A scrawny figure laid on a completely worn-out bed, in a poorly lit room. The figure was so lean that one could easily mistake the silhouette for a skeleton.
This person was a boy and no more than seventeen years old. He had spent all his life in the slums, or as the locals called it 'Pits'.
People like him weren't given any name, in such places they weren't granted the privilege of a name or a mind. But this boy was different, or you could say privileged enough to have both of these.
'Vidan' is what he had named himself. He could not remember on what day he decided to call himself that but he liked the ring of it and in due time this name started to feel his own. Something he could call his own.
A dictionary was kept beside him, it was somehow always beside him even when he didn't wish it to be. It was the last memory of his mother.
Unconsciously Vidan's skinny hand brushed over the dictionary and he felt the imprint over it. It was the only thing in the room that was intact otherwise all his books were printed pages with font just big enough to read.
Oftentimes, when younger, Vidan had made up his mind to throw this last bit of link but somehow he never could. He might have hated his mother for abandoning him when he was still a baby, but this dictionary had given him a way to educate himself and think, another privilege in such a place.
Vidan could not recall anything of how his life was before the pits except for his mother handing him this dictionary and asking him to walk towards this broken-down place. He didn't even remember if he was 5 or 6 at the time.
When younger his mind would often indulge in imagining the pain his mother would have felt when abandoning him. In some versions of his dream, she wailed out of pain and agony, while in others she cried blood.
But another thing a place like this teaches you is the practicality of life. How these imaginations were nothing but mere extensions of what he wanted things to be like.
Vidan took a sigh, he had again drifted off in his useless thoughts. He had this bad habit of going back in his memory lane whenever he was reading something interesting. He shifted his attention back to the stapled pieces of paper in his hand. The heading read 'Écrits'.
Reading was the only substantial thing in his life, it was like an anchor to keep his mind sane. Otherwise, he too would have lost himself like most of the people under this hellish life and intoxicating chemicals.
Hardly a second had passed when there was a light knock on the door, it was soon followed by two hard knocks. Hearing the knocks Vidan's face was flushed with mixed emotions of confusion and anxiety.
He took a moment or two to get his composer back and jumped out of his bed, it was a small room with almost no furniture and unpainted cemented walls which added its own touch of gloom.
'Aren't they supposed to be here tomorrow ?' he thought and walked towards the door but cautiously stopped after only taking a few steps.
He went back to his bed picked up the knife from under his rags and hid it under his hoodie's sleeves. Even though he knew it was one of Hussain's men still caution was always necessary in his line of work.
Vidan's steps were much more confident now than earlier.
"My chance not until tomorrow !" he spoke irritably while opening the door. The only thing that made life bearable in the pits was that they got a day off after every successful job done.
"Bosses order Sweak." his visitor said shrugging his shoulder. The visitor was called Rat, he was a few years older than Vidan and the two had grown up together, but they weren't friends. No one was a friend in here.
Rat was as skinny as Vidan, and he had deep sunken eyes. Such eyes were a common physical trait in the Pits. Some had these due to excessive crying, while most were due to abuse of dr*gs.
"Ask some other boy Rat you know I just did a theft just this morning." Vidan replied he was really tired, his last job had exhausted and he wanted to complete reading the text today.
"Want me to chop off your tongue you wild dog ?" came a hoarse voice from beside Rat followed by heavy steps. Vidan's face turned pale when he heard the voice, and he internally cursed himself for not checking for any more visitors.
Rat's lips turned into a crooked smile seeing Vidan and he stepped aside to give way to the 2nd visitor Khalid.
Vidan gulped down his saliva when the tall bulky man stood in front of him. Khalid was Hussain's hitman,a complete barbarian. He was said to have poked out a man's eyes to have looked at him the wrong way.
'Damn you !' Vidan cursed Rat to have led him to this. That is what people were like here, they would chew you for just a smile.
Vidan slowly putting forth a smile chuffed his hands inside his hoddie's pocket to adjust his knife in case the situation turns out bad. He was no fool and was aware that he would not amount to much in front of this savage even with a knife but the feel of a weapon at his disposal gave him a sense of strength.
"Filthy Swine you laughing at me?" Khalid took a step forward towards Vidan now covering the whole frame of the door.
"No...no Khalid I am not... you misunderstanding me -"
"You call me foolish ?" Khalid roared in anger. It was useless reasoning with this brute, anything Vidan would have said at this point would have made him only more furious.
Vidan took a step back, his right hand holding the door while his left hand was on the concealed knife's stud. He was ready with a plan of action- if in case the giant took another step forward he would block his passage with the door while simultaneously stabbing Khalid.
Then after stabbing him just hope Khalid would give him a quick death and that there would be nothing after death, no people, no toiling, just sleep and darkness.
Khalid stepped forward with a heavy step inside the room like a death bringer. Vidan took two deep breaths to calm down his shivering legs and steel his determination.
"Khalid, boss's order" Rat spoke from a side and placed his hand on Khalid's shoulder.
Khalid shrugged away Rat's hand and turned towards Rat with bloodshot eyes. His face all twisting with anger. He was nothing but a steriod brain only capable of causing destruction and he did exactly that, the savage pulled the door towards himself with a burst of strength.
Vidan let go off the door, it was the best decision otherwise he would have flunked along with the door.
In the next moment, Khalid ripped the wooden door off its hinges and smashed it on the ground.
Vidan's knee grew weak as he witnessed Khalid's monstrous strength. He took a few steps back unconsciously, but his hands refused to let go of the concealed weapon and his grip only tightened.
"I will kill you both!" Khalid roared in his hoarse voice threatening both of them, and after giving Vidan one last glance left.
Vidan let out a sigh of relief watching the big man depart. His hands were all sweaty and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of him.
His palm was burning and he could feel the pattern of the knife's stud imprinted on his palm.
Vidan left the knife in his pocket and took out his hands from his hoodie's pocket, and looked at it. His hand had gone pale and though it was at ease now but he felt a sense of lack, a sense of incompleteness without the knife in his grasp.
"You scaredy cat, look how you clenched your fist in fright." Rat laughed looking at Vidan's pale palm which was now slowly gaining its color back.
Vidan looked at Rat clearly agitated. His very first thought was to stab the fucker in his face. But soon that anger turned hollow as his reality of being powerless seeped in.
People like him were without many choices in their lives, it was always their fate that shrouded their free will. Some waited for some miracle to happen so they could get out of their misery, while some like Vidan knew miracles and dreams only suited fantasy.
Disease claimed most lives in the Pit and if one is lucky it would not be as painful, something like kernicterus. If one was unlucky they would be found by the cartel and one thing that was known about the cartel was that they always did find you.
Different parts of the Pit were controlled and managed by different cartels, they had their territories marked from which they recruited and ruled.
Again if you are lucky cartel gives you a choice either they sell you off in the black market mostly for organs so your pathetic life could be traded for some rich person, or you could join the cartel and follow their orders just as was the case of Vidan.
'Modern-day slavery' as Vidan often called it.
"You daydreaming asshole, let's go." Rat trudged Vidan's arm gesturing him to follow.
Vidan nodded his head. He glanced inside his room to look for anything which could be stolen while he was away.
His room hardly had anything a mattress, which was not even a mattress but his clothes that were torn and completely worn-out put together to act like a mattress, and his bed which was more of a cot.
The only thing of any value to him in this room were his stapled pages, which were scattered throughout the room and the only good thing about the pit and the people around them was that they never stole his books.
To them pieces of paper were hardly of any value, even if they sold it to the pit's ragman they would sell the pages for their weight which hardly made any money. So his treasure trove was safe even in this hell hole called Pit.