Life can be tough. But what if your life involved sleeping in the street, getting beaten by heavy rain, and having the cold slap you in the face during winter? What if you had to watch someone get killed in front of you like they were just a tiny fly? That was my reality. I'm Marcus Taylor. At 22 years old, 6.5 feet tall, and with curly hair, I'm that person who grew up on the streets. They told me my father and mother died in an accident on the highway from Chicago. I was just an infant, whom they strapped to the back seat of the car. Of course, I remembered nothing of what happened while I was growing up, so I had no reason to question their deaths. My parents were poor before they died. I needed no one to tell me that. I had no inheritance left to me. And the closest family they could have taken me to rejected me. I mean, who rejects a baby? But that's the definition of the useless uncle that I have. That was the reason the orphanage took me in, and then when I ran off, it was
Suddenly, out of my blank state, my eyelids fluttered slowly. Awareness crept back into my senses. A deep breath escaped my lips, and with each inhale, life returned like the first rays of dawn breaking through the darkness. Finally, my eyes opened, and I blinked at the world's brightness.The weather seemed cold and unforgiving, with a biting wind that cut through layers of clothing like a sharp blade.As soon as I groaned in agony, attempting to sit upright, the first person my eyes peered at was Samantha."We thought you were dead!" she said."Welcome to a new day. Now, get ready for training," she said again."But training? I was barely getting better," I thought. As if the others heard my thoughts, my eyes peered at them, who were right in the right corner adjacent to Samantha in the left corner in the same tent with me. I saw them shrug their shoulders and raise their hands like they were unconcerned about my health."Get up now, Mr. Marcus. Get to training. Your father's enemie
I did not flinch, nor did my feet tremble with fear. Just like before, I knew the gun was empty because I was the one who assembled it, and I did not see where I had inserted the bullets. "Why are you not flinching?” Samantha asked, and with that, I replied, "Because there is no bullet in the weapon in your hand.” I answered, showing perfect confidence on my face. "Oh! Really?" Samantha asked. "How about now?” She said this as she now, indeed, right in front of my eyes, inserted some bullets into the gun and pulled the safety off. "I ask, how about now?" My heart was racing right at this moment; however, I did not show it. For some reason, I knew very well that Samantha was never going to shoot me. I did not respond but continued to breathe heavily, with my face swollen like a frowning child. Either way, it did not mean Samantha was not going to ask another question. "Are you the son of your father?” She asked. However, if I said anything, it would be a lie. A perfect silence ami
How Samantha said, "If I were indeed the son of my father, I would assemble the gun back," made me furrow my brows in deep seriousness as I immediately began to disassemble the gun, noticing each piece I had disassembled and capturing it in my mind as if a camera had snapped it and stored it in a hidden place to be used later.I said nothing at this moment, and certainly, Samantha said nothing to me either. Even so, she stood closer to me and picked up one of the pistols from the sandy patches, then proceeded to load it with bullets.With both hands, she held the pistols in her grip, closed one eye, and aimed at a distant target."Pa! Pa! Pa!"She fired three times, and the sound of the pistol was deafening. However, when I looked to see what Samantha had shot, I realized it was all a ruse.Nevertheless, I said nothing and continued with what I was disassembling and assembling as instructed by Samantha. At this moment, Mr. Harry's voice called my attention."That's some excellent targ
"Is she insane? How could she tell me to pull the trigger on her? Does she want me to kill her all in the name of training?" I thought, and hence, I refused, saying, "I can't."Hearing what I said, Samantha's face grew colder as she said, "In the act of war, it is a game of being the first. When your enemy refuses to shoot, you hit him in the head with a bullet."Now Samantha came closer to me and pointed the gun at her head. She looked at me and said once more, "Now f**king pull the trigger!"At this moment, my legs trembled in great fear, and I could not even fathom what Samantha was thinking."Does she really mean I should kill her?"My hands began to shake simultaneously like leaves in the wind, trembling under the action Samantha had portrayed.Slowly, while I expected Mr. Harry and the others from a distance to see the insanity Samantha had asked me to do, I looked at Mr. Harry and the others, and what they did and said at this moment surprised me."Such a feeble-minded street b
Coming out of the tent, I wore a breathable, lightweight shirt, as it was the only shirt provided in the tent. Then I put on athletic shoes with good support and cushioning. I also wore a light jacket and a head cap that lowered to my forehead.Seeing this, Samantha walked towards me immediately. I could see how she smiled at me and led me towards the sandy patches.As I walked with Samantha, the way she approached me and smiled at me made it clear that my claim of not being nervous was a lie. I turned my head around in search of Ethan, who might emerge from the tent he had entered at any moment.Meanwhile, the others were with Mr. Harry by the crates. They opened each crate, selecting weapons and loading them with bullets.I quickly wondered why they were doing this, considering that Mr. Harry had asked Samantha to train me specifically. Suppressing my question wasn't an option at this point, so I directed it to Samantha."Why are they loading bullets into each gun and strapping them
Before I knew it, we had already arrived at a location different from the bushes Mr. Harry had driven through. This area had tall rocks surrounding it and a small pond of water that seemed to lead nowhere, visible from the car we had yet to step out of.As I gazed around, I noticed in the distance to the right a formation that provided both a sense of containment and a touch of rugged beauty.In this way, the tall rocks acted as protective barriers, enclosing the training area in a secure embrace.Additionally, I observed that the landscape within was a combination of sandy patches and compacted earth, with clear demarcations indicating designated firing zones and pathways.At the center of the training ground, a wide and well-maintained firing range was set up. The range featured a row of target boards at varying distances, allowing participants to practice their marksmanship skills effectively.Upon exiting the car, Mr. Harry and I walked towards the sandy patches. I saw a sturdy wo
In this way, I heard the car tires screech so hard, like a whistle that signaled the end of the world. With this, the fear gripping me was tighter than when any gang leader had grabbed any kid by the neck on the street.Immediately, I heard Mr. Harry's voice again. "Hit the brake, son, and turn the wheel left so the car doesn't flip completely like a tossed coin."As if I understood what Mr. Harry had said at this moment, I did what I thought he said, hitting the pedal beside the accelerator and turning the steering wheel to the left.Suddenly, I saw that the car halted and smoke began to spread from inside the car and, hence, out of the car window."You are such a terrible driver, Mr. Marcus, but thank you for not killing us," Darling said.I began to sweat profusely suddenly, like a racer who did all he could yet came last on the track, as the whole scenario felt as if I had seen death face-to-face, and my heartbeat was heavy like a mythical hammer pounding so greatly inside the mor
Driving a car for the first time was a mix of immense fun and an undeniable risk to life.Every time I turned the wheel, either I had turned it too much, nearly colliding with a car beside me on the road, or I had turned it too little, causing the car to deviate from my intended direction.Throughout this, Mr. Harry continued to chuckle, playfully teasing me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder how he remained so relaxed, akin to a king on his throne, despite being aware of the potential danger. So I inquired,"Mr. Harry, how can you sit so comfortably while you know I'm driving poorly?""You're not driving poorly, son. In fact, for a first-timer, you've done quite well to avoid colliding with other cars or walls. You've performed better than I did during my first drive," Mr. Harry responded, leaving me perplexed as to why he had laughed earlier if he thought I was doing a good job."So why did you laugh, Mr. Harry?"Once more, upon posing t
But how did Mr. Harry expect that I would be able to start the car when all I have done all my life is be on the street and beg for alms to feed me for the day?Did he also not recall that he was the one who, in fact, taught me how to open a car door?"But Mr. Harry, I do not know how I am going to start this vehicle," I said, immediately after I had stared at the steering wheels for a while and could not figure out how to start the car at all.Hence, Mr. Harry said, "Hey darling,"And immediately, the voice from the car answered, "Hey Harry, what can I do for you?""Our friend here, Mr. Marcus, does not know how he is going to start this vehicle. Could you help him figure it out?" Mr. Harry asked at once."Of course, Harry, I can certainly do that," the voice answered, and she immediately continued talking."Hi, Mr. Marcus. If you want to start this vehicle, it is very easy because it is fully automated. So, don't worry about a thing. I will surely be of help until we arrive at our d
Ummi Aida
can't wait for more... good read!
Ummi Aida
chapter 33... the question is....