Evelyn was an amusing girl, hanging out with friends and living her best life with the man she deeply loved. But suddenly found herself in a hospital room, realizing she's been in an induced coma for her past six months.
Her sense of disability lea...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
...
Since Mikhail lost his only hope, he had already gone wretched and lunatic.
He couldn't eat or drink. He couldn't find a home to make him feel safe and at ease. He didn't know what he was doing. He was deprived, lonely and homeless.
He spent more than a month sleeping in the streets, bus stations, under freeway bridges and abandoned buildings.
He suffered from eating disorder. Starving himself just to not ask for help from anyone. He wanted to convince himself that he was strong, and didn't need anyone's pity.
But that didn't stop him from stealing some fruits from the groceries once every week.
At first he sucked at it, but by practice he begun to get used to stealing easily. He had to.
He only was able to steal fruits, vegetables and bread. And he'd get beaten up every time the merchants notice him.
Though every time he tried to find a job, people would end up mocking him and calling him a homeless garbage, and an untrustworthy child.
Nobody seemed to accept the way he was, not even himself. He hated himself more than anything. More than his mother and his father. More than all the people who underestimated him.
He always questioned his existence. Why was he alive and what use was it for him to keep fighting? It was worthless.
Everyday passed he'd remember the way his first love's body was crashed to the ground, while he was unable to move or do anything that could've helped her.
That memory never seemed to escape his vision. He felt guilty for it. He was convinced he was the reason she died. He killed her.
By losing her, he lost all the faith in the world. He lost himself.
...
One day he was sleeping in front of a barbershop. It was a balmy morning with fresh air breeze. The sun almost caused his skin to burn.
A bald man named Don who had three body guards around him noticed Mikhail weakly sleeping as he ordered them to wake him by beating him up.
The man was in his forties, in a beige suit, not very tall, with a scare on his left eyebrow, dark eye bags and a ruthless expression on his face. He always held a cigar between his huge fingers.
