I ran. Everything had gone disastrously wrong. It was supposed to be a simple job, an escape. Earlier that day, I got a call from Jenson, a man I trusted like a brother. We'd even served time together for years. Jenson said there was a job happening at the warehouse his uncle owned. Finally, after a lifetime of mistakes, I saw a chance to fix things. It’s amazing what five years in jail does to your mind. Before that, I embodied the street thug. No parents, forced into a children’s home. Children’s homes sound much nicer than they are. Apparently, putting neglected, volatile kids together isn’t wise. Who could have guessed? But those are excuses—the truth is, I was na?ve and easily swayed. When some guys promised fast cash and a sense of belonging, my foolish self dove right in.

  Those poor choices led to my current crisis: sprinting through a deserted construction site, pursued by thugs and my so-called friend. I was desperate for money, so I agreed to see my old friend. When he arrived in a black car with tinted windows, I didn’t question it. Soon after, red flags started to appear. Jenson was uncharacteristically silent on the drive. When I asked what was wrong, he muttered about a fight with his girlfriend and about not sleeping. Gullible, I swallowed his excuse—until we entered the abandoned building site and I saw three familiar cars and a dozen men with weapons—chains, metal poles. I did the only thing I could.

  I punched Jenson square in the nose, dove out of the car, and ran as far as I could. That’s how I ended up sprinting through the construction site with thirteen furious men chasing me.

  “Rak, you coward, why are you running?” A voice shouted from behind. I didn’t stop. What a stupid question, I thought as I dove into one of the partially constructed buildings. I ran through the building and dove out of a window, glad that there was no glass, as I rolled onto some gravel, feeling the sharp stones embed themselves in my back.

  I looked around, needing somewhere to hide. I could hear the men entering the building, searching for me, and it was only a matter of time until they spotted me. I spotted a car driving past in the distance. That had to be a main road if I could only get there.

  I sprinted that way, barely five meters out, before I heard them shout behind me. They’d spotted me. I pushed harder, aiming for the main road. Then something zipped past my head. It landed a few meters ahead—a brick. They were hurling bricks at me! I suppressed the pain screaming in my legs and chest as I forced them further. I zigzagged among half-built structures, but the bricks kept coming. How were they throwing them so far? At least their aim was off. Until something heavy smashed into my leg.

  I heard a crack and collapsed as pain erupted in my leg. I tried to push myself up, grabbing for support, but my leg buckled and I hit the dirt again.

  “Ah Shit!” I said as I hauled myself back to my feet, or more like feet. I tried to hobble away, knowing full well that my chance of escape was over. A few seconds later, I found myself surrounded by thirteen men. Jenson was looking down at me with a bloody nose.

  “Rakim Rakim Rakim,” a voice said, as a young man with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes crouched next to me. “You like running, eh?”

  I strained my neck to look at my assailant. “Fuck you, Sam!” I hissed. “You’re a little pussy who had to get his whole crew to take on one guy, bloody coward.”

  Sam cocked his head and smiled down at me. “You know this is your own fault,” he said before viciously kicking me in the ribs.

  “Listen, you work for me. What made you think I’d let you just move away?” Sam said, his voice laced with venom. “I own you! You little shit. I've owned you ever since I took your sorry arse off the streets and fed you and clothed you. But since you want to leave, I’ll show you there’s only one way out of this business. Keith, Ralph, pick him up!”

  I watched the blond man leave. Two of Sam’s masked enforcers seized me and yanked me up. I tried to fight back but was met with a harsh kick to my injured leg, nearly making me black out. They dragged me into a half-constructed building and tossed me onto the ground. That’s when the beating started. I curled tightly, absorbing the blows. I felt bones snap, agony flooding my body. I fought to stay conscious, fixing my gaze on Sam standing there, chain-smoking, eyes dead.

  After what seemed like hours, the attackers stopped, leaving me sprawled in a pool of blood. I could barely move; blood’s metallic taste filled my mouth. My vision faded at the edges, and I wanted to slip into oblivion, but I resisted. I’d worked so hard to change. I wanted a job, a new life, maybe love. Just normalcy. Rage built inside me, and I clung to it. I knew escape was impossible, but reason was gone.

  Sam approached, looking smug. He bent down and whispered something to his goon, Keith, but I couldn’t make out the words with my ears ringing and blood trickling down my neck. I tried to move my limbs, but all I managed was to squirm weakly on the floor. The humiliation stung—if I was going to die, I at least wanted to take some of them down with me.

  I kept my eyes on Sam and saw him take something from Kieth. Even in my state, I recognised it. The fucker had a knife!

  “Rak, you know things didn’t have to be this way,” Sam said, puffing his cigarette. “You were a good worker, you did as you were told and never asked questions. It breaks my heart that it’s come to this. It really does.”

  Sam pulled the knife back and was about to bring it down into my eye when everything went weird. A piercing sound, like an air-raid siren, boomed through the room. I felt my already damaged eardrums completely give out. I watched as Sam toppled back, clutching his bleeding ears. I couldn’t help but feel satisfied as I watched him and his goons fall on their arses. I wished I could have heard their screams.

  My thoughts were interrupted when a bright pink text box appeared in front of me. It was the strangest thing; I knew it wasn’t tangible, just something I could see with my eyes. I didn’t know how I knew this, but there was this strange understanding working through my brain. After a couple of seconds, the illegible text on the screen started to make sense.

  Dearest mortal thingies,

  I am commandeering your universe. I need it for godly stuff. I was going just to kill you all and take it, but I’ve been informed that it is against the rules. So here’s the good news: I am allowed to make some minor changes to your universe so long as I offer 70% of you a chance at survival. To that end, I have created a lovely little tutorial for you all to participate in. Once this message ends, I will open up a series of portals near all of you for one minute. Those brave enough to participate in the tutorial may enter. You will have the chance to learn new skills and grow stronger. Those unfortunate enough to remain, my condolences, you will probably die an excruciating death.

  Kind Regards, Mr Pink

  xxxx

  ?

  My first thought upon reading the message was What the fuck?! And my second thought was kisses? Really? That's when that understanding flooded my brain, and I didn't know how, but I knew the message was serious. That was when the portal opened. A bright pink tear in the fabric of reality. It appeared just five feet away from me. Everything told me to get through that portal as soon as possible, but there was one issue —or rather, thirteen.

  ?

  Sam and his goons had recovered from the sound, and judging by the way they kept looking at the portal, I was certain they’d got the message as well. Sam looked down at me, and a wicked smile crossed his face.

  ?

  “Rak, I hope you enjoy your stay here. Me and the boys will be taking our leave.” He said that with a stupid smile still on his face. With that, Jenson and the rest of his stupid cronies just walked through the portal, leaving me lying there in a pool of my own blood, unable to move.

  ?

  Well shit! I knew I needed to get to that portal; it was my only chance of survival. I forced aside my pride and gritted my remaining teeth, then dragged myself across the floor using my forearms, ignoring the agony in my limbs—a desperate, crawling effort like a broken caterpillar. Inch by inch, I closed the gap, determination driving me forward. I was mere centimetres away when, just as I reached out, the bloody thing winked out of existence.

  ?