Chapter 1: Part 1: Survival of the Fittest. The will to live. Part 3

Part 3

A small whimper broke out.

The sound came from a child.

A small girl.

The girl was tied up with rope, and her mouth was taped. On her right was her mother, and on her left was her father. All three were in the same situation, bound and gagged.

To the small girl, she had no idea why the five men in the corner store were there, but the parents knew all too well.

Robbery.

The men in the store were going to rob it.

Awwww, and we were having so much fun."

The man began to walk up to the tied-up family and kneel in front of the girl.

"You remembered what I said before this whole ordeal—you guys stay quiet and no one will get hurt, right?"

The mother had tried her best to get in between the man and her child, but to no avail, as she could not freely move the way she wanted to.

The father tried to move to the best of his ability, but there was a sound that made even the strongest stop in his tracks.

"Clink".

The parents’ eyes opened in shock at what they were seeing.

The man had pointed the handgun at their daughter's forehead.

It was a sight no parent should ever have to see.

The parents tried to move, but they could not. They were right next to her, leaning on her, and they could not do a thing.

The girl looked at the gun pointed at her forehead. In her young life, she had never seen a gun due to NEO New York City's strict ban on illegal weapons. She did not know how to react.

The gun was pointed at her forehead.

The father tried his best to free himself. His hands and legs were tied with plastic anti-riot nylon handcuffs.

He attempted to pull his hands apart, thus breaking the cuffs, but as he did, the zip ties would seep into his skin. The pain was unbearable as it was; it felt like the man's hands were being slowly cut off. He could not see it, but his wrist was bleeding.

But he had to bear the pain. Inch by inch. He felt angry as he watched the man point the gun at his daughter's forehead.

If he had one chance, the man would rip them apart and beat them to the ground, all of them. Even if he had to cut off his own hands to do so, he would risk his own wellbeing to protect his family.

The father continued to struggle.

The man smirked as he released the father, who had attempted to free himself. He gently removed the gun from the girl's forehead.

Clank!

The leader of the group pistol-whipped the father.

I'm sorry, it's just that I was watching you struggle, and I could not help myself".

The father groaned on the floor.

Hurts, doesn’t it?"

The leader stood over the father.

"Do you feel it—to be helpless, to be at the bottom of the food chain, to know that you can't do anything? Tough feeling?"

The father laid there in agony.

He pointed the gun at the mother and spoke as blood poured out of a wound on his head.

"Do you want to be next, ma’am?"