The streets of Zethron were alive with their usual hum — distant chatter, the whirring of hover cars overhead, the steady pulse of the city beneath my feet. I didn't notice any of it anymore. I had learned how to tune it out, how to move through the chaos as if I wasn't really there. It was like I existed in some strange in-between place, not quite a part of this world, but not apart from it either.
I walked aimlessly, the soles of my shoes worn down to almost nothing. Hunger gnawed at me, but I had long since gotten used to it. My stomach had learned to accept the emptiness, just like my mind had learned to accept the loneliness.
I don't know how long I had been walking when I heard the shouting.
At first, it was just noise — another argument, maybe. Zethron wasn't exactly short on conflict. But something about this voice... it pierced through my haze.
I stopped in my tracks, lifting my head for the first time in what felt like hours, and saw them.
A family. A man, a woman, and a little girl. The girl couldn't have been more than five, her bright eyes wide with terror as she clung to her mother's leg. The man — her father, I assumed — was standing in front of them, trying to hold his ground. But he wasn't alone. Surrounding him were six men, rough-looking and clearly dangerous. Their faces were hard, their eyes filled with that cold indifference I had seen on the streets a hundred times before.
"Just give us what we want," one of them growled, holding a knife at his side, the blade catching the faint glow of the streetlights. "No one has to get hurt."
The man shook his head, his voice firm but laced with fear. "Leave my family alone."
It was a brave thing to say, but bravery doesn't always mean survival. One of the robbers sneered and lunged forward, swinging the knife toward the man. The father dodged, barely, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He was trying to protect his family, but he was outnumbered. He couldn't win.
I felt a strange numbness settle over me as I watched. My feet stayed rooted to the ground, my mind clouded with indecision. I should help. I should do something.
But I didn't move.
What can I even do? I thought, the question running through my head on repeat. I was just a scrawny kid, barely surviving myself. What could I possibly do against six men with weapons? It wasn't my fight. It wasn't my problem.
And yet... something gnawed at me, something that wouldn't let go. The look on that little girl's face — the pure, unfiltered fear — it hit me in a way I hadn't expected. It was like seeing myself in her eyes, a reflection of the helplessness I had felt all those years ago.
I know what it's like to lose everything.
The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. My parents, the crash, the hospital... I remembered waking up to the news that my whole world had collapsed in an instant. I remembered the emptiness that followed, the crushing weight of being completely alone.
That little girl... she could be about to lose everything, just like I had. Her whole life could be ripped apart in the next few seconds. And I was just standing here, watching.
Move, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. Do something.
But I still hesitated, fear gripping my chest.
The father was struggling now, barely keeping the robbers at bay. The men circled him like wolves, taunting him, pushing him back toward his family. His wife was holding their daughter tightly, her face pale with terror.
"Please," the woman begged, her voice shaking. "We don't have much... just take it and go."
One of the men laughed, a cruel sound that made my skin crawl. "You hear that? They're ready to hand it over."
Another one stepped forward, pointing his knife at the father. "Too bad. We like to play with our food first."
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms. My brain screamed at me to walk away, to leave it alone. But I couldn't. Not this time.
I couldn't let this happen. Not again.
Without fully realizing what I was doing, I stepped forward.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them, my voice surprisingly steady. The men turned to look at me, their eyes narrowing in confusion. I didn't look like much of a threat — I knew that. Just a scrawny teenager, half-starved and dressed in ragged clothes. But I was all the family had right now. I had to be enough.
One of the robbers — the tallest one, with a scar running down his cheek — stepped toward me, his knife gleaming in the light. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Doesn't matter who I am. Just leave them alone."
Scarface sneered, glancing back at his crew. "You hear that, boys? We've got ourselves a hero."
The others chuckled, but it was a low, dangerous sound. The kind of laugh that sent chills down my spine.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. My hands were shaking, but I couldn't back down now. If I ran, that little girl... she might lose everything.
"Walk away," I said, my voice firmer this time. "Before it's too late."
Scarface looked me up and down, clearly unimpressed. "You're out of your league, kid. Go home."
I didn't move.
The robber's face twisted in irritation. He raised his knife, stepping closer, his eyes darkening. "I said—"
Before he could finish, I lunged at him.
I didn't think. There wasn't time for thinking. I just reacted, my body moving on instinct. My fist connected with his stomach, and for a split second, I felt a surge of adrenaline. But then his hand was on me, shoving me back with a force that knocked the wind out of my lungs.
I hit the ground hard, the impact jolting through me. Pain shot up my side, but I scrambled to my feet, ready for whatever came next.
"You've got guts, kid," Scarface growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'll give you that."
I stood my ground, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. The other robbers were watching now, their amusement replaced by something darker.
"Leave them alone," I said again, even though my voice shook. "You don't need to do this."
For a moment, no one moved. The street seemed to hold its breath.
Then, Scarface took a step back, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "You're lucky we've got bigger fish to fry, kid."
He turned to his crew. "Let's get out of here."
And just like that, they melted into the shadows, disappearing down the street.
The family stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. The father was the first to move, stepping forward shakily.
"T-thank you," he stammered, his voice thick with relief. "You... you saved us."
I didn't know what to say. My heart was still racing, my hands still shaking. I wasn't a hero. I was just... lucky.
"I... I just didn't want her to lose you," I mumbled, glancing at the little girl. She was still holding onto her mother, but her wide eyes were fixed on me, full of gratitude and something I hadn't seen in a long time — hope.
Without another word, I turned and walked away, disappearing back into the night.
---
I don't know why I did it. Maybe because for the first time in a long time, I remembered what it felt like to lose everything. Maybe because in that moment, I couldn't stand by and watch someone else go through the same thing.
But as I walked through the dark streets of Zethron, one thought stayed with me.
Maybe I wasn't as broken as I thought.