Knife on His Lap

ie Iv

to contend with a troubled teenager in my house, but also a group of brats. I strode back to the groaning boys, many of them crying out in pain, others struck with fear. I took

't finished. "Sorry, correction-I'll let one of you live. I'll give you ten minutes; at the count of five, you'll fight amongst yourselves, and the last man standing goes home unharmed. Simpl

betrayal that unfolded before me, proving once again the inherently selfish nature of humans, always striving to better their own lives. As the fight ensued, I kept

, I nonchalantly pushed my hands deep into my pockets. In the shadows of the crates, I noticed a trembling figure. Amused,

roken by sobs as he continued, "But they-" he pointed at the

." With a blank stare, he kept looking at me and then at my hand extending my knife to him. Raising a brow, I slowly started taking back my offered knife, only for his hands to clasp mine, taking the weapon, and dashing in a mad rage to finish off his "companions." It took some t

er brighten his eyes, I snatched the bloodied knife away from him and carefully sealed it in a zip lock bag. "But now remember, if you get

to. After a few rings, the first person answered, "Hello, Doctor Jeon. I apologize for the late hours, but i

ent. "Hello, Cleaner. You know the alleys near Lot 75, yes? Those need some thorough clean

gh with her, especially considering what she had gone through, but somehow she frustrated me. Slowly, I removed the tangle of hair that obscured her throat and rested my fingers against her veins to check her pulse. "A

iya

d suffering. My senses heightened, reaching for the stars, as my fingertips discerned the plush yet firm leather beneath them. His aroma, against which I was pressed just minutes

etaker, overseeing both my finances and well-being until I reached legal adulthood or until my actual guardian, my father, made an appearance. Absurdity clouded my thoughts when I first perused my father's letter, dismissing it as another of his escapades where he would vanish for a few days only to resurface, intoxicat

ride as he spoke of this boy. To me, Alexie was more than just a name; he was an unseen face, a source of jealousy. From the perspective of a ten-year-old, it w

that day, but as he began praising someone else in his speech that night, tears welled in my eyes. I lost all confidence; I no longer wanted him to be my father. That night, he had a flight to London, and the only comf

way towards the car. A simple thought fluttered in my mind, "If this man could impress the great Dr. Patel, maybe

if I were a piece of jelly suspended high in the sky yet s

le to me, expressed the sharp flares of dis

oth familiar and

ence right next to me, I pulled it towards me, enveloping myself in its embrace. It felt reminiscent of my mother's hug, the

urrounded me as the voice whispered against my ears