The Beginning

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No one joins a gang without first being lost. No one goes to a monster for guidance unless it's their only option. The shouting was violence in the air. A turbulent whirlwind of noise that filled my ears. Pain jolted through me as my body crashed onto the pavement. I tried to push myself up, but there was another swift kick to my ribs.

I couldn't focus on the faces of my assailants. All I knew was that they were members of the Southside, and soon, they would be my family. The Southside gang provided me with a chance to escape my shattered life. They gave me a window in a windowless room. There would be no more begging in the streets or taunts at school.

A fist connected with my face and a loud crack filled the air. This was a new beginning for me. The fear exited my body, and the fighter inside me broke free. I swung my fist back, flesh giving way beneath my knuckles. I had to prove my commitment to the Southside, so I fought my way out.

 I had to prove my commitment to the Southside, so I fought my way out

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"Spencer." Cayden's deep, emotionless voice echoed off the steel walls of the old warehouse. "Welcome to the Southside."

The air was heavy and my chest tightened - I was trapped. A thin layer of sweat beaded my skin and the blood pounding in my ears made it difficult to hear.

All too quickly, the memories of fists relentlessly attacking me crept back into my mind. I lifted myself into sitting position, trying to steady the room around me, and touched my head. A wet, sticky substance covered my palm. Blood.

I blinked a couple of times, attempting to focus my eyes in the direction of Cayden's voice. My palm left a red handprint against the concrete as I pushed myself up. "Thanks," I mumbled, struggling to get to my feet.

I bent over, placing my hands on my knees to allow time for my body to regain its balance. My exposed chest was covered in dark purple and black bruises, a stark contrast against my pale skin. Standing made it easier to breathe. My lungs could expand, and the moist air filled my chest.

There were heavy footsteps as Cayden crossed the room, his figure becoming much clearer now. His dark eyes were on me while he patted my shoulder. I grimaced. The pain from his touch was almost too much to bear. From my hunched position, Cayden was tall and muscular with dark hair, his pale skin a backdrop for his piercing brown eyes. His hands and neck were littered with a slew of multi-colored tattoos that signified his status in the gang.

Cayden folded his arms across his chest as he stared down at me. "No more emotion. No more weakness. This is a lesson that will change your life."

I glanced up at him. I had no idea of the significance his words held, but one day I would.

"I've already got your first job," he said with a mischievous smile.

I pushed off my knees, straightening up so that my eyes were level with his now. A groan escaped my lips. I wanted nothing more than to return home. I yearned to be a normal kid again, but I had lost that opportunity the day I agreed to join the gang. As hard as it was to say, Cayden owned my life now.

"Cool. Hit me with it." I ran my clean hand through my dark hair.

He pulled a silver pistol from his jacket pocket, holding the barrel so that the butt of the gun was pointed toward me. I reached for it, my fingers wrapping around the cold, deadly weapon that I had seen on Cayden the day I met him in the alley. I admired the pistol for a moment and then smiled at him, tucking it away.

"I've got some missing payments. People owe me, and I want you to go collect the cash." Cayden shoved his hands in his pockets. "The gas station on 12th street and the deli off 3rd."

He took a couple of steps back, his dark eyes on my face. "You get my money no matter what it takes, Spencer. Do not return empty-handed. Do you understand?"

He turned his back and disappeared from the building before giving me a chance to respond.

I stared after him for a while, trying desperately to wrap my head around tonight's events. It had all happened so fast. I glanced down at the ground, my eyes landing on my bloody handprint stained on the concrete in front of me.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

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