OVERNIGHT

Southside chicago

As Deuce sprinted away from Walmart, the adrenaline ran through his veins like fire. The sounds of sirens in the distance faded behind him, a reminder of how close they had come to getting caught. He glanced over at J-Roc, who was just as hyped, clutching the precious game, 2K26, to his chest like a trophy.

"Yo, I can't believe we actually pulled that off!" J-Roc laughed, breathless, a wide grin painted across his face. But as they reached a corner, J-Roc's expression shifted. "I gotta split, man. Mom's gonna flip if I'm late."

"Alright, bro. You got the game right?" Deuce asked, still excited from their heist.

"Yeah, I got it. Just be careful, bro?" J-Roc replied, his voice serious now. The two exchanged fist bumps before parting ways. Deuce watched as J-Roc disappeared down the alley, a silhouette against the dimming streetlights of the South Side.

Deuce felt the weight of the game in his backpack—a small victory amid a life filled with struggles. He turned onto the familiar streets of his neighborhood, where the  sounds of life filled the air. Kids played basketball on the corner, their laughter echoing against the brick walls of the rundown projects. But for Deuce, the laughter felt distant, like a dream he could never quite grasp.

Growing up in Chicago's South Side wasn't a fairy tale. Deuce had learned that early on. With no father in the picture, he had become use to the emptiness that lingered around him. His mom was rarely home, always working late shifts to make ends meet. She wasn't a bad mom; she just had to be strong in a world that didn't offer them many options. Deuce had learned to fend for himself, both in the kitchen and on the streets.

As he walked past the familiar corner store, memories flooded back. He had spent countless nights there, grabbing snacks with whatever change he could gather up. More often than not, he'd be alone, watching the older kids hang out, feeling like an outsider in his own skin. He was just a kid trying to make sense of a world that seemed determined to push him down.

Deuce remembered the times he'd come home to an empty apartment, the silence wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. He'd learned to cook simple meals, mastering ramen noodles and grilled cheese sandwiches before he could even spell 'independence.' His mom would call occasionally, her voice strained but loving, reminding him to take care of himself. But her words felt like echoes in a cavern, fading before they could settle in his heart.

He reached the steps of his building, the paint peeling and the door creaking as he pushed it open. Inside, the air was stale, and the flickering lights cast scary shadows along the wall. He dropped the backpack on the floor, feeling the weight of the world lift slightly. Tonight would be different; tonight was about victory.

As he pulled the game from the bag, a sense of accomplishment washed over him. It was more than just a video game; it was a token of rebellion, a reminder that he could seize moments in a life that often felt out of control. He thought about playing with J-Roc, the laughter and competition that would fill the room. In a way, it made the struggles fade, if only for a little while.

But as he settled down, the reality of his situation came crashing back. He was still a kid in a harsh world, navigating through obstacles that felt insurmountable. Deuce knew he had to keep pushing forward, keep dreaming of a life beyond these streets—where he wouldn't have to steal to feel alive and where he could truly belong.

With a deep breath, he turned on the console, the screen lighting up the dark room. Tonight, he would escape into a world where anything was possible, even if it was just for a few hours.