[10] Unlikely hero

The weight of my earlier decision weighed heavily on my conscience, like a lump of lead in my chest. Every shadow in the alleyway whispered reminders of the old man's despairing face.

I am sorry! I just couldn't!…

My self-condemnation was interrupted by a muffled cry that sent a shiver up my spine. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Drawn by a mix of curiosity and guilt, I tiptoed towards an abandoned storefront with shattered glass windows, from which the cries grew louder.

Peering through a crack in the boarded-up window, the sight that met my eyes made my blood run cold. Five men in red jumpsuits were closing in on a terrified woman clad in blue jumpsuit. Her back was against a wall, and her eyes darted wildly, looking for an escape. One of the men, the tallest among them with a scar running across his cheek, reached out, his intentions clear as he attempted to tear at her clothes.

Without thinking, a loud yell erupted from my throat. "Hey! Leave her alone!"

All heads turned sharply in my direction. Their eyes, cold and emotionless, sent a shiver down my spine. But, for that fleeting second, their grip on the woman loosened. Seizing the opportunity, the woman stomped hard on the foot of the man closest to her. He let out a scream, the sound echoing sharply against the walls of the store. Using this moment of distraction, she lunged for a side door, disappearing from their line of sight.

The men's attention, now filled with fury, shifted to me. Their faces twisted with anger, eyes narrowing like predatory animals spotting their next prey. Panicking, I took a few steps backward, trying to buy time, and maybe find an escape route. But in my haste, I turned and my foot caught on a stray piece of metal, and I tumbled forward, the cold ground bit into my face, tiny shards of glass embedding into my skin. The taste of dirt and blood mingled in my mouth.

The next thing I know, blood filled my mouth as the cruel kick of another landed squarely on my face, sending sharp pain reverberating throughout my skull. The bitter taste of grime mixed with blood was nauseating, and my vision momentarily blurred. A heavy boot pressed down on my cheek, grinding my face against the cold, rough pavement. The pressure increased, making breathing difficult, as if a vice was clamping down on my skull.

"Why did you have to interfere, you lil mofo?" hissed the man standing above me, the one with the scar, venom dripping from his words.

"You think you're some kind of hero?" another one sneered, bending down so his face was mere inches from mine. His foul breath assaulted my senses. "We were just having a bit of fun before this game takes us all."

My heart raced, thudding loudly in my ears, drowning out their jeers. Desperation and terror filled every fiber of my being. "I... I just couldn't stand by," I managed to choke out, each word coming out more as a whimper.

The third man, wiry and wiry with wild eyes, laughed, a sound that was more of a cackle. "Look at this mofo! Thinks he's the righteous one in this hellhole. We all got snatched up into this mad game. Why act like a saint now?"

The boot on my face shifted, making me cough. "I'm thinking we teach this one a lesson. No one ruins our fun and gets away with it," the fourth man, stout and heavily built, declared.

I could feel tears forming, not from pain but from the sheer helplessness of the situation. Every muscle screamed at me to fight, to flee, but the odds were stacked against me. All I could do was hope for a miracle or a way out.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible, pleading in my eyes, "Just let me go."

For a moment, there was silence, except for the distant sounds of the game playing out. The men exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

"Let you go? Are you fking drunk? This is death game!" One of them burst out in a cruel laughter. "Bros, lets fk him up!"

Every punch, every kick, felt like a ton of bricks crashing into my already bruised body. My attempts to shield myself, my arms flung over my head, did little to blunt the force of their relentless assault. I could feel each new contusion forming, the sharp sting of skin splitting, and the wet warmth of blood trickling down my face, neck, and arms.

The hoots and jeers of the men surrounded me, a twisted cacophony that seemed to amplify my pain tenfold. The world seemed to oscillate between blinding white pain and pitch black as blows rained down on me from every direction.

Just when I thought I might pass out from the sheer agony, strong arms yanked me to my feet. My legs were rubbery, refusing to support my weight. The men's laughter was even more derisive now, enjoying the spectacle of my vulnerability.

Dragging me like a rag doll, they pulled me back towards the abandoned store. My heels scraped against the ground, leaving a smeary trail of blood and dirt in their wake. I tried to resist, but my body felt so weak and distant, as if I was floating outside of myself, watching this macabre scene unfold from afar.

The rusty store gate groaned in protest as they pushed it open, the grimy windows filtering the harsh sunlight into a dim, sickly hue. Inside, the stale air was thick with the scent of decay and dust. They unceremoniously tossed me onto the cracked tile floor, my body protesting every new injury it received.

One of the men loomed over me with a cruel smile printed on his face:

"You lil fker ruined our previous fun, now we're going to have some real fun with you." 

Q: What do you think will happen next?