The rain came down in sheets, turning the city streets into rivers of filth and forgotten dreams. Daniel Mercer stood at the edge of an alley, soaked to the bone, watching as the neon lights of a bar flickered in the distance. His once-tailored suit clung to him like a second skin, a pathetic reminder of the life he had lost. A year ago, he had everythingâa loving wife, a thriving business, and a future bright with promise. Now, he had nothing.
He pulled his coat tighter around him and stepped forward, his shoes splashing through puddles of dirty water. His mind replayed the last moments of his downfall like a cruel joke, each memory cutting deeper than the last.
It had started with a phone call.
"Daniel, the deal fell through."
He had laughed at first, convinced it was a mistake. The merger was supposed to be finalized, a billion-dollar contract that would secure his company's future. But within hours, his empire crumbled. Investors pulled out, lawsuits surfaced, and whispers of fraud spread like wildfire. His business partnerâhis best friendâvanished, taking what remained of their assets with him.
Days later, his wife packed her bags.
"I can't do this, Daniel. I can't watch you destroy yourself."
He had begged, pleaded, promised that he would fix everything. But the look in her eyes had been clear. She was already gone.
Now, a year later, he was a ghost wandering the ruins of his past.
Daniel reached the bar and pushed the door open. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hit him instantly. Inside, a handful of lost souls nursed their drinks, their faces hollow and forgotten. He made his way to the counter and dropped a few crumpled bills in front of the bartender.
"Whiskey," he muttered.
The bartender, a grizzled man with tired eyes, poured him a glass without a word. Daniel took it, letting the burn of alcohol momentarily drown out his thoughts. He stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His face was unrecognizableâsunken cheeks, unshaven jaw, eyes filled with something worse than sadness: emptiness.
A voice broke through his thoughts.
"You look like a man with nowhere left to go."
Daniel turned to see an old man sitting a few stools away. His hair was white, his skin weathered by time, but his eyes held a sharpness that sent a chill through Daniel's spine.
"What's it to you?" Daniel muttered.
The old man chuckled. "Just an observation. I've seen men like you before. Lost everything, drowning in regret. Thinking there's no way back."
Daniel scoffed. "And you think there is?"
The old man took a sip of his drink. "Depends. Are you willing to suffer for it?"
Daniel frowned. "I've already suffered."
The old man shook his head. "No. You lost. That's not the same thing."
Daniel opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He had spent a year running, numbing himself, avoiding the pain. Had he truly suffered? Or had he simply given up?
The old man leaned in. "You want to get up, Mercer? It's going to hurt. It's going to break you before it heals you. But if you're willingâŠ" He slid something across the counterâa folded piece of paper. "Find me."
Daniel hesitated before picking it up. There was an address scribbled in messy handwriting. No explanation, no details.
When he looked up again, the old man was already gone.
Daniel stared at the address for a long time, the weight of a decision pressing down on him. For the first time in a year, a question burned in his mind.
Did he want to rise again?
Outside, the rain continued to fall, but for the first time, it didn't feel like it was drowning him.