by choice. He was just born with faster reflexes and picked up fighting quicker than others. 

'Strong, huh?' He found that word laughable when used to describe him.

To him, real strength meant living free, without chains or being forced into dirty work.

The trio, knowing he wasn't in the mood to talk, left him alone.

By the time they reached the market, things had started slowing down. 

Some stalls were still open. Vendors packed up crates, counted coins under flickering lights. 

Others pulled down tarps, whispering to each other as they watched the van stop. 

The second the group stepped out, everything got quiet. 

People recognised them, but not for the right reasons.