Riven had always loved stories about magic. In the rare, quiet moments when his hands weren't blistered from scrubbing dishes or hauling sacks of grain, he would lose himself in tales of powerful mages who bent the elements to their will, rising from nothing to shape kingdoms, beloved and coveted by all.
But they were just stories.
Reality was much crueler.
Riven had just finished closing up his family's bakery after preparing the dough for tomorrow morning. He had let his tired, overworked parents turn in for the night, promising that he could clean up and close everything.
It was then, when three loud knocks came thundering from the locked wooden door, that Riven knew something was wrong. He didn't even have time to unlock the series of locks before a loud splintering sound filled the empty storefront and the door swung open with a bang.
"Knock, knock." A deep, throaty laugh rumbled from the doorway as a group of around ten men filtered over the threshold, filling up the room.
"W-what's going on?" Riven stumbled back against the counter, a feeling of doom spreading from his stomach as he took in the rough, recognizable appearance of the gang now standing in his family's bakery. "Why are you here today? Payment isn't due till the end of the month!"
He and his family lived in the countryside, in a small farming town that consisted of a rundown supermarket, a restaurant, a bar, and his family's bakery. Over the years, farming became less popular in the area, and people began to move to bigger cities. The bakery's income had dropped steadily until, over the past year, his father had borrowed money to pay the land rent and continue tuition for Riven's sister, who had left for university.
But despite the struggles they faced, they had kept up with the payments.
So why…
"Bastard, you think I'd be here without a reason?!" The leader of the gang spat as he shoved a calloused finger against Riven's chest, causing him to gulp. This group of thugs was a local drug gang operating in nearby towns and villages. Riven had warned his father not to borrow money from them, but, faced with rejection from the banks, his father had no choice.
"Then why are you here?" Riven asked quietly as he scanned the room, desperately plotting any sort of escape route. There were none.
"Wow, you really don't know, do you?" The leader chuckled, the motion crinkling the scar running over his left eye. "You're four months late."
The world seemed to freeze as the words settled in Riven's ears.
"No… that's not right. No." He shook his head, acid rising in his throat. A swift smack to the back of his head sent him stumbling.
"Bastard! I give your family the mercy of three months without paying, and this is how I'm treated?" The leader lifted his hand again, his palm connecting with the side of Riven's face.
"No." Riven clutched his throbbing cheek. "Please, let me get my parents. There must be a mix-up."
The leader watched Riven for a moment before erupting into laughter, his goons joining in after a moment. The sound sent goosebumps rippling over Riven's skin.
"Oh, I kind of feel bad for you, kid." The leader finally stopped laughing and wiped away a tear. "I had shitty parents growing up too. I think yours might be worse, though."
"What—" Riven began to protest, but the leader held up a finger to silence him. He pulled out his phone and pressed something.
A voice recording began to play.
"You're on the last month of my mercy, Jacob," the gang leader's voice crackled through the phone. "I've told you what happens when you can't pay after the third month, haven't I?"
"Yes, sir, I remember." Riven's breath hitched as he recognised his father's voice. "I've been trying hard to save, but no one is buying from us."
"Is that so?" The gang leader's soft chuckle sounded before he sighed. "Then how were you able to rack up a bill of five grand at Cullen's Casino?"
Riven stopped breathing.
"I did not…" His father began to deny the accusation, but the rustle of papers—proof, perhaps—sounded through the phone. "It was a mistake. I went out with a few friends and lost myself in gambling. But it was only one time! I didn't mean to spend so much!"
"You motherfucking liar!" A smack sounded through the phone, and his father grunted. "I have proof right here that you visited the casino every goddamned weekend, spending the money you owe me! Do you take me for a joke?!" Another thud sounded, followed by his father's cry, and Riven's legs began to buckle.
Every weekend? But his father delivered bread to a town over every Saturday… did he lie? The voice on the phone was unmistakably his father's.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" His father's cry rattled through the phone as the thuds continued to sound. "Please! I'll pay you back! I'll do anything!"
Riven remembered something from his childhood—countless arguments between his mother and father about his drinking and gambling. He thought his father had stopped by the time Riven was a teenager. But…
He was wrong. His father had never changed.
So what the hell had Riven been working so hard for? He had dropped out of high school when his parents began to worry about not making enough money. He worked seven days a week, year-round, without pay to lessen the burden on his parents. He even urged his sister to continue her education, giving up any future of his own so his family could survive.
He sacrificed himself so they wouldn't suffer.
But his father had deceived him. Instead of lessening the weight of debt, he was pissing away their earnings on booze and gambling.
So everything Riven had done these past five years… what the hell had he been working so hard for?
"You have three options," the leader's voice continued through the phone. "I sell your wife and daughter to the brothel one town over. The payment will settle half of your debt, and I'll even give you half a year off paying to help you get back on your feet."
"What?! I would never agree to that!" His father's yell made Riven flinch.
"Second option, I take over your bakery completely and kick you and your family out on the streets," the gang leader continued. "I'll use it as a money-laundering operation, but your name will still be listed as the owner. I'd only let you live because I'd need you to keep signing all documents relating to the bakery."
"No, you can't! That bakery has been in my family for generations! Please, if you take that away from us, we won't be able to make a living."
"Option three: we take your son's organs," the leader said, his words making Riven shiver. "There's a rise in the market for organs—especially from young, healthy men. If you go with this option, I'll give you a year off from our monthly payments."
Riven closed his eyes and sighed. His head was a mess with everything that was happening, but he needed to focus. The only option left was for them to give the bakery to the gang. It would be tough for him and his parents, but perhaps they could stay with his sister in the city in the meantime. He could get a job somewhere, and maybe—
"Option three." His father's voice answered quietly through the phone, and Riven's eyes snapped open. "Do you promise you'll give us a year off from payment if I choose the third option?"
Riven's legs finally gave out, and he collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, his mouth agape as he stared at the now-sneering gang leader. The leader slipped the phone back into his pocket and crouched down in front of him.
"I kind of feel bad for you, kid," the gang leader sighed, scratching the side of his shaven head. "I don't mean to rub salt in the wound, but your father didn't even bat an eyelash when he signed away your life."
Huh? No…
No way. Not after everything Riven had done. He had been such a good son. He had done everything anyone ever asked of him. So why…
"Please." Riven's voice was barely a whisper as he tried to pull himself up. "Let me talk to my parents."
"No can do, kiddo. The buyer's waiting. Your father already drugged your food earlier, so you should be starting to feel it right about now." The gang leader smiled, tilting his head as if studying him.
Riven was about to speak, but, like some sick twist of fate, a wave of dizziness rolled over him. He stumbled, clutching his head, a bitter, humorless laugh ripping from his throat.
It was all true.
He had spent his life trying to please and help others, only to be stabbed in the back by the one who was supposed to protect him.
He tried to take a step toward the door, but his legs went numb, and he fell—caught just before hitting the floor by one of the gang members.
"It's alright, kid. Don't fight it. Just sleep." The gang leader's voice became faint in Riven's ears.
Riven felt numb and broken as the darkness began to surround his mind. If only he had chosen to do something else with his life. If only… if only his life was like one of the novels he loved to read in his spare time. In those stories, he could have been like the main character—loved and feared by all, overcoming every obstacle with sheer strength and determination.
He didn't want his life to end like this.
If only… he had another chance.