Chapter 5

When you have nowhere left to turn, desperation turns you into a monster.

I reached out to a contractor I knew from the construction site — a guy named Marcus Stone.

Marcus didn't do legitimate work. He only handles off-the-books dirty work. Things like illegal demolition runs in condemned neighborhoods in the dead of night, or blasting in underground mines with zero safety measures.

"Five hundred thousand?"

Marcus blew out a long puff of smoke in the hazy pool hall and squinted at me. "Kyle, you've got some nerve. A job worth five hundred grand is the kind you pay for with your life."

"As long as I get the money, my life doesn't matter." I stared him down, my eyes shot through with red.

Marcus smiled, showing a row of yellowed teeth. "Alright, I can see you're the real deal. There's an abandoned chemical plant on the south side of town that needs to be torn down. Inside, there are a few large tanks still holding residual toxic gas. Legitimate demolition companies won't touch it — too risky, not enough profit. The owner is putting up eight hundred thousand, with a three-day deadline. You take a few guys in, cut those tanks open. When it's done, I'll give you five hundred thousand."

I knew exactly what that meant.

No protective suits. No gas masks. Just a cutting machine, going at iron tanks that once held deadly chemicals.

One wrong spark. One explosion. One breath too many of toxic gas — and there'd be nothing left of you to bury.

"Fine. I'll take it." I didn't hesitate for a second.

For those three days, I told Audrey the construction site was on a tight deadline — strict on-site management, no going home.

I took three men who had nothing to lose, and we crept into that chemical plant like rats, into the sharp, stinging smell that hit you the moment you stepped inside.

The temperature was over forty degrees. The air was thick with a suffocating yellowish-green haze.

Sparks flew from the cutting machine with every pass. Each cut felt like dancing on the edge of Death's blade.

On the first day, one of the workers inhaled too much toxic gas and collapsed inside one of the tanks, foaming at the mouth. We dragged him out. He was already gone.

Marcus tossed his family twenty thousand dollars and called it settled.

On the second day, my lungs felt like they were on fire. Every breath tasted like blood. My vision started blurring, and my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the cutting machine.

But there was only one thought in my head: five hundred thousand dollars.

With five hundred thousand, I could throw the down payment right in Gloria's face. I could let Audrey walk down the aisle with her head held high.

On the third night, the last tank finally came crashing down.

I collapsed onto the ground, covered in oil and toxic sludge, and stared up at the black sky. Then I started laughing — loud, uncontrollable laughter.

I'd made it out alive.

I'd earned the five hundred thousand.

Marcus tossed a heavy black plastic bag in front of me.

"Kyle, you've got the luck of the devil. Money's in there. Count it."

I didn't count it. I clutched that bag like it was my life.

I dragged my wrecked body back to our apartment that same night.

When I pushed the door open, Audrey was slumped over the table, fast asleep. There was a bowl of oatmeal on the table, long gone cold.

The noise woke her up with a jolt.

The moment she saw me, she screamed.

I was covered head to toe in black grime. My clothes were in shreds. My face was slashed with cuts. My eyes were so red they looked like they could bleed. My whole body reeked of chemicals that turned your stomach.

"Kyle! What happened to you?! Don't scare me like this!" Audrey rushed at me and threw her arms around me, not caring about the filth covering every inch of my body.

I grinned, teeth showing, and shoved the black plastic bag into her arms.

"Audrey… I got it… five hundred thousand… we've got the down payment…"

The moment those words left my mouth, everything went dark. I blacked out.