Chapter 3

It’s been three days since I lost my uncle and my job in one fell swoop. As I slouched on the couch, the taste of cheap cup noodles lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder of my current state. The once comforting warmth of the noodles now felt like a feeble attempt to stave off the chill of despair that enveloped me.

My appearance mirrored the chaos within – disheveled hair framing a face etched with exhaustion, clothes wrinkled and unkempt, a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging inside. I was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of where to turn or whom to reach out to for help.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the weight of grief and loss pressing down on me like a leaden shroud.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the suffocating silence, jolting me back to reality. With trembling hands, I fumbled for the device, its screencasting an eerie glow in the darkness. The caller ID flashed on the screen ‘unknown’ , a beacon of hope in the midst of despair, stirring a mix of apprehension and curiosity within me.

"Hello," I managed to choke out, my voice betraying the exhaustion and despair that threatened to consume me. Each word felt like a struggle, a desperate plea for connection, for someone to reach out and pull me back from the brink of despair.

“You have still today night to return the money,” a manly voice growled from the phone, sending a chill down my spine. My eyes widened in disbelief and fear as I struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Who could possibly be making such demands, especially in the midst of my grief and turmoil?

“Who is this?” I managed to choke out, my voice betraying a mix of confusion and rising anger. The nerve of this person to intrude on my suffering with threats and ultimatums was infuriating.

As the voice on the other end continued, detailing the consequences of my failure to repay my uncle’s debt, a wave of defiance washed over me. The mention of my uncle’s tragic fate only fueled the flames of my rage.

With a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I refused to cower in the face of intimidation. “You and your boss can go straight to hell!” I shouted, my words echoing in the hollow emptiness of the room. The sheer injustice of the situation ignited a firestorm of fury within me.

My voice shook with righteous indignation as I lashed out, refusing to be bullied into submission. “You’ve already taken everything from me,” I spat, each word dripping with contempt. “I won’t be your pawn in this sick game. Leave me alone!”

With a defiant flick of my thumb, I ended the call, cutting off the toxic tirade before it could poison my spirit any further.

I was so confused and angry. “How dare they think I was still going to give them the money after killing my uncle?” I yelled out loud, feeling the heat of my frustration rise to the surface. The walls of my apartment seemed to close in on me, every corner a reminder of the betrayal and violence that had shattered my world.

My thoughts were a chaotic storm, each one more maddening than the last. Uncle Jack had been my rock, the one person I could count on, and now he was gone. Murdered in cold blood. And these bastards still had the audacity to demand the money? It was unfathomable, a cruel joke played by a heartless universe.

Just as I was about to descend into another tirade, the doorbell rang, cutting through my rage like a knife. My heart jolted in my chest, the sound slicing through the fog of my anger. Fear, sharp and cold, gripped me. It could be those thugs. What if they had come for me next?

I hesitated, my feet rooted to the spot. Every instinct screamed at me to stay away from the door, but curiosity and a sense of inevitability pushed me forward. Each step felt like a mile, my heart pounding louder with each one. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears, drowning out rational thought. What was my fate if I went to the door? Was this the end?

I reached the door, my hand trembling as I slowly lifted it to the peephole. I peered through, my breath hitching. Relief washed over me when I saw my landlady, Mrs. Henderson, standing there. She was peering through the peephole from the other side, her brow furrowed in impatience as she knocked again.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself before unlocking the door and opening it slowly. Mrs. Henderson was standing there, her sharp eyes narrowing as they met mine. Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her thin lips were pressed into a hard line.

“Good morning,” I muttered, trying to mask my anxiety. But she scoffed, a sound filled with disdain.

“What’s good about the morning?” she sneered, thrusting a piece of paper into my hands. Her tone was icy, and I could feel the weight of her disapproval.

I looked down at the paper, my hands shaking slightly as I unfolded it. My eyes scanned the words, my mind struggling to process the information. It was an eviction notice. My eyes widened in shock, the paper crinkling in my grip.

“Eviction?” I stammered, looking up at Mrs. Henderson. “There must be some mistake.”

No way I could be getting an eviction notice during this time. “But I thought I paid the rent already,” I uttered, my voice barely audible. “I mean, I thought my uncle paid the rent.” I immediately corrected myself, as I always gave the bill money to my uncle to pay.

The old lady scoffed. “Your uncle hasn’t paid the rent for the last six months,” she said, gesturing with her hand in the air. My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“But I gave him the money to pay,” I whispered, feeling like I was about to collapse. “What did he do with it?” I asked myself as the old woman looked at me with disgust.

“Don’t act like you don’t know how your uncle usually gambled and came back home drunk,” the old lady said, her eyes scanning the door, trying to look inside. “He’s always been dodging me, but now the six months are up. He can’t hide from me anymore,” she yelled, as if she were trying to call my uncle out from hiding.

“Where is he?” she asked, noticing no one was coming out.

My throat tightened as I struggled to find the words. “He… he’s dead,” I finally managed to say, my voice breaking. “He was murdered a few days ago.”

The old lady’s expression shifted from anger to shock, and then to something resembling pity, though it was fleeting. “Murdered?” she repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air between us.

“He is dead,” I uttered, the words hitting my heart like a sledgehammer. I wasn’t ready to accept the fact that my own uncle was gone, never to return.

The old woman’s expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. “Well, you have five minutes to get your things out of here,” she said coldly before turning on her heel and leaving.

I watched her retreating figure until she disappeared from view. The reality of my situation crashed down on me, and I collapsed onto the floor. There was no coming back from this. I was ruined, completely and utterly.

Night fell, and I found myself wandering the streets aimlessly. My thoughts were consumed by pain and sadness, a relentless storm that I couldn’t escape. I didn’t even know where to go. The old lady had kicked me out, even changed the locks on the door, leaving me with nowhere to turn.

I couldn’t help but curse silently at my uncle. He had ruined my life entirely. “I hate you so much, Uncle,” I yelled out loud, my voice echoing in the empty streets. I was at the point of breaking, the weight of everything pushing me to the edge. I couldn’t bear the pain any longer.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the group of guys running towards me until they were almost on top of me. “What’s happening?” I said, confusion mixing with my despair. They passed by me in a blur, one of them roughly knocking into me as they ran.

“Run!” I heard one of them shout as gunshots rang out. My breath seized in my chest as I saw two groups of people exchanging gunfire. Panic surged through me, and I dropped to the ground, paralyzed with fear.

My mind screamed at me, What are you doing, Alyssa? Stand up and run! The voice in my head pleaded with me to move, to get away from the chaos that was inching closer by the second.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I scrambled to my feet and started running as fast as I could, tears streaming down my face. I had no idea where I was headed; all I knew was that I had to get away. The night air whipped past me, the breeze stinging my eyes and making my hair fly wildly as I fled.

Out of nowhere, I saw the headlights of a van bearing down on me. The blinding light disoriented me, and it was too late to stop. I tried to swerve, but my momentum carried me straight into the path of the vehicle. The impact was sudden and brutal, sending me flying through the air. As I soared, my life flashed before my eyes—memories of my childhood, my uncle’s smile, the betrayal, the eviction, and the hopelessness that had enveloped me.

With a heavy force, I landed on the ground, pain radiating through my body. I felt a warm liquid trickling from my head, and my vision started to blur. My mouth parted slightly, and I struggled to keep my eyes open, fighting against the darkness that threatened to engulf me.

Through the haze, I saw the light from the van and heard the crunch of gravel as a man stepped out and approached me. Each footfall echoed in my head, a harbinger of the doom that was closing in. My vision swam, but I could just make out his silhouette as he squatted down to my level.

Our eyes met, and I was confronted by his menacing gaze. "Time is up," he uttered, his voice cold and final. With that, he pulled a gun from his pocket.

Fear paralyzed me, and I could barely comprehend what was happening. The gunshot rang out, sharp and deafening, and my world dissolved into darkness.