Azalea

chapter 1~ he lied

I just killed a man.

Am I panicking?

Am I scared?

Am I shaking?

Do I feel bad?

Do I feel disgusted?

Do I feel regret?

The answer is no.

I take 40,000 rubles from a man's wallet. Do I feel bad for stealing? You may ask. No, because he didn't feel bad trying to rape me.

I quickly got up, ignoring the dead body, and started to walk as I looked at my phone.

I have 15 minutes to give the money to them, or else nothing good will happen.

10 minutes, I faster my footsteps.

5 minutes, I run

"I'm here," I said, opening the door.

"Huh, did you bring the money?" he asks.

"Yes, here," he says, taking them from me and starting to count.

"How did you get this kind of money?" He looks at me. "Who did you fuck, or who's dick did you suck? I thought you left that in the past, no?"

"I brought the money; am I free?"

"Money's here, although I wish you were late," he winks at me, disgusting

And about what he said: I wish you were late. "Yeah, if I'm late, I get to do stuff that I don't want, which is why I'm never late.

Bye," I say, and I walk. There's so much I want to say, but knowing what those men are capable of, I would rather not.

I walk to my house; I don't know if I can call it a proper house; it's just a ground with a roof and four walls.

I unlock the door and sit on the ground. I'm exhausted.

Maksim, my uncle, said I only had to go see a man who would give me some paper that I had to deliver to him later on.

He lied

I have a debt; technically, it's not mine but my father's, and I have to take responsibility for it. I had to drop out of school; if I didn't, I would be graduating in a few months.

But I can't do it; I can't make money, do gymnastics, and study at once.

And the only reason why I do gymnastics is that they kind of pay me; it's not much, but better than nothing, right?

I sigh. Cold air enters my lungs and makes me shiver.

I've lived in Russia my whole life, but I still can't get used to the cold.

Look around. How peaceful it would be if this place hadn't been so cold.

Thank God my parents don't live here anymore, not like they ever did; they would visit the house and then disappear for weeks.

It's good, though; it's silent, and I'm so used to loneliness that it turned into a comfort.

Now that I think about it, I haven't eaten today, and it's 7 o'clock.

I don't open my fridge. I already know I have nothing. I go straight to my wallet and see nothing.

I hear my stomach growling; I ignore it. It's fine; I don't have to eat today.

It's not like I haven't done it before.

Oh, but the good thing is that I start a new job tomorrow, part-time.

And I have an interview in a few days for another job, as well as part-time work as a waitress in a restaurant.

I'm excited.

~~~

For the record this is happening in Russia