Betrayed and played

Alexander's Point of View

I tried to speak, but the cops held grins on their faces, dragging me out of the house.

“Please, Father, I didn't do this,” I begged, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears.

The cops dipped their hands into my pants pockets, pulling out a wad of cash. On closer inspection, we noticed the money had an ink stain on its tip.

“Yup, that’s mine. I mark all my money,” he said, a hint of pride in his hoarse voice, as if he had won the lottery.

A burning sensation filled my eyes as the cops handcuffed me, dragging me out into the street.

“I didn’t do that! I’m innocent!” I cried, my voice filled with desperation, but they ignored me, their grip firm.

Suddenly, Alice walked up to me, her face grim. For a moment, I stood still, staring into her eyes, my pupils speaking a million words.

“I didn’t do it,” I begged her, but my words didn’t seem to melt her resolve. Without a word, she stepped closer. Before I could say anything more, she raised her hand, her palm brushing against my cheek, the sound echoing in the cold streets.

“I regret ever getting married to you, Alex. You’re just a worthless dog,” she scowled. The last thing I saw before being dragged into the car was her cold expression.

I bowed my head in shame, tears rolling down my cheeks. Why didn’t she believe me? The answer was obvious: because I was poor. Only the poor have the desire to steal.

After a while, I raised my head, and my expression changed as I watched the car take an unfamiliar route. This wasn’t the way to the police station. Where were they taking me?

The cop beside me pulled out a cigarette from his wallet, sticking it into his mouth. He flicked the lighter on, taking a long drag before exhaling, a slight cough following the dirty fog.

“Where are you guys taking me?” I asked, a hint of curiosity in my voice.

“Shut up, asshole. You have no right to speak,” the driver snapped, his eyes fixed on the road. I squinted at the tattoo on his neck, reading the letters inked in black.

“Don,” I mumbled. My eyes widened as the realization hit me—they weren’t cops. They were a gang. This was all a setup, orchestrated by my father-in-law. But why?

Unexpectedly, we pulled up at the end of an empty street, and the driver got out, opening the door for the others to step out. If I guessed right, he was the lowest in rank.

“Asshole,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes in disappointment.

“What did you say?” one of the others asked in annoyance.

“Nothing,” I replied, the smirk on my lips disappearing.

Before I could anticipate their next move, one of the thug’s knuckles collided with my mouth, sending me to the ground.

They all gathered around, punching me in the face and body. I tried to shield myself, but they were too fast, their blows hitting below the groin. My offense? I was yet to find out.

A few minutes later, they stopped.

“This is fun,” one of them said, dragging me by the leg, my head repeatedly colliding with the pavement as blood trickled out. I could hear them laughing.

Suddenly, I felt my body go wet, and from their taunting laughter, I knew what it was. Forcing my eyelids open, I marked the face of the one who committed the atrocity. Another thug pulled out a gun, slamming the butt of it into my disfigured face.

“So, Alex, you gonna sign the divorce papers?” the driver asked, his voice firm.

Despite the sheer pain coursing through my veins, I managed to sit upright. I wiped the blood trickling down my forehead and nostrils, staring the driver in the eyes, a cold smirk forming on my lips.

“All this just to make me sign divorce papers?” I asked, a sinister smile spreading across my face. “Weaklings. Your best hit, huh? You’ll have to hit harder to get me to sign those papers.”

He clenched his fist and threw it across my face. The last thing I remembered was the sharp crack of someone’s knuckles before everything turned pitch black.

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of rain pouring down in sheets, soaking me. My shirt clung tightly to my muscular body.

“Damn it,” I groaned in pain, rising to my feet and clutching my head. I dragged my leg down the road, each step agonizing. Somehow, I managed to crawl to the main road and stood there, hailing a taxi.

The ride home was quiet, occasionally interrupted by the screeching tires as the driver navigated through intersections. After what felt like an eternity, we pulled up at Alice’s apartment, and I stepped out.

I took a deep breath, willing the voices in my head to shut up. Checking my wallet, I realized I didn’t have a dime on me.

“Give me a sec,” I pleaded with the cab driver before walking into the apartment.

“The cab driver is waiting. Would you mind lending me some cash? I’ll pay you back,” I pleaded.

Her face was cold as she stared at me for a while.

“You’re pathetic!” she sneered, tossing a few bills at me with a flick of her finger.

The money floated in the air as she walked into the room, then it fell to my feet.

I picked it up, paid the driver, and dragged myself back into the apartment. I walked into my room, sitting on the stool and staring at my disfigured face in the mirror.

I rummaged through the drawer, pulling out the bottle of whiskey and pouring it over my fresh wounds.

After a while, I walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and closing my eyes. The water raced down my spine, a stinging sensation spreading across my body as it washed away the grime and exhaustion of the day. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart.

My fingers ran through my damp hair, scrubbing out the blood that clung to the strands.

I wrapped a towel around my waist, walked into the room, and slipped into comfortable clothes for the night.

Finally, I collapsed onto the soft mattress, my body heavy. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting off. I was going to get Alice to love me again,it was just a matter of time.

Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted into unconsciousness, a world where I could finally be with Alice, if only temporarily.