That night, when the city got quiet and car horns gave way to the sound of the wind, Johan lay flat on his stiff mattress. His body was sore, his mind heavy after another long day taking care of his sick mom.
Ping!
His phone buzzed. Johan glanced lazily at the screen — and his heart skipped a beat.
A message from Nadya, the girl he secretly loved.
> "Johan, don't forget to come to my birthday party tomorrow, okay?"
Johan froze for a second. Her face flashed in his head, but the thought faded fast when he opened his wallet.
Damn near empty. All his money was gone for meds and food.
JOHAN (muttering):
"Man... just when I thought things were looking up, this shit happens..."
Suddenly — knock knock knock.
A loud banging at the door. Johan got up fast and opened it. Standing there was a big guy with a cold stare.
GANGSTER:
"Yo. Boss wants to see you."
JOHAN:
"What for?"
GANGSTER:
"Got a job for you."
A small smile crept on Johan's face.
JOHAN:
"Perfect timing. I need it."
GANGSTER:
"Then move. Let's go."
They headed to the hideout. Smoke and the stench of cheap liquor filled the air. Johan walked past some dudes playing cards and straight to the boss.
JOHAN:
"What's up?"
BOSS (lighting a smoke):
"My old man's sick."
JOHAN (chuckling):
"So what, you want me to buy him meds?"
BOSS (glaring):
"Hell nah. I want him dead.
That bastard left 70% of the inheritance to my little bro."
JOHAN:
"Ahh... I see now. So you want me to kill them both, huh?"
BOSS:
"Johan, I knew you'd get it."
JOHAN:
"How much?"
BOSS:
"Two-fifty. Cash."
JOHAN:
"Say less. I'm in."
---
Later that night…
Johan hopped out of a cab near the nightclub, told the driver to drop him a few blocks early to avoid suspicion.
He walked toward the address the boss gave him: One Heart Street.
Big ass house. Way too fancy for just two people. Johan hesitated, then jumped the fence and slipped in through the back window.
Dead quiet.
He moved carefully. No footsteps. No voices. Just the sound of his own breathing. He grabbed a kitchen knife and crept upstairs.
Behind one door, he heard voices — two men arguing about money and inheritance.
Johan backed off, found a hiding spot. Then someone stepped out of the room. Johan made his move.
Inside the bedroom was an old man sleeping in silence.
Johan stood there for a second…
Then covered the man's mouth and drove the knife into his chest — again, and again. He left it buried deep and ducked under the bed.
Moments later, the other guy walked in.
THE MAN:
"Wh–what the hell... this knife… it's from the house…"
Before he could say another word, Johan lunged from under the bed, shoved the man's hand — and bam. The knife plunged right into his own chest. He collapsed, wheezing. Done.
Johan slipped out the back and called another cab.
But it was the same driver.
DRIVER:
"Back already?"
JOHAN:
"Yeah."
DRIVER:
"How was the party?"
JOHAN (forcing a laugh):
"Eh... same old."
---
Back at the hideout…
JOHAN:
"It's done. Where's my money?"
BOSS (tossing envelope):
"There."
JOHAN:
"Appreciate it."
BOSS:
"So how'd you do it?"
JOHAN:
"Come on, you don't really wanna know. You just askin' to ask."
BOSS (grinning):
"You a cold one, man."
Johan dipped. He hit up the mall, bought a teddy bear and some chocolates for Nadya.
No matter what he did tonight — she didn't need to know. He just wanted to see her smile.
Later that night, he dropped on his bed.
JOHAN (softly):
"Am I goin' to hell…
...or is hell comin' for me?"
He closed his eyes. And knocked out.