badlands // zayn malik

chapter one

→ survival of the richest,
the city's ours until the fall.
they're monaco and hamptons bound,
but we don't feel like outsiders at all.
- new americana, halsey

&&

I. Zayn

I live in the badlands.

Technically, it isn't called the badlands; we live in a city called Ashmont, but the people who live here call it the badlands, and so do I. It's not exactly the best place in the world, as it thrives on commercialism, crime and commerce.

Oh, and it also flourishes on the fact that people use mere sex in exchange for wads of money (and other things that I don't want to go into). I'm not going to lie: I have been pushed into this ring, however, I find other ways to get money. It's a vicious cycle, but that's how life is in the badlands.

Without being born into a rich family or a stable job, it would be difficult for you to survive. I've seen people on the streets, with dull skin literally clinging to their fragile bones, begging for food to satisfy their hunger.

It's dangerous, dark and devious, but I've learnt to call it my home.

I quickly pull the hood of my plain black hoodie over my head, to cover my face and to make sure I was completely hidden from the people hurrying by. If they did notice me, however, at least they wouldn't see my face.

The only downside to living in the badlands was that people were always looking to recruit others to work for their own little entrepreneur endeavours. So, of course, I was employed, but I needed the cash anyway.

My tasks were simple.

Find money. Steal it, break into people's houses for it, even kill people for it. (Luckily I haven't killed anybody so far.)

Then, after obtaining that money, give it to my boss.

His name is Theodore. He's a man in his late fifties and he's filthy rich. Like, he honestly has furniture made out of gold, plus hundreds of hired mistresses 'keeping him young'. Gross, I know, for a guy that old. One of his assistants spotted me while I was scouring the streets late at night and then hired me after a two-hour interview, so that's how I came to work for him.

In exchange for the money that I give him, he pays for my rent, for my groceries, any medical bills, stuff like that. It's not a lot, but it keeps me alive in this society.

If I'm lucky, he'll give back a quarter of the money I give to him. One time I stole 3,600 dollars from an elderly man's bedside table, so Theo gave me 900 bucks upfront. Not a pretty bad deal, if I do say so myself.

So, I needed money.

I needed that money fast.

My deadline was coming up in two days, and I didn't want to slack off, in the fear that I would be sacked. I didn't want to go back into unemployment - I hardly even ate a full meal during the long month that I was unemployed for.

You could probably tell how laborious and treacherous the badlands are by now.

Trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, I stride along the dirty sidewalk of the city, the bursting city life right beneath my fingertips. The graffiti on the concrete walls spelling out derogatory terms and profanity. The filthy litter filling the streets up like mould. The hustle and bustle ever evident, the screams and the gunshots a normal part of everyday life now. It's just how the badlands is. It's just how life is. It's just how people are, too.