~1 year ago

I was running with a twisted ankle and tear-filled eyes. I had to save myself, there was only one way out and I was not quite sure if the asshole would stop attacking me. Gambling was a real addiction. I was always told to be a good daughter, a disciplined child. The one, who doesn't smoke, go out partying, fuck guys behind my parents back or even have a boyfriend. But I couldn't care less. I left the house, The Arora State, 5 years ago, too fed up with this reckless imagery.

As of now, I was in a club after a wrecked escape. But something or someone always had to fuck me up. A pair of black eyes found their way towards me, even in a crowd of sticky and sweaty people. It looked familiar at first, but I realized how grave the danger was. Gambling was what landed me here. I couldn't stay in, I had to run. The maniac had a gun on his hand, and I was his target.

I thought leaving the city would be the better choice but apparently, I couldn't go too far. After failing to get away, I almost gave up and I stumbled across this local pub to get laid if not anything else. One of the men and probably his side-chick caught me and now they are running after my life. I had no money left to repay him after our last match. I would have gotten out of the city again, but I couldn't leave Zoya behind. It was a dark alley way, I had nowhere to run far. We reached the dead end, or I did, and the guy got his scapegoat. The only way out was the direction of the guy's back, who was facing me. The girl had a can of mace which was pointed right in my face.

I had punched the man a while ago before escaping him, so his face was red from the rage as well as blood. He was so close to my face. I could smell the musky scent of cigarettes and as his breath fanned over me. His 6 ft. figure towered my 5'6 body, and I felt trampled under his shadow. His eyes pierced into mine with a maniac upsurge of sadism. He had his gun pointed right below my chin. If looks could kill, I would've have reached hell far too soon already.

So, I did what was the worst for the situation. I silently tugged on my pocketknife, which was holsted right around my waist.

"Oh! You are so fucking dead, you bitch!" His deep husky voice said, enough to bring a shiver down my spine. I was so close to death, face of Zoya surrounded by foggy brain. My sister, the beautiful sweet Zoya, for whom I had been doing everything. My sister didn't leave the house with me. She sucked in all of the "A Good Girl's Guide to Slowly Kill Yourself for Your Family's Reputation." Fast forward to three years later, she got kicked out for wanting to marry an 'ordinary' guy, which was too bad, because that dickhead left her too. Now she lives with me, and I am doing everything to keep her from dying.

Maybe I could outdo him, maybe not, I thought and aimed to slash his face down. But before he could pull the trigger, I slashed his face, or so I thought. He ducked, perhaps too soon. But just as he ducked, I ducked and that knife went down his chest, instead of his face, as the mace sprayed on a wall behind me. He screamed and the side-chick grabbed him. Just as I pushed her down, her head hit a rock, and I ran away.

I don't remember how I ended up in the hospital, but I was glad Zoe was by my side. Apparently, her friend Kaia, found me in the alley in front of her flat and phoned Zoya immediately. I don't think she had seen that guy. Is he even alive? The small knife almost slashed his neckline. And the girl probably had run away or was dead. But at least I was alive. I had to find another way to survive.

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