I woke up on the old, tattered blue couch. We had picked it up in the streets years ago, delighted someone would throw out something that was still usable. It took me a moment to remember what had happened.

 I touched my face, and felt the wet trails that tears left behind. That jolted me awake. I looked around to see if my dad was still in the house, but he wasn't. I checked my pocket and yep, sure enough, he had taken the money. 

He must've taken it to buy more beer, I thought bitterly. I checked my other pocket, and felt a scrap of paper. The paper the mysterious girl and boy had given me. I tried to sit up, but the pain was unbearable so I decided to read the note laying down.

"Hey. My name's Aria, and the guy that was with me was named Jacob. We are part of an organization that recruits people like you. Yes, you are struggling in life and you weren't dealt with the best hand at birth, but we've seen you get beaten down to the ground, kicked, scarred, and you got right back up and continued fighting. 

We don't just recruit anyone, but we believe you'll be a good addition to our team. Now, on to what our organization actually does. I have no intent of sugar coating it so I'll just say it. It's dangerous work, and it might just get you killed, but we'll do our very best to keep you alive. We're funded by the American government. Some might describe us as the police, but we aren't police by any means. Yes, we do enforce justice and protect others, but by our own accord. We aren't bound by law and we do what we think is right. The government doesn't control us. We await your answer tomorrow, at 5 in the evening at  the exact same spot you met us. P.s, please dispose of this letter when done reading. Also, we will explain more about what will happen if you agree to join." 

I let my hand drop and tried to absorb all the information. The note said that they were paid by the government. If that was true, I would get a decent amount of money if I decided to join them. Enough to live properly, anyway. But then there was the part about it being dangerous. 

It was pretty daunting to think of dying at the age of thirteen, and I had never really considered me dying, aside from maybe starvation. 

Suddenly, I laughed out loud. I didn't know why I was even thinking about it anymore. My choice was already made up the second they chose to talk to me. I hated my life. Despised it. Everyday was torture, and the nights were filled with restless sleep and pain. If I went on living like this, I would rather kill myself. As I thought this, I ripped the paper to shreds. At least now, I thought as I stood up. I'll have a chance. A chance to finally live the life I want.