I Think Joining The Mafia was a Mistake...

Why did i do what i do?

(this story is made with the help of AI, However it keeps my intended writing style and i did do work to it. i often lose intrest but have been told i have quite a nice style so Im giving this a try. mind you it prob doesnt work how i wanted but still good fun)

Max had always felt like an outsider in his own family. He resented their wealth and status, their expectations and the pressure they put on him to succeed. He dreamed of leaving it all behind and starting fresh, but he never thought it would come to this.

"I really am a half-ass peice of shit" max thinks to himself after having an ordinary boring life when he could fight anyone and win.

While walking home from school, Max was approached by a man in a sleek suit who introduced himself as Tony. Tony offered him a way out, a chance to be part of something bigger than himself. Max was skeptical at first, but he couldn't resist the allure of a life without rules or restrictions.

Soon enough, Max found himself deep in the ranks of the mafia. He did the dirty work, the hits and the deals, all in the name of loyalty and respect. But as time went on, something began to change inside him. He started to see the world in a different light, to question the morality of his actions and the people he worked for.

It all came to a head one night, when Max was tasked with a mission that he couldn't refuse. He was ordered to kill his own family, to sever all ties and prove his allegiance once and for all. At first, he resisted, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was his chance to start over, to finally escape the shadow of his family and make something of himself.

So, with a heavy heart, Max carried out the deed. He watched as his family fell one by one, the sound of their screams echoing in his ears. And then, in the silence that followed, he realized what he had done. He collapsed to the ground, hyperventilating and shaking, consumed by guilt and regret. 

He slumps down on the floor, his breathing heavy and labored as he clutches his head in his hands. Images of his family flash through his mind, his parents, his siblings, all lying lifeless in pools of their own blood. He feels sick to his stomach, bile rising in his throat as he tries to process what he has done.

The reality of his actions hits him like a ton of bricks, and he can't help but feel disgusted with himself. How could he have let himself be manipulated like this? How could he have been so blind to the truth?

Tears stream down his face as he struggles to come to terms with the enormity of what he has done. He knows he can't stay here for long, the mafia will be after him soon. He needs to leave, to disappear before they find him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts, and stands up shakily. As he makes his way to the door, he glances at his reflection in a nearby mirror. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is streaked with tears and blood. He looks like a madman.

But he can't afford to think about that now. He needs to get out of here, to escape before it's too late.

As he steps out into the street, he can hear the sounds of the city around him, the honking of horns, the chatter of people. It's like a different world from the one he just left.

He walks aimlessly, not knowing where to go, his mind consumed with thoughts of what he has done. He needs to find a way to make it right, to somehow make amends for his actions.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of footsteps behind him. He turns around to see several men in suits, the unmistakable aura of the mafia surrounding them. He knows he can't run from them forever, and he can't let them get away with what they've done.