*3 Hours Earlier*

"Are all the drugs in the car?" Shotora whispered.

I nodded, wiping the sweat that covered my forehead. Shotora slammed the car twice, indicating that I could deliver the drugs to the drop-off. I turned the engine to life and backed out of the garage. Small, appalling houses lined the streets and gangs hid in the shadows. In the distance, I could hear the muffled screams of a drunkard and the sirens of police cars. I attempted to calm myself, but the terror and uneasiness would not subside. 

Why am I doing this?  Is it worth it? I COULD DIE? If the police find out that I have drugs hidden in the trunk of my car, then I'm dead meat.  

I turned onto a highway and carefully winded around a slow, cargo truck. As I passed the truck, something caught my eye. A small boy lay on the side of the road, weeping from his injured knee. Blood dripped down his leg, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"IT HURTS," He wistfully screamed,"IT REALLY HURTS!"

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IT HURTS," I yelled, "It REALLY HURTS!"

He hysterically laughed and kicked me against the wall. The stench of death permeated the air. He snatched my arm and raised a rusty, bloody knife.

"I'm going to do it again," he giggled, "Your new daddy is going to do it again!"

Paralyzing fear engulfed me as he plunged the knife into my arm. I felt my blood vessels pop and the pain explode throughout my body. 

"It will heal... and then I'm going to stab you again, okay?" He grinned, "OKAY?"