Predators and Prey by Juli

Marcus didn't need threats or violence—

his presence alone was enough to make people nervous. A cold stare and a few seconds of silence were usually enough. People around the city knew his reputation. He worked for a group of loan sharks who always collected their money, and Marcus was the person they sent when someone refused to pay.

One rainy evening, he stood in a damp basement facing a man who owed a large amount of money.The debtor sat shivering in a wooden chair. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the room smelled of mold and old concrete.

"Please," the man begged. "Just give me one more week. I have children. I'll find the money."

Marcus barely listened. He had heard the same excuses many times before.

Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old brass lighter. He placed a cigarette between his lips and struck the wheel.

Click.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Click.

Still no flame.

Instead, a sharp smell of butane and flint filled the air.

The scent hit Marcus immediately.

All of a sudden, the basement vanished

He was eight years old again.

He found himself hiding inside a small shed behind his childhood home. The summer heat was unbearable, and the air smelled exactly the same—gasoline, chemicals, and old paint. He sat in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. His ribs ached from fresh bruises.

Outside, he heard the heavy footsteps of his stepfather.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Each step made his heart beat faster.

Marcus wanted to cry, but he knew it wouldn’t help. His stepfather always found him. As the footsteps came closer, a thought formed in his mind, one he would never forget.

The world was divided into two kinds of people: predators and prey.

The weak suffered.

The strong survived.

Showing fear only made things worse.

When the shed door finally opened, Marcus didn’t cry or beg. He simply looked up with empty eyes. In that moment, he buried his emotions deep inside himself and promised that one day he would never be the frightened child hiding in the dark again.

Click.

A flame suddenly appeared.

Marcus blinked and returned to the basement.

The memory faded, but the cold feeling remained. It had stayed with him for years.

The debtor was still sitting in front of him, still pleading for mercy.

Marcus lit his cigarette and took a slow drag. For a brief second, he wondered what his life might have been like if someone had protected him when he was a child.

The thought disappeared almost immediately.

He looked at the man in the chair. He felt no anger, hatred, or pity.

Only emptiness.

Marcus snapped the lighter shut and stepped forward.

Then he continued doing the only thing he had learned how to do: survive.