Released into hell

~COOLEY~

I've just been released from prison.

Two years ago, my life fell apart within a month.

My father's business was the first to go bankrupt because of an unknown whistle blower. This made our family name become what must not be whispered or talked about in business circles. Old alliances avoided us, partners disappeared and doors that once opened easily were closed.

Then my Father passed away in our living room. The physician stated that a heart attack was the reason for his death. Although I doubted it because my father did not had a heart attack history in his health chart.

However, I had no clue that it was not the end.

When the investigation of my father's company revealed my father's tax fraud, the law responded as it typically does. Because the offender had died, an adult family member needed to fulfill the sentence on his behalf.

My uncle and aunt didn't show any signs of hesitation before they determined my fate that I would be the one to go to prison.

Although they had benefited from my father's wealth significantly more than they had ever valued him, they didn't view themselves as deserving of imprisonment.

"You are his child."

"You are indebted to him to that extent."

“It’s just a couple of years.”

I declined furiously.

I was only twenty three years old. Why should I go to jail?

I wanted to take my thirteen-year-old autistic brother and flee but they moved faster and showed me the lengths they were ready to reach to make me agree.

They took my younger brother and hid him away then threatened that if I didn't comply, they would hand him over to traffickers.

I consented to protect my brother.

During my two years in prison, they never visited for once.

The prison was hell. I became used to sleeping with one eye open, eating quickly before someone else took my food,and remaining silent regardless of what I saw or heard. Hope? Luxury I couldn’t afford.

Days changed to months. I ceased measuring time as those who are free do. Instead, I measured survival. How many fights I avoided, how many nights I slept without being injured.

Then hope came in a way I had never anticipated. A new commander was appointed as the prison warden and he noticed me.

His name was Hansen Howell.

Initially, I don't know why he noticed me. Perhaps it was due to my lack of troublemaking, or perhaps he recognized my fragility without me needing to express it.

He ensured that everyone understood I was under his protection. Thanks to him, the prison began to seem less harsh.

It stung that he wasn’t around when I got out today. I wished to express my gratitude to him. To convey that his generosity had sustained my life. I vowed to search for him after I readjusted to life.

While I ascended the narrow passage to our home, a sense of anxiety twisted in my stomach. Each step seemed more burdensome than the previous one.

I didn't anticipate that what awaited me would be another form of hell.

“Hello.”

The voice abruptly halted me.

I turned gradually.

Three men stood behind me. I saw the hammers and sticks in their hands before I actually focused on their faces. They were not smiling.

“Who are you folks?” My voice was trembling but I tried to make it sound firm.

The man at the front smiled, looking at me like I was already owned.

“Your uncle owes our gang a lot of money from gambling debts,” he said nonchalantly. “But since he can’t pay that, he gave you to us instead.”

My uncle?

Has he lost his mind?

Despite all that had happened, my uncle still chose to sell me like a commodity on the day I was released from prison.

My chest ached painfully. “What does my uncle’s gambling debt have to do with me?” I demanded to know. “I’m not owing anyone anything, and I just got out of prison.”

The man looked at me and chuckled. “It does concern you because you’re the payment.”

My fear was clear on my face, but my anger was burning even more. I knew I couldn’t just stand there.

“Take him,” he ordered.

The two men moved closer to me.

My instinctive fear kicked in, and I kicked the first man hard between the legs. His scream filled the air as he fell to the ground.

Before the other two men could move, I turned and ran.

My lungs burned as I sprinted,turning through alleys I had known since I was a kid. For a brief instant, I believed I was escaping.

I was wrong.

Four men suddenly appeared in front of me.

I skidded to a stop, my heart beating loudly, and I looked back only to see six more closing in, including the ones I had just escaped from.

I was surrounded.

“Be smart and come with us quietly,” the leader shouted. “Or I won't hesitate to take you forcefully.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you monsters!” I shouted, my voice cracking.

“Take him.”

They moved closer to me. My legs began to shake. There was nowhere else to go. The alley was too confined, and I could feel the walls closing in on me. I could not breathe anymore, and my anxiety was building up quickly.

Just then—

A voice roared.

“HEY! LEAVE HIM!”

A man stepped out of the darkness. He was broad shouldered and his stance was unshakeable.

I had never seen this man before.

“Who the heck are you?” the leader spat. “Do you know who we are? Don’t be a hero unless you want to die.”

The man cracked his neck and grinned.

“Perfect!” he bellowed. “I was bored!”

What happened next did not feel like reality. He moved so fast that I could not keep up. I heard sticks cracking and shouting, and they fell one by one

I could not believe my eyes.

The leader stumbled backward, fear written all over his face. His eyes grew wide, and I think he finally realized who he was dealing with.He muttered something I could not quite catch and ran away.

The others followed, dragging themselves away.

There was silence.

The man turned and began walking towards me.

I took a step back.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, his voice calm and almost gentle.

Before I could say anything, he reached out and grabbed my hand firmly and began walking.

I did not struggle to be released. After all, I needed help getting out of there.

He walked me to my house.

As we reached the door, I managed to find my voice. “I...I don’t know who you are, but thank you. You saved my life.”

The man scoffed.

“Cooley Raymond.”

My heart sank.

He knew my name?

This was not a coincidence?

He walked into the house, and I stumbled back, trying to create some space between me and him.

“You’re thanking me too soon,” he uttered, his voice cold as he looked into my eyes.

Who was he?