A full two months had passed since our visit to the shooting range when we got the job.

During this time, some changes had occurred, but most importantly, I had become as much a part of this criminal world as those I worked with.

If my father found out, I couldn't even imagine his reaction, let alone the consequences. So, I did my best to hide the fact that I was working for the crime world he was fighting against. Naturally, I made up a cover story to fall back on if necessary. I told my family I had a girlfriend I was deeply in love with and explained the money, saying I had a job. This helped to excuse my sudden absences from home: either I was needed at work, or my girlfriend's parents were out, and I was helping her clean the house.

The only thing my Dad said to me during this time was, "When you're cleaning the house, make sure you're careful, or you'll end up changing diapers." My Mom just smiled and said she was happy for me.

As for the family situation, we had money, which elevated everyone's mood compared to before. Of course, we were still poor by the country's standards, but at least we could afford all the necessary medicines and procedures to deal with Nataliel's illness.

Or at least keep it at bay for an indefinite period - until I start earning more and can afford stronger medicine to suppress it or even surgery. In this respect, our struggle with impulse reminded me too much of the fight against cancer. But at least Nataliel didn't have attacks anymore, and we felt like we were winning. Besides, Natali kept our secret and continually delighted our parents with her unexpectedly increased salary, which they adored her for.

One day, she said that it was I who should have gotten those words of gratitude, but I just brushed it off. I said it didn't matter who got them; what mattered was what we achieved. Because we knew our father too well - who knows what might pop into his head with his principles. So, it was better not to stir trouble while things were quiet.

The fact that we could put up a fight for our Nataliel instilled in our family hope and tiny, warm happiness, propelling us to keep moving. Even Dad stopped being grumpy, and Mom stopped being sad all the time. Over these two months, I heard the bed creaking in their room through the wall several times at night.

As Nataliel healed, so did our entire family.

As for her, although she was still weak, she looked much better than before. She even gained some weight. Her cheeks regained their rosy color. A lively hue in her character returned. She seemed to have pushed back the impulse a little.

Natali, on the contrary, was discovering more and more of the power of impulse within herself. As she put it, there was no running from an attack if it was meant to happen, so why not make use of what you have? I knew she had been training in it before, but after Nataliel's first attack, she stopped. Now, she has taken it up again.

I was happy for them, happy that everything was going so well.

Until it was my turn to work. Happiness in the family doesn't come for free, and who understands this better than me?

Not that such work was difficult or dangerous; it was paid a little, but still more than my parents' jobs. I just didn't like it. It's not the purpose of my life to talk to people who insert "fuck", "bitch", "hell," or other words related to genitals every other word. And they also try to attack you at every convenient opportunity, as if they want to show off who's the tough one here.

Such things really oppressed me, sometimes scared and irritated me. One thing I definitely realized: this is not for me, and only the understanding of the necessity kept me there.

All this time, I was doing low-skilled work, like placing a stash in one place or another, delivering something to someone without questions, being on the lookout while someone was raiding someone else's warehouse.

Or helping, actually, to break into this warehouse quietly. Arrow had directly asked me to do this several times. So, I had to hit the books and videos again to improve my hacking skills. Thankfully, there were plenty of places with locks where I could train.

In my work, the keywords became "someone" and "something." The less I knew, the safer I was. Not a hundred percent, no one can guarantee that, but it was a fact. Well, at least during that time, I never had to beat something out of someone, participate in shootouts, or arrange an armed robbery.

Although…

Everything here is a bit complicated. There were robberies, and we sometimes raided houses and shops and sometimes stole trucks with goods. When it came to threats, Malu took care of it, clearly explaining what would happen to one character or another. But I was just an accomplice, helping to open, unload, or do something when all the active fuss was handled by Alex and Malu. Syringa mostly drove us and only occasionally participated in such things.

In the end, I just realized: I could convince myself as much as I wanted that I wasn't like that, but the reality was that I was doing this, and I was one of them. This thought sat in me like a splinter. I was sickened by the fact that I had become a thug. And when my whole family cheered up from the state they were in, it seemed to me that I had sunk even lower. Only the joy of seeing others happy made me pick up that phone every time and say: "I'm listening."

If I didn't care what I was doing, then I would have taken this job easier, but that was not the case. I did care. I wanted to be like my father or mother, not like a thug.

No wonder my mood was like a slowly sinking ship, where the influx of water in the hold exceeded the speed of draining out this same water by pumps.

***

The cell phone rang early in the morning, before classes, while I was brushing my teeth with sleepy eyes. It vibrated and played loudly, filling the bathroom with the melody of the Moonlight Sonata.

The first time it rang, it announced a call with the melody of some gangster tune, the general meaning of which was, "I only killed ten, maimed even more, but they imprisoned me for no reason, I escaped, and the bastards chased me like wolves through the forest."

Honestly, I don't understand why people like these songs. I remember someone trying to explain that it was all about the melody, the soulful voice, and so on. But the lyrics? It's one thing to enjoy a song in another language that you don't understand, but here, unfortunately, everything is crystal clear. How could you enjoy a song about a man who killed ten people, maimed even more, and now claims his innocence?

I don't get it. My sister also didn't understand when she first heard it. That time, Natali asked with a frown, "What kind of nightmare is playing on your phone?" I replied that it was a random track. Now, the ringtone perfectly matches my mood when I answer a call.

As Malu told me back then, this phone was always with me, and I always answered it, no matter where I was. Even now, sleepy and in the bathroom with a toothbrush in my teeth.

Apparently, my sister came in due to the ringtone.

"I made breakfast; it's on the table. Just hurry up, or it'll get cold," Natali reminded me, peeking into the bathroom.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Okay, thanks," I nodded and picked up the phone as she closed the door. "Listening."

"Today. Malinova, 37B, at ten, 'Candle,' seventh booth, you'll be picked up as usual," followed by a disconnect tone.

I pulled my old flip phone away from my ear, staring at the screen before continuing to brush my teeth.

Malinova Street... That's closer to the city center, right? Where there are lots of people? What do we have in the center? Various entertainment venues? And if it's a booth, it's probably a café or something like that. So, he wants to discuss something important with me. In the two months I've been with him, I've learned that Malu only gets up early when there's something important.

I guess I'll have to skip school, which is sad because we have a test, but I think I can arrange to take it at a non-school time later. I've always been in good standing with the teachers for being diligent, so there won't be any problems.

But these calm, measured thoughts didn't help to quiet my heart, which was now beating too fast in my chest. Something happened or is going to happen. Possibly something important, and since Malu wants to see me, I'm going to be involved. Otherwise, he wouldn't have called so early.

Being involved in such matters is risky. And sometimes you have to shoot in these situations. So far, I've been spared, only playing a minor role, far off to the side or running errands, but... I'm scared. Scared again.

Every phone call caused anxiety inside me. This time, it induced fear.

In the kitchen, half-naked Nataliel was already waiting for me, dressed only in a bra and panties. Thin as always but no longer pale, she was now devouring her breakfast and squinting at mine with hungry eyes. Her outfit didn't bother me in the slightest, firstly because it was not transparent; secondly, I walked around in my underwear - it's a family thing; and thirdly, she's my sister, and I don't get turned on by my sisters.

But Mom didn't like such behavior. She tirelessly scolded Natali and Nataliel for lounging around in their underwear. To which they immediately responded that Dad and I also walked around in our underwear, and it wasn't a problem.

"Good morning, bro."

"Morning, Nataliel," I yawned. "Did our parents leave already?"

"About an hour ago. They left early today."

Funny, Natali and Nataliel used to be so similar that even I would mix them up. Their personalities, habits, absolutely everything. They were simply reflections of each other. But now, they were unmistakable. All it took was a look at one of them.

"You can have my breakfast," I gave a weak smile, and before she could protest, I continued. "It's a friend's birthday today, so I won't be eating. I'll eat at the party."

"You'd better eat at home," she sighed.

"So I can ruin my appetite? No, I'd rather bankrupt my friend."

"Poor friend," she smiled and slowly reached for my serving.

I just can't swallow a bite after such news. I won't even be able to force anything down; my stomach is churning from anxiety, and it will surely throw everything up.

And my heart bleeds when I see her so hungry. So it's all good; I haven't seen my dick in a long time without lifting my belly. I can starve a little. Besides, let her eat more - her thinness brings tears to my eyes. My sisters have always been slender, unlike me, with my regular size. But the impulse left its mark on Nataliel.

"Are you sure you won't eat?"

"Sure. Eat already. And where's Natali, by the way?"

"In our room."

Our little house had six rooms if you count all the spaces: a very small one for our parents, it barely fit a bed; one for me, where a table and bed could fit; the biggest one for the sisters; a living room; a tiny kitchen; a bathroom. It may seem like many rooms, but they were minimal. Our little house itself was also small and belonged to the most budget-friendly type you might find in some American ghetto.

"By the way, bro, you've been... different lately," Nataliel informed me about the changes, devouring my serving while drilling into me with her gaze. "Did something happen?"

"No, why?" I made a surprised face.

"You come home late. You often disappear and seem lost in thought, as if you're floating in the clouds. You've become a bit... restless, jittery. Even now, you're on edge."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I have a test today, maybe that's why I'm nervous. And I come home late because of work."

"You're always nervous."

"No."

"Yes."

"What's going on, Nataliel? Tell me straight," I sighed. This could go on too long, this game of questions.

"Something's happening. I feel it, Natali feels it. I know you're involved in something, and I know it's because of me. For me. I won't try to stop you because I understand the reasons and would do the same if necessary. It's pointless."

"It's pointless," I nodded.

"But you can talk to me. You can express everything that's on your mind. And if you need help, we'll most likely find a solution."

Yeah, 'Sister, I'm pushing drugs, robbing people, participating in thefts, break-ins, and carjacking. Listen, help me.'

First, I can't imagine how she can help me. Second, even if I spill it all out, will anything change? No, with time, I'll feel worse again, and she'll just feel worse from realizing the nature of my activities and feeling of guilt. She's not a fool, she understands what I'm involved into, but doesn't know exactly what. Let it stay that way.

"Then I'll take you up on your offer when I need it if you don't mind. Stock up on handkerchiefs," I winked at her, and Nataliel smiled.

But we are brother and sister; we know each other well - Nataliel knows that I won't do that. And I know that she knows, and she knows it too.

"Alright, I'll go get ready then," I sighed. "Eat your food, or you'll be all skin and bones."

"It's all my metabolism. Envy in silence, because I can eat as much as I want, unlike you."

"And I'm not cold in the winter!" I slapped my belly, sending waves through it, and made her laugh.

I love it when my sisters laugh. There's always something genuinely endearing in their voices.

Even though I didn't have to go to school today, I still grabbed my briefcase for my cover story. I took everything out of it so I could carry it lightly. And you never know, it might come in handy. While I was getting ready and dressing, Natali shuffled over to me. No chance to slip away without meeting her, huh?

"Aren't you late?" she peered into my room.

"Only a little bit. Will you lock up after me?"

"What about your keys?"

"Got gym today, don't want them to get stolen," I lied calmly. I didn't want any of my employers to get them accidentally.

"You have gym every day. You always leave them behind."

"I can show you my schedule," I replied calmly.

Their nagging didn't bother me, only maybe a little and more in a kind way. In the end, they worry about me. Family, they're practically the only people in the world I'm ready to trust. There's one more person like that, but this is my family - I feel an unequivocal and absolute reliability in them.

"You have an excuse for everything," she grimaced. "You'll end up in trouble, baby."

"We all end up in trouble someday," I shrugged and left the room, pecking her on the cheek on my way out.

Natali still didn't know anything about my other life. She only knew it was illegal, but no more. And I didn't think it was right to let her in on it. She couldn't help in any way, she would have just worn herself out with worries, that's all. So what was the point?

"Alright. Nataliel, bye!" I yelled to my other sister in the kitchen.

"Bye!" came back to me.

"Are you working today, by the way?" I asked Natali.

"No, I have a day off today. Will you be home late again?"

"We'll see," I shrugged, kissed her on the cheek one more time - our tradition, you can never have too many cheek kisses - and left. "See you later."

"You won't," she grinned, stuck out her tongue, and shut the door.

It was November 9th now. Two months of working for kind and caring people with guns.

It was already cold outside, so I had to dress considerably warmer. The temperature hadn't hit zero yet but hovered around three to five degrees, not hurrying either to drop or rise. I could tell because the puddles hadn't frozen over yet.

"You'll be picked up as usual" meant that I had to walk to the end of our street, from where my home wasn’t visible and where Syringa usually dropped me off. It was far enough from my house, so I didn't have to worry about any of the neighbors accidentally or intentionally seeing who was driving me there.

That's where I saw her. At the same old hatchback that was pathetically rattling by the sidewalk. Syringa, leaning her hips on the front wing, stood smoking.

A nasty little dog started barking at her, squealing unpleasantly, and without hesitation, Syringa threw her cigarette butt at it. She calmly took out a pack, lit another one. Some old woman immediately reacted to this.

"Hey! What are you doing!?" This was probably the most overused phrase and the most frequently heard from all elderly people. "Get out of here immediately! Standing, smoking here! Throwing cigarette butts at animals."

"Spot on, oldie, I only throw them at animals," and immediately tossed the cigarette, but at the old woman this time. "Get out of here, old hag, before I smash your remaining teeth into the asphalt."

I had nothing against old people, but I fundamentally disagreed with the axiom that elders should be respected unconditionally. Nobody will respect a homeless person, even if they're over a hundred years old. They're homeless, nobody knows them, and no one cares about age difference. So why should I respect elders just for their age if they are dumber than me? Or tolerate their foul words if I see them for the first time and they are nobody to me?

So, watching this little scene with the granny, I felt nothing but satisfaction. My mood went up a few notches.