It was a rainy night in the city of Hellenz. The bar was sparsely populated, but the hum of conversations created the illusion of a full, cozy atmosphere. The bartender served those looking to drown their sorrows when a man in a white shirt, sweatpants, and black sneakers walked in. He approached the bartender, who was finishing cleaning a beer mug.
"Good evening, friend," said the bartender.
"Good evening. It's kind of empty in here," remarked the man.
"I think it's acceptable, given what's been happening around here."
"Hmmm. Well, Daniel asked me to deliver your share," said the man, handing over a small envelope.
The bartender took it and opened it, revealing its contents—some $100 bills.
"It's good to know that at least you guys honor your promises," the bartender said while counting the money.
"Hmpf. Look, I have to go. You know, get him ready for tomorrow."
"I eagerly hope he wins again. Money like this is always welcome," said the bartender provocatively.
"You know this will stop at some point, right?" the man questioned.
The bartender responded with only a slight smile, causing the man to roll his eyes.
"This old man knows how the world works," he thought.
The man headed towards the exit, having completed what he came to do. Some people stared and recognized him. However, he didn't notice he was being observed until a drunkard appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
"Can I help you with something?" the man asked curiously.
"Are you that guy, Carlos?" said the clearly intoxicated and odorous man.
"Yes, that's me," replied the man now identified as Carlos.
After confirming his identity, the drunk man clearly became irritated.
"You made me lose a lot of money, you know?" he said angrily.
"I'm almost certain that bets are made by the people watching, not by the event organizers."
"But if it weren't for you and that skinny guy, I would have won over $2,000!" he said, attempting to intimidate without success.
Carlos sighed. It's clear he won't convince this guy that he himself caused the loss of that money.
The drunk man shoved Carlos, making him lose balance. Fallen on the ground, the drunk man felt victorious.
"You better have..." he stopped to think of a number. "...$5,000 to give me right now, or me and my buddies over there will break some of your ribs!" He snapped his fingers, implying he might actually break Carlos's ribs.
Carlos, however, looked to the side and saw a chair. Without hesitation, he kicked the chair, sending it flying toward the man and hitting him in the groin.
Carlos quickly got up, grabbed a beer bottle, and struck his opponent's neck with full force, rendering him unconscious and leaving Carlos with a broken bottle in hand.
The "buddies" of the drunk man were shocked by what happened. It didn't make sense to them that only two blows were enough to knock someone out.
"Anyone else?" Carlos said, pointing the broken bottle at those who were watching.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
No one bothered to stand up, speak, or even look at Carlos. Which was good. He dropped the bottle and continued towards the exit.
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It was still raining. The damp, chilly breeze confirmed it before Carlos even opened the door. He rushed to his car, opened the door, and sat down as quickly as he could. It was too cold, and getting soaked wasn't his idea.
Carlos drove down the road, which was now starting to pool with water. He wasn't in a hurry. He turned on the radio and listened to a famous pop songperfect for the time and situation. In his opinion, though, all songs were good for any situation. He was surprised the station finally played a decent song, so he felt quite happy.
The suburbs and buildings made it easy for him to navigate. He arrived at his decent, well-painted house. It was close to everything he needed, and it didn't take more than 5 minutes to reach anywhere. Maybe that's why it was so expensive to buy at the time.
He parked the car, and upon getting out, shivered. He wasn't used to the damp weather or the cold brought by the rain. He ignored it and entered his house. Opening the front door, he saw his mailbox filled with mail. He picked up some and examined them—various loan offers, political ads, or supermarket flyers. Some documents related to bills or payments, which were what concerned him the most.
He took what was important, and the rest went straight to the trash.
Entering, he encountered a Black man lying on his couch with short, messy, unwashed hair. He wore a black tank top, shorts with several chlorine stains, and well-worn flip-flops. Besides being smelly, having slept poorly, and reeking of cheap booze, he was bleeding in some parts of his body.
"You should really take care of those wounds, Daniel," suggested Carlos.
There was no response, just grunts from someone who had just gone to sleep.
"At least take a shower before lying on the couch. You already stink normally, imagine without a bath," he started laughing as he finished the sentence.
"Go to hell."
Daniel complied with the request, albeit reluctantly. Carlos began to organize the room that looked like it came from a cheap motel. There were things that were disgusting enough to be cataloged as radioactive.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm being his butler." That's what Carlos thought at the time.
After cleaning the room, he went to the kitchen to prepare a quick snack. He opened a jar of "Grandma's" Butter Cookies and a bottle of very weak wine. He put what he considered "food" in two bowls, one for him and one for Daniel.
Daniel came out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist.
"What the hell is this?" Daniel said, pointing to the snacks.
"It's what I can afford." Carlos threw the bills on the table, creating a domino effect that reached Daniel's cookie jar.
"But there's not even a little bread? Does it have to be these cheap cookies?"
"Well, if SOMEONE hadn't told me to deliver the money to Terris, we could have afforded even a steak." Carlos said in a sarcastic tone.
"Sorry, but I was expecting something better than 'cookies.'"
"Go put on your clothes. We have work tomorrow."
"You mean that I have work, right, Carlos?"
Carlos frowned, trying to understand what he said.
Both ate and discussed normal everyday things. Football, politics, newspaper, and neighborhood gossip. Carlos with his somewhat muscular physique and Daniel, skinny but strong, discussed their next opponent.
Carlos had the idea of organizing illegal fights with Terris, the bar owner. Terris was a 58-year-old retired man, but he ran a bar to stay busy. Terris was English but came to the city in search of isolation. Little did he know he ended up in a more bustling place than at home.
Carlos interrupted the chat to talk about what mattered.
"So, we have 3 options. The German who only lost 1 fight in this play. The Puerto Rican who won 5 times in a row by knockout. And the idiot from Telemarketing."
Daniel let out a laugh.
"Who's this Telemarketing guy?" taking a sip of wine.
"He'll make his debut if you take this fight." Carlos explained.
"Easy money then."
"Are you sure? What if he beats you?" Carlos said, spitting out some cookie crumbs.
"I have a record of 6 wins, 0 losses, and 1 draw. The perfect score in the city of Hellenz. Trust me."
Carlos didn't share Daniel's enthusiasm. But then again, he knew his stubborn friend wouldn't back down from his goals.
"I wish I had half your confidence," Carlos said, looking at the ceiling.
"I'm going to sleep then."
"Good night."
"Hn."
Daniel grabbed his wine bottle and lay down on the couch, getting as comfortable as he could. He fell asleep 10 minutes later.
Carlos cleaned up the mess he made to prepare the snack. He remembered he had to go somewhere. Somewhere he never liked going.
He grabbed his keys and headed straight for the road. No traffic, after all, 5 minutes to anywhere. He parked in the covered area, put on a mask, and headed to the place.
A hospital.
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The attendant at the place recognized Carlos from afar. She only said he could visit, but just for 5 minutes because visiting hours had long ended.
Room 1301.
Every time he looks at the door, he trembles. Thinking of the worst or that he didn't arrive in time. He bit his tongue to summon courage. Or to exchange fear for pain.
He opened the door.
There she was. The same as yesterday, and before, and the day before. The doctor in the room, adjusting the saline solution, greeted Carlos, who didn't pay attention to the doctor. He was too focused on who was lying down to be distracted by anything else.
The doctor himself didn't say anything. The look in Carlos's eyes explained everything. He took the initiative to leave the room and wait until Carlos was gone.
Carlos glanced around the room before facing her. The same lifeless white walls, the same cracks that would make an inspector's pen tremble, the same annoying beeps from the cardio-graphic machine...
He looked at his sister.
Her round face with defined cheekbones. Her blonde hair that seemed like a sunrise. Her soft hands were always moisturized, which were not soft anymore, as she no longer used lotion due to her obvious condition.
Debts, the house, his sister... He was on the verge of depression. The only thing that kept him going was seeing her. But still, he couldn't see her green eyes. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of a solution, blaming himself for what had happened. But nothing changed. He wasn't punished. Even though he knew he wasn't to blame. A solution didn't come. Even though he knew he didn't cause the problem.
Nothing.
He sighed in his frustration.
After 5 minutes, the doctor asked him to leave. Which he did. He didn't say a single word until he left the hospital. When he got into the car, he screamed. He screamed so much that his throat hurt. It hurts even to breathe. He punched the steering wheel and the car's dashboard a lot. His fingers were bleeding. He drove calmly back home.
Nothing was going right. Why even try?
"I won't give up," he thought.
There was no room for giving up now that he had come so far. He had to continue; he had no way back.
Carlos lay down on the bed and slept.
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AN: Great! This was my attempt to write something here. I had written this prologue in 2020, but only now decided to put it somewhere. Well, aside from Wattpad (and in Portuguese).
I'll be available for questions, so if you have anything to say or doubts you want to clear up, I'm here to respond.
Honestly, I hope the spell checker helped me because I really don't want to review more than 1800 words just to correct the text production.
Until the next chapter!
Post AN: This is the crude version of Wattpad when I just started writing. I promise it will get better. Thank you in advance for your patience.