Where am I? I opened my eyes and the first thing I felt was the cold of the night. I got up as quickly as my body would allow, digging my hands into some sticky trash bags next to me so I wouldn't fall backwards. My head was about to explode, I felt nauseous and had a burning sensation in my throat.

  “Ahh, damn...” I said, spitting out the bitter taste in my mouth.

  I kept drinking until they dragged me out again. Damn bartender, mind your own business. What the hell do you care if I want to drink until my body can't take it anymore? Everyone is supposed to be responsible for their own life, but they won't let you drink in peace. And worst of all, throwing me out here among the trash as if I were just another piece of shit. That bastard is going to have to deal with me the next time I see his face.

  “Fuck you, you dying old man, I hope you die!” I yelled at the back door of the bar.

  I walked out of the dark alley, staggering from side to side as if the ground beneath my feet wouldn't stop moving. I had drunk too much that night, just like every other night. At the end of the day, this was normal. I'm a 40 year old failure who does nothing but drink and do drugs until I can't anymore. I don't remember when it all started; I think my whole life has been like this.

  Since I was a child, I was a delinquent who lived by stealing and doing drugs in the slums of the city of Verida. I had a family, but they were bastards, so I had to leave home when I was young and live on my own. I don't regret it. The only thing my parents left me was the name Sairo Blade, and I'm not even proud to say that.

  I kept walking toward the bridge where I used to sleep every night. The bridge was next to a lake where people went to walk with their partners. I just go under it, find my corner, and lie down there. At the end of the day, a roof is a roof, even if it's made of cold concrete.

  As I was walking past the lake, a blurry figure appeared in the distance. I stopped for a second and rubbed my eyes, straining to see until the silhouette became clear. It was a woman.

  What the hell is she doing out here at this hour? Yes, I can imagine. She's probably waiting for a client to sell her body. That kind of bitch also lived in my neighborhood when I was young. My mother was one of them, and my father abused her every night, forcing her to sell herself so he could keep all the money. Seeing this girl here doing the same thing of her own free will turned my stomach.

  “Hey girl, what are you doing here at this hour, are you waiting for someone?”

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  The girl turned to look at me. As soon as she saw me, she made a face of disgust that made me want to rip her face off. Then, without saying a word, she returned to her original position, turning her back on me and ignoring me completely.

  What the hell is wrong with this bitch?

  “Hey, I'm talking to you!” I grabbed her arm hard to get her attention. That made her angry. She turned around faster than I expected and punched me straight in the face. The blow caught me off guard. I felt my jaw crack, and the impact knocked me off balance. I ended up falling on my ass.

  “Let me go, you damn drunk, don't ever touch me again in your life!”

  Oh yeah? “Damn bitch.” I got up and grabbed her again, but this time it wasn't by the arm. I threw her to the ground and started touching her whole body like a degenerate. “You'll see what happens to you for raising your hand to me.”

  The girl started screaming for help, but that didn't stop me, it just made me angrier. I covered her mouth and continued to take off her clothes.

  “Why the hell are you crying, you damn bitch? Isn't this what you were waiting for?”

  When I was about to finish taking off all her clothes, I heard a loud crash, and my body lost its balance.

  I fell sideways onto the floor and lay there watching as the girl got up, scared to death and crying. She was moving her mouth as if she were talking to someone, but I couldn't hear anything. It was as if my ears had been covered. I could see her lips moving, but no sound came out of them.

  I tried to move my arms or legs to get up, but it was impossible. My body wouldn't respond; I couldn't feel anything. It was as if my limbs no longer existed. I lay there, unable to move, while my vision began to fail. A red blur began to spread from the corners of my eyes until it covered my entire field of vision.

  It was the metallic smell of blood that made me realize I was dying.

  Unlike how I had imagined this moment, I didn't feel happy that I was finally leaving this world. I felt that I was leaving, that I was dying. I felt fear, and for the first time in my life, I felt the desire to live. Maybe I could have lived a better life if I had never given up, if I had never sunk into alcohol.

  If I had another chance, I would try again. I wouldn't let my weakness take control of me and tell me what to do. I would like to have a real family, a wife and children.

  Even if it sounds selfish from the outside, even if people think I'd be better off dead and that someone like me doesn't deserve to be happy. I don't see it that way. Even vagabonds have the right to live on our own terms.

  I... don't want to die.