Days passed, and the container grew increasingly foul—not from the corpses, but from the lack of ventilation and the inevitable realities of their confinement.
Poor hygiene, sweat, and the fact that some of them had their periods added to the stifling atmosphere. Without proper access to water for bathing, the stench became unbearable.
Zayn decided to act. Using whatever tools he could find, he began punching small holes into the walls of the container to improve airflow.
'This should do it,' Zayn muttered under his breath, exhaling deeply as he assessed the situation.
He glanced at them—they were in rough shape. The withdrawal symptoms from whatever drugs they had been using were taking a severe toll.
Some of them had scratched their skin raw, leaving bleeding welts. Their trembling hands and sunken eyes told him they had not slept properly in days.
Reluctantly, he dug into the supplies and handed out disinfectant for their wounds.
"Use this. It'll help stop the infections," he instructed.
He also tried to calm them down, rationing out small doses of painkillers to take the itched off.
It wasn't much, but at least it allowed some of them to finally drift into a restless sleep.
As they settled down, he leaned back against the metal wall, knowing he couldn't afford to lose focus.
The woman with black and purple hair approached him cautiously. By now, he knew her name—Marie.
It didn't really fit her appearance, but who was he to judge?
"Hey… do you want to do it?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"You heard me," she said, avoiding his eyes. "If you want to… you know, I won't stop you."
He shook his head. "No. That's not happening."
Her expression tightened. "So what? You think I'm dirty or something?"
Zayn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm just speaking statistically here, based on the nature of your work. "
"It's not like you were exclusive. You told me yourself—your customers were just average street thugs."
Marie froze, her face darkening. "You think I wanted to do that?"
"Bullshit," Zayn snapped, his voice colder than he intended.
He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to steady himself. He could feel the darkness in his heart rising again, creeping into his thoughts, twisting his words.
"I get it. Money's tight, especially with the inflations. But selling those dangerous drugs? You knew what they did to people, and you still went through with it. That's where I draw the line."
She opened her mouth to explain herself, but he cut her off, his voice firm.
"Please, stop talking and just leave me alone. No matter what you tell me, it won't change the fact that I don't like people like you."
Marie flinched, the words hitting her like a slap. Her lips parted as if to say something, but she closed them again, her expression hardening.
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
The others, who had harbored similar intentions, quickly abandoned the idea after witnessing his blatant display of disgust.
His words and demeanor made it clear he wasn't interested—not in them, not in their offers, and certainly not in anything related to satisfying his carnal desires.
He exhaled heavily, leaning back against the metal wall. He didn't regret saying it. Maybe it was cruel, but it was also true.
More days passed.
He got to work, using the sharp edge of a metal rod to punch more holes near the container's entrance.
The plan was simple: when it rained, these holes would act as makeshift showers. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing, especially with the stench inside growing unbearable by the day.
Zayn wasn't done yet. He turned his attention to the remaining crate. He lined its interior with the largest garbage bags he could find, layering them carefully to make sure they held water without leaking.
Once satisfied, he dragged the crate beneath the area with the most holes.
They watched him, some with curiosity, others with gratitude. One of them finally broke the silence. "You're resourceful, I'll give you that."
He shrugged, brushing off the comment. "We need to survive. Simple as that."
Not long after, a light drizzle began to patter against the metal container. The sound was faint but promising.
Soon, water started seeping through the holes, creating thin streams that trickled down like miniature waterfalls.
They didn't hesitate. One by one, they lined up near the entrance, letting the rainwater wash over them.
As the rain intensified, they quickly realized their damp, dirty clothes were more of a hindrance than a help.
Without much thought, one after another, they began to take off their clothing, tossing the soiled garments aside.
Zayn saw this but immediately turned his back.
Laughter and relief filled the air as they embraced the cold rain, washing away days of grime and stress.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they looked less like captives and more like people reclaiming a small piece of dignity.
"Make sure to clean yourselves properly—and don't forget to brush your teeth," he added, his tone gruff as he tried to reassert some authority.
But they were too caught up in their rare moment of joy, laughing and splashing in the water like kids playing in puddles.
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. 'I need to focus,'
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Authors Note:
What you've read so far is just the tip of the iceberg.
If you think the main character is too much, then this novel might not be your cup of tea.
But if you want to read about a badass MC—someone who does whatever it takes to survive, not like those half-assed, goody-two-shoes who just become cruel and cunning when it suits them—this novel is made for you.
Add this to your collection now and help me kick off this novel with a strong start. If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to shower it with some precious powerstones—every one makes a huge difference.