Rebirth: What’s Left Of Me

The whiskey burned going down, but I barely noticed. The rain hammering against my office window had become a familiar sound to me—one I was beginning to resent. The war with the Vultures had been dragging on for months, and the body count just kept climbing. The cops were breathing down my neck, demanding answers I didn't have. My crew—my family—was all I had left, and I'd fight to the bitter end to keep us on top.

But something was wrong. Jobs had gone south, shipments intercepted, safe houses raided like clockwork. Someone was feeding the Vultures intel, and deep down, I already knew who.

Eli Roth. My right-hand man. My brother.

We'd run this gang together since high school. I wanted to believe he was still the guy who had my back through shootouts, deals gone wrong, and nights when we had nothing but each other and a couple of stolen beers. But everything pointed to him. And soon, I'd have my proof.

Not that I wanted it.

Tonight, I should've gone to the warehouse to regroup after the last bloody shootout. My men—no, my dead men—were still fresh on my clothes.

Instead, I went home.

Something told me to.

And that's where I found them.

Eli, sprawled out on my couch like he owned the place, cigarette in one hand, the other resting possessively on Emily's thigh. My wife. The woman I had built this empire for.

"You're home early," she purred, sipping whiskey from my favorite glass.

Eli smirked, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray like he hadn't just betrayed everything we built. "We need to talk, bro."

I froze in the doorway, fingers twitching toward my gun. "You better start fucking talking fast."

"Relax, man," he said, exhaling smoke. "It's nothing personal. Business is changing, and I'm making moves. The Vultures have a bigger offer, and you? You've been slipping. Stuck in the past. It's time for something new."

My pulse pounded in my ears. "You're really working with them?"

Emily leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder like it belonged there. "And with me," she whispered, eyes glinting like a cat watching a dying mouse.

"Why?" I hissed.

Eli chuckled. "Because we're all tired of having a fag for a boss."

White-hot rage exploded in my chest. I took a step forward, amazed at the audacity. I was ready to paint the walls with both of them, but before I could draw my weapon, the front door burst open.

Bullets ripped through the air.

I barely managed to dive for cover before my own men—no, not my men anymore—stormed in, guns drawn.

Eli had turned them all against me.

I had no choice but to run.

*****

For days, I moved through the city like a ghost. No safe houses, no allies. Every rat in this town was after me, eager to claim the bounty Eli had put on my head. The people I once protected, made money with, had all turned on me the second it was convenient.

I could've gone to my parents. Maybe. But after everything I did, after the way they looked at me the last time we spoke, I knew that door was bolted shut. They said they never wanted to see me again.

They were still gladly taking my money, though.

Whatever.

A week passed, and I found myself deep in the boonies, a few towns over. No one knew me here. No one cared that I was crashing in a stolen tent on someone's property.

The old woman who owned the land had found me once, but instead of calling the cops, she fed me. Asked no questions.

She reminded me of my mother when she was sober. Kind. Gentle. Which is why I knew I had to leave. She was too soft and vulnerable for a bastard like me to be around.

"My life is a mistake, old lady," I told her.

She patted my head like I was some lost kid. "You'll only know that when you die," she said. "If you made mistakes, it's not too late to turn your life around."

I scoffed. "I'm already in too deep, grandma."

She smiled, like she knew something I didn't. "Stubborn boy. I can tell you have good karma coming your way."

Delusional.

That night, I packed up my tent. As I started down the hill, I felt the weight of the small silver cross necklace she'd pressed into my palm before I left.

I hadn't robbed her. That was a start, right?

Maybe if I started doing good things, something good would finally happen to me.

The rain poured down in thick sheets as I trudged downhill, my boots sinking into the muddy earth with each step. The forest was dense, the trees stretching high above, their branches swaying violently under the storm's wrath. Water dripped from the leaves in heavy droplets, soaking my clothes and making the weight of my exhaustion all the more unbearable. The cold wind howled through the trees, whistling a warning I should've heeded. But I didn't.

Up ahead, movement caught my eye.

Four figures, barely visible through the downpour. Instinctively, I pulled my hood up, my body tensing. Were they waiting for me? No one should've been able to follow me out of the last town—I was sure of that.

"Ugh!" One of them slipped, landing hard on his ass. He grabbed his ankle with a wince.

"Hey, that's enough! Let's just set up camp here until the rain stops," another guy said, his tone frustrated but not panicked.

"It's not like we can really mess around here," a third added.

"Quickly help me up already!" The guy who fell snapped. "Ow! I can't fucking walk!"

Hikers? Out here? In this weather?

The old lady's words echoed in my head.

"If you made mistakes, it's not too late to turn your life around."

Could this be my chance to try like the old lady said?

I had robbed, murdered, and destroyed countless lives. How much good would I have to realistically do to balance the scales? Probably live the rest of my life in hiding as a goddamn monk. But this? Helping some poor bastard down the hill?

That was easy enough.

"Hey!" I called out. "Do you need help? I heard you say you can't walk."

The four turned to face me, eyes wary. Intimidated. I was used to that. I was a pretty big and scary guy after all..

The injured guy hesitated, then said, "Then... can you help me walk for a bit? We're trying to get all the way down this hill with all our stuff."

I sighed. "Today's the day I decided to be a good guy, so I'll carry you as far as needed, kid."

I lifted him onto my back with ease. The punk was surprisingly light. Do kids even eat these days?

"Aren't I heavy?" he asked as we started moving.

"That's why it's important to exercise every day," I said. "You're lucky you have friends to hike with."

Lucky.

The word tasted bitter in my mouth.

I had just lost the one friend I thought I'd have until I died. And the worst part? I never even got to say how I actually felt. Eli would've laughed in my face. I would've been rejected, but at least I would've said it and been able to move on!

"Is it?" the kid on my back asked.

"Yeah. You guys just chose the wrong day to go hiking in the woods," I muttered.

"We didn't though," he said.

Something in his tone made the hairs on my neck stand up.

"It looks like the day was exactly right, didn't we, boys?"

Then—

A sharp, familiar kind of pain.

A pocket knife was buried in the side of my neck.

"Argh!" I staggered as the kid leapt off my back.

"Did you see that?! Fuck, I finished him!" He sounded excited.

My only good deed was leaving that old lady's property before she got dragged into my mess. That had to count for something, right?

I clamped a hand to my neck, trying to slow the bleeding. My fingers came away warm and sticky.

"You fucking punk!" I hissed.

Amateurs. They didn't even hit anything vital.

"Wow, this can't be over all at once," the one with the knife muttered, nerves creeping into his voice.

"What are we gonna do now?" another asked.

"What do you mean? He's wounded in the neck! Let's just wrap this shit up!"

I forced a breath through clenched teeth. "Do you guys even know who the fuck you're messing with right now? Who the fuck sent you?"

One of them scoffed. "Are you fucking stupid or something? How do you not know about that huge bounty on your head? We all want $50 million!"

Fucking hell.

If they were here, how many more were close behind?

I had to buy time. I should've played dead or ran but my ego wasn't letting me. "If you go now, I'll blame it on the adults and move on," I offered.

"You think we'll get caught today?"

"Fuck, this guy is gonna die good!"

"I can already taste the money!"

Motherfuckers.

After everything, after all the power I built—this was how it was going to end? Like some powerless kid again?

No.

"Fuck!" I roared. "Then risk your life and come at me!"

I charged forward, swinging hard, cracking my fist across the face of the little shit who stabbed me. He reeled back, stumbling.

Another came at me with a knife—I dodged and drove my fist upward, smashing his jaw. His knife clattered to the ground. One of his teeth followed.

"Die!" another screamed.

He almost got me. Almost.

I caught his wrist, twisted the knife out of his grip, and drove my fist into his gut. He crumpled.

The first punk lunged at me from behind.

I used the guy I just knocked down as leverage, kicking off his back and tackling my attacker.

We rolled a few feet down the muddy hill.

I landed on top of him, fingers wrapping around his throat.

"I'm not going to fucking die in the boonies!" I snarled.

His eyes went wide. He choked, gasped, struggled.

Then—

"Mommy!" he sobbed. "Save me! I'll just go home!"

My grip faltered.

Fuck.

They sent kids after me?

I hesitated—just for a second.

Pain exploded in my back.

Shit.

My fingers loosened from his neck.

A second blade.

The kid I was choking shoved it straight into my stomach.

"Thank god that old lady kept you here until we arrived," he laughed. "She made us a nice dinner."

That raggedy bitch!

She sold me out.

All that kindness. All those words. She sure played her role well. Eli taught me better than to trust someone being too nice without asking for anything in return. But I still let my guard down.

"What was it all for?!"

More knives. One in my side. Another in my throat. The ground caught me as they pushed me down and pulled their blades free.

I watched them run as I lay there, rain mixing with my blood. The pain wasn't sharp anymore. It was dull, spreading, soaking into my bones like the rain. My fingers twitched, but I couldn't lift them. My breath hitched, shallow, desperate. Was this how it felt to die? No gunfire, no glory—just bleeding out in the dirt like a stray dog.

I couldn't move, but I could laugh.

Not from joy.

From shame.

A fucking closet case betrayed by his best friend and wife, played like a fool for ten years. Burned every bridge for Eli, only to be his pawn. And now? Taken down by a grandma and some kids.

All because I was starved for affection.

Because it turns out I was the joke.

Because I trusted out of love.

Eli never loved me back. The thought tasted like blood, thick and metallic. A decade of loyalty, of sacrifice, of pretending my feelings were just friendship—worthless. My chest ached worse than the stab wounds.

If I had another crack at life, I wouldn't fuck it up like this. I felt so afraid that for the first time in my godforsaken life, I prayed.

"Please, God, if only I could have one more chance, I'd make the best out of it. I might still do bad things, but I'd live differently than I lived this terrible life! I won't make the same mistakes twice! I'll be the best version of myself this world has ever seen!"

Was I really expecting a miracle when I was clearly dying. Mom was right when she said I'd die alone.

At least I went out swinging, right?

Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, curling inward, swallowing the trees, the rain, the laughter of those little shits running off with their blood-stained knives. My body felt weightless. Like I was already floating away.

Maybe this was it.

Death.

[System Online]