"Damn it, James, you can't go on like this. You arrived late, drunk, and caused a scene. What the hell is wrong with you?" shouted a man of average height and chubby build.

"It was the damn traffic, sir. It's not my fault those damn animals don't know how to drive. They all drive like grannies," James replied.

"You have the audacity to blame others for this? I'm fed up with you, James, with your damn excuses and your rotten attitude. Go home and reflect on yourself. Actually, don't bother coming back. We don't need a useless person like you around here," the boss replied, pushing James out of the door of his establishment.

"Don't screw with me, boss. How the hell am I supposed to explain losing this job? I told you it wasn't my fault," James responded, waving his arms, trying to get back in.

The boss, tired of the attitude, simply pushed James and yelled, "It's your damn responsibility!" and slammed the door in his face.

James' mood wasn't good to begin with, but being fired from another job this month fueled his anger. He couldn't understand why everyone seemed to have it out for him.

"It must have been that bitch Ava. If she flaunts her cleavage, why the hell does she complain when people look at her?" he thought to himself as he walked aimlessly with his hands in his pockets.

James' life was going from bad to worse. As he began to remember why he had been late in the first place, a tremendous feeling of helplessness washed over him, and he headed towards the rundown bar he used to frequent.

As he walked towards the place, he began to check his pockets only to find his wallet empty. Nothing in his pockets, not a damn dollar, and to make matters worse, there was a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket.

He pulled out the paper to read it again. It was a damn court order. Emma had sued him again. "What the hell does this damn woman want now? Is she expecting to increase the alimony? I can't even afford what I owe now, and she wants to suffocate me even more," James' mood grew darker. Slowly, he started clenching his fists and jaw.

He tossed the paper next to a trash bin and headed towards an alley. He had no money to drink, so he had to scrounge for it.

A few weeks ago, he had mugged a prostitute, and he learned the hard way that he shouldn't do it again after nearly getting beaten to death. He narrowly escaped, but he knew that next time he wouldn't be so lucky. Finally, his downfall had led him to lose all his pride, and he started begging for money on the streets.

James spent his days begging since he had been evicted, lost his car, and all means of transportation. He had truly hit rock bottom, though perhaps he had hit it a long time ago.

The day of the court hearing arrived, and a disheveled Lucius showed up at the court, half-drunk.

Most of the court proceedings passed by without James even realizing what was happening. He would occasionally respond with a yes, but his mind was solely focused on how to get money for the night's alcohol.

"So, I won't go to jail," he asked his lawyer when everything was over.

The lawyer looked at him with a hint of disdain and replied, "No, Mr. James, the agreement you signed exempts you from any responsibilities, so you won't go to jail for that."

"Good," James responded, noticing the lawyer's attitude. Irritated, he put his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. As he was halfway there, he noticed two women waiting.

"Emma," he whispered.

She was dressed in an elegant white blouse and a black skirt, her brown hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. By her side stood a little girl, about 5 years old. They both had the same oval face and brown eyes, but the girl had a softer, upturned nose, more similar to James'.

At the other end, the girl seemed to hear the whisper of her mother's name and, as she looked up, she saw someone who terrified her. Immediately, she ran to take cover behind her mother.

When James saw this, he immediately became enraged. He was paying a large sum for that child every month, yet she always looked at him like he was a monster.

James began to approach the women when another man stood in his way.

"What do you want, you cretin?" James said, taking a step back at the sudden appearance.

"James, there's no need to get hostile. Just leave them alone. You've done enough harm already," the tall man replied, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Harm? They're the ones who have hurt me, abandoning me after everything I've done for them," James said, raising his voice.

The man was clearly infuriated by James' attitude, but just as he was about to advance and put James in his place, he felt a hand holding his arm.

"Darling, it's not necessary. Let's just go home. We won't have any more problems with James," she said, casting a harsh look at James.

She had been looking at him like this for years, reproaching him. That accusing gaze truly bothered him, and he felt guilty for some reason.

"Bah," James said with a grimace, and then he turned around and walked away without looking back.

If they didn't want to see him, he didn't want to see them either. After all, it was they who had sued him and made him come here.

James walked to where he sometimes stayed, his grandfather occasionally giving him a space in the garage when he had work. Perhaps with a few pleas, he could convince him that it was Emma's fault that he lost this job and get some time.

He walked for hours to reach his grandfather's house, but when he knocked on the door, he was met with a barrage of cane strikes.

"You damn son of a bitch! How dare you come here after what you've done today?" his grandfather yelled, striking him with his cane and breathing heavily.

"But I didn't do anything. It was Emma's fault. She sued me, and because of her, I lost my job!" James yelled back, covering his head and moving away from the strikes.

"Her fault, her fault," his grandfather shouted in his fury, trying to hit James, who had already distanced himself from him. "You abandoned your daughter, you damn son of a bitch. Do you think I didn't see you sit there and accept no responsibility? You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, James. You've been given too many chances, and you've rejected them all."

James felt a vein pulsing in his head. "What chances? What damn chances did I have? The chance to be used as a punching bag by my mother or that damn whore you call a son? What damn chance did I have?" James shouted like a madman.

"Do you think any of that gives you the right to take it out on the woman who gave birth to your daughters?" the old man said. However, realizing his slip of the tongue, he took a step back and looked at the ground.

James felt a lump in his throat. He felt that suffocating sensation again, that emptiness that suffocated him.

He was aware of what he needed. He couldn't silence the voices screaming in his head, but with enough alcohol, he could blur them.

He simply ignored the old man and headed for another place, another dive he used to frequent.

The old man watched him walk away, feeling a certain compassion. The boy was raised by two decadent human beings; it was not surprising that he turned out so twisted. It was truly tragic how he had fought so hard to escape that misery, only to be caught up in it again.

He sighed and went back into his house, knowing he would see him again soon, probably having to pick him up from a police station or hospital.

Meanwhile, James walked towards the dive, with steady steps and gritted teeth.

Surprisingly, at an intersection, a limousine ran a red light and hit James.

Although the impact wasn't too strong, it still knocked him to the ground.

Immediately, two burly men in suits and glasses got out of the limo.

"Where the hell did this guy come from?" said a dark-skinned man.

"Ah, just leave him there," said the other Caucasian man.

"If he sues us, we could have problems. After all, nobody should find out that the young lady escaped, or we'll be in serious trouble," said the dark-skinned man, looking around. There were some surveillance cameras that could have captured them.

Both men looked at James and quickly came to an understanding. It would be better to get rid of the problem before it arose. Besides, it was evident that James was just one of the many vagabonds in the city. Nobody would miss him if he disappeared.

Just as they were about to take action, they heard a voice from inside the limo. "Handle that quickly and let's get out of here. This place stinks."

Both men didn't know what to do, but the Caucasian man quickly made up his mind. He put $100 in James' pocket and dragged him to the sidewalk.

"With any luck, he'll drink himself into oblivion," he said to his companion with a chuckle, and they left.

After a while, James managed to get up and barely noticed what they had left in his pockets. He decided to head to a bar; he was going there anyway.

However, halfway there, he was intercepted by some thugs who dragged him into an alley.

"We saw what they gave you. It's time to pay your debts, kid," said one of the thugs, and without waiting for a response, they started beating him.

After making sure his whole body hurt, they stopped, and the same thug took the dollars from him and said, "Maybe this will help you remember to pay your debts on time," and they left.

Finally, James struggled to get up and went to a small square, where he sat on a bench.

He felt so powerless that he wanted to cry. So many things had happened to him that it honestly seemed like nothing made sense anymore. Everyone he knew had turned their backs on him. Everyone avoided him as if he were a plague. It had been incredibly hard to find a job, and yet he lost it in less than a month. He was sure that no one would give him another chance.

An extreme thought started to surface in his mind. If nothing made sense anymore, maybe it would be better to end it all.

The more he dwelled on it, the better he felt. A strange peace descended upon him as he thought about nothingness, about endless emptiness.

He closed his eyes and focused on the darkness. There was calmness; he knew it wouldn't hurt there. There would be peace.

"The void accepts everything," he suddenly heard, which made him open his eyes.

There, next to him, was a woman with beautiful features, porcelain-white skin, and waist-length blonde hair.

This woman looked unreal to James, as if it were impossible for such a perfect being to exist amidst all the filth.

The woman looked into James' eyes for a few seconds and then said, "Although you don't really want that."

Although he initially felt irritated, for some reason, a strange feeling of unease began to fill him. He was starting to feel more and more unreal.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?" said James, slowly recoiling.

"What I want is simple. Keep your promise," said the girl.

"What promise? What are you talking about?" said James, starting to sweat. His chest raced, his body felt heavy, and the infinite void consumed his mind.

"It's simple, James. Just remember me."