End of struggle...? 2

I stared at the list on the screen, the cruel screen.

I had sat for the exam, and passed. I got a letter to prove it. Yet, my name was absent, in the final ranking list. Why? By grades I should be atleast in the top 10...

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Awarded solely on merit," as I read the words below the screen.

Empty words.

The truth crashed down on me – the scholarship was not secured not by merit, but by influence.

The winners' surnames name were easily recognized. It was a son or a relative son of a notorious politician, a daughter of a wealthy businessman, names of people of influence, children of men who swam in wealth.

They didn't need a scholarship. No, they craved that coveted spot, the university's name a stepping stone on their destined path to power.

With the hope of a university scholarship gone. I needed another way to save myself.

Tclimb wouldn't be the one I envisioned amd hoped for, but a different path, a harder one.The only path I had left...

Because was no longer a path to power and wealth by academic achievement, since reality showed how my efforts were a naive attempt at a legitimate future.

University tuition could not be paid for by stolen money or begged change.It required a small fortune.The library also had its limits and the old librarian was going to be replaced. To get a good job you need papers. And I didn't have those.

So with no other way to survive, I was forced to descend into the underworld.

Making alliances with notorious vagabonds. Stealing morphed into a profession, and I slowly gained a name in the streets. I was respected.

But respect in the criminal underworld is worth nothing.

Soon, the requests and jobs morphed into one sided demands. I was being threatened and blackmailed to work for certain bosses.

Somehow started as theft escalated to a drug trade.

I was finally financially secured. Sure I was threatened but I got paidnjust as good. I did things that made me question myself, things I couldn't recklessly share. I was hurt in some missions. Getting shot at, escaping. Couple of nasty encounters with the cops who we paid off just to stay out.

One thing led to another and I had set up my clubs at the age of 25... I was proud of myself and now wanted out of this dangerous life.

The turning point arrived, an order to lace my own clubs, my pubs of music and escape, with the very shit I despised, Drugs. I was ordered to move drugs through my pubs, and people would come to wash the cash and make it 'clean' and legit.

Refusing was not an option.

I wanted a clean business. I argued but this was viewed as disobedience by my oh-so powerful superiors.

The oily hands I'd shaken, the big smiles that were made in charity galas, belonged to very powerful people. People who I was involved with.

They were the unseen puppeteers, pulling the strings of an elaborate con. Poor subpar goods, watered-down medications and alcohol, even their drugs were not quality as somehow they mixed it with floor.

These were the"pillars" of society. Stuffing their pockets while the people they pretended to serve suffered. I just put up with their nonsense but...

The order to lace my clubs, my pride with that shit was the final straw.

I wanted to leave, get out of the game. I've earned enough to survive now I just wanted to leave.

But the underworld offered no escape plan and retirement plans came in the form of body bags sometimes ended with "swimming with the fishes."

I knew too much when accompanying my superiors in their business dealings and charity gallas and parties. Names and faces. I had seen too much. I was a loose end, a liability, they needed me dead.

Now... the tastes of blood filled my mouth. Just moments ago, I had been looking the dance floor of my empty club deep in thought.

Now, two corpses lay at my feet.

The threats and rumours of me wanting out had become a death warrant. And it seems a hefty bounty placed on my head.

Assassins attacked me that night... I was fighting them off... But they were too many.

Then from the shadows a figure materialized.

It was him, the one person I'd allowed myself to trust, a solid friendship formed in the struggles we went through.

We were brothers.

With a roar, he jumped into the fight taking care of the remaining assassins.

Together, we drove them back, killing a few in the process.

Relief washed over me, it was finally over... Well of now. I still needed a plan, they would keep coming one after the other.

Deep in my thoughts I saw a hand, his hand, covered with the blood of our enemies, reached for mine. I took it and he pulled me in for a hug, telling me it's okay.

Then a searing pain suddenly came from my chest.

"Brother,...The offer was too good." He said coldly but with a smile.

My brother, my comrade stabbed me. Betrayed me. Just for a verbal promise of power, I was betrayed.

Fury curdled in my gut after all of tge things I did for him... He does this.

Sigh ...I was naive.Perhaps I had been a fool to believe in escape.

Peace and a quiet life seemed, was a luxury reserved for the victors, for those who had power, it was their shield.

But down here, for people like me. I didn't have that and the little that I had was small in comparison to the bigshot who wanted me dead.

Loyalty was a stupid concept, that can be cashed in at the first offer of something better.

As I was slowly loosing consciousness a thought passed in my head," is the new chapter out yet?"

My vision became blurred and I drew my last breath.