"What does she look like?", I faintly heard Liz ask, as I drifted off into my own thoughts. I didn't want to discuss Scarlett. All I wanted was to get my burn taken care of and leave. Last night's argument had drained me more than I anticipated.

"Don't get your hopes up, Liz", I finally replied, anxiously waiting for her to give me some antibiotics. "You know they never stay".

I wasn't ready to tell her the truth just yet. We had been friends since childhood, but I knew she would be upset if she found out I had nearly revealed a personal secret to a former journalist. It wasn't that I had anything against people in this profession, but my past experiences with them had left me unable to trust them completely.

"Then why did you fight with Blaze?", Liz continued.

Avoiding eye contact, I made sure not to give anything away. Liz could always tell when I was lying, and it bothered me how well she knew me. I saw it as a weakness on my part. We had almost lost touch when I moved to a different town, but Liz was determined enough to leave her parents' home and find me. At first, I thought she did it because she liked me, but I soon realized that wasn't the reason—she just didn't want to live the same restrictive lifestyle as her parents.

Based on what she shared, Liz grew up in a household with devoutly religious parents who planned to enroll her in an all-girls Catholic school. However, she desired the freedom to make her own choices, so she left her childhood home.

At first, I refused her request and urged her to come back later because I could barely afford to take care of myself. However, she didn't listen and decided to leave home. She took some money from her parents before leaving, which allowed us to have a roof over our heads and food on the table for a little while in a small, moderately decent apartment.

With the knowledge that our funds would soon deplete, I brainstormed ways to generate more income. Finding employment elsewhere crossed my mind, but it was not a feasible option. The authorities were on the lookout for me, and involving Liz in any form of labor was not an alternative either.

Stealing had become a common occurrence for me, but it wasn't bringing in enough money. So, I resorted to participating in illegal street fights as well. This lifestyle sustained us for a while, until even that wasn't enough. I made the mistake of taking too much from the wrong people, and it all came crashing down.

Feeling drained, I let out a heavy breath and turned my attention to the scenery outside the window.

"She's the kind of woman you'd steal from me", I finally told her.

"Will I meet her?", Liz asked, handing me the pills I needed.

Blaze's power was strong, but luckily he had only burned a small portion of my hand. It would definitely leave a mark, but I didn't mind. Actually, a part of me almost enjoyed the pain he inflicted on me, which was something I tried to ignore. To distract myself, I focused on Liz instead.

"We'll see", I smiled back. "But enough about Scarlett. Are the drugs ready? We need to deliver them soon".

"No, not yet, Liz replied.

Her carefree attitude grated on my nerves, provoking a slow-burning anger that made my eyes narrow and my fists clench. I was torn between feeling let down and resentful as I fought to keep my emotions in check. The thought of Liz's neglect potentially affecting the success of our business only added fuel to the fire. I knew this initial irritation was just the beginning of a brewing storm.

"Finish them tonight", I said through my teeth, trying not to get angry.

"You're overthinking things, Cain," she said soothingly as she moved behind me and began to knead my tense shoulders. "I can assure you that everything will turn out just fine. I promise."

As her hands worked out the tension in my muscles, I felt myself start to relax. I tilted my head back and gazed at her, grateful for the calming effect she had on me.

"Are you planning on growing your hair out?", I asked, as I gently reached out to touch her hair.

"I figured it was worth a shot.", Liz smiled at me as she replied

"I really like it. I think it would suit you perfectly," I added. "But I should probably get going now. I promised her I'd meet up with her today."

I stood up and made my way to the door, listening to Liz's voice reminding me not to overexert myself. She was always full of good advice, but I never took it.

I reached the car, thoughts of what I needed to say to Scarlett racing through my mind. Kristopher should have already come clean about what happened last night. But knowing him, it's likely that he lied to her instead.

I reached into my pocket and took out my phone, dialing her number with a sense of urgency. To my disappointment, she didn't pick up. I redialed, hoping for a different outcome, but once again there was no answer. Concerned, I wondered if something was amiss or if she was intentionally ignoring me. Feeling defeated, I made one last attempt before giving up and tossing my phone on the seat next to me as I started the car and drove towards my coffee shop.

My hand was still causing me discomfort, but I refused to let it keep me at home. It would be boring no matter where I spent my time, and being stuck at home meant I couldn't even see Scarlett. My recent proposal to her was starting to seem like a mistake, especially when she didn't answer my phone calls. It was ridiculous how much her lack of response bothered me; it showed how dependent I had become on her. But realistically, she could be busy with work. Not everyone had the luxury of setting their own schedule. I glanced at my watch briefly - soon enough, Scarlett would be going on her lunch break.

I pulled up to a red light and felt my anxiety rise. I've always been the type to challenge authority, so following these laws made by the same privileged individuals who turned a blind eye to the struggles of the less fortunate was not something that came naturally to me. The system left me feeling frustrated and powerless.

I held a deeper disdain for those who only pretend to care about the well-being of others. Despite my disappointment, I never stopped holding onto the hope that one day my mother and I would live in happier times. When I was a child, I used to listen to an old radio, and it always made me happy to hear the government's announcements about upcoming financial assistance programs. However, it seemed that the same government that encouraged people to hold onto hope never actually provided them with any real help. My mother did her best to provide enough food for us each month, but it was never quite enough despite her efforts.

In the past, I would lay in bed with a rumbling stomach, yearning for a life where food wasn't a constant worry. Holding onto the belief that things would get better, I dreamed of a day when we wouldn't have to depend on broken promises from those in power.

As I glanced at the traffic light and saw that it had turned green, I proceeded on my way with thoughts of my mother weighing heavily on my mind. My heart ached for her, but deep down I knew she would disapprove of the person I had become. It was a harsh lesson to learn that in this society, being kind and giving others the benefit of the doubt doesn't get you very far. Despite my mother's teachings to "turn the other cheek" in all situations from a young age, I learned that sometimes standing up for yourself is necessary.

Navigating through the crowded city streets, I couldn't help but feel disillusioned. Life had taught me that people often took advantage of kindness and forgiveness, causing me to question the true nature of humanity. In my heart, I yearned for a world where my mother's lessons on compassion and empathy would be valued and adopted by all.

Frustrated, I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and suddenly felt disconnected from my surroundings. For hours, I thought about how different my life could have been if my mother hadn't passed away when I was only 6 years old.

Had my uncle been present to save her, my mother might still be alive today. The memories of her pain and suffering continued to plague me, adding to my already sour mood.

Lost in memories of my childhood, I made a left turn onto the main street and caught sight of the café in the distance. My desire to own a coffee shop had always been strong, ever since my days living in the suburbs with my mother. Our tiny, rundown apartment was directly across from a quaint little café. I would often spend hours gazing out the window, watching people enter and smelling the sweet scent of freshly baked muffins. The owner, an elderly lady, would occasionally slip me treats without my mother's knowledge. She only accepted them if they had already been paid for; my mother wouldn't have allowed anything else.

During my mother's working hours, I would spend time with an elderly woman and her pair of feline companions. When my mother passed away, it was this kind woman who taught me the basics of reading and writing. Unfortunately, she also eventually succumbed to old age, which opened my eyes to the fact that people are not immortal. Losing her felt like losing a second mother, and the grief lingered for a long time. I often struggled with feelings of guilt, questioning why I was still alive while those closest to me had left. My two furry friends provided comfort for a while, but they too eventually passed on.

The day the first one passed away, I set out to find a spot to lay her to rest. That same day, I discovered that I could take what I wanted and not face any repercussions. This newfound revelation expanded my horizons, as I realized I could satisfy my wants without facing any consequences.

For a brief moment, the exhilaration of theft was enough to numb the ache in my heart. It gave me a sense of authority and dominance, something I had never felt before. But even as I reveled in the rush, the hollowness inside me served as a constant reminder that no amount of stolen goods could ever truly heal the void left by my departed loved ones.

As I approached the coffee shop, a sense of relief washed over me. But that faded as soon as I noticed a police car parked in the lot. I had a suspicion as to why they were there, but it didn't calm my nerves. Unexpectedly, I saw Scarlett walking behind the officers, with Eric by her side. The decision to have him infiltrate the police force had definitely paid off. I decided to park further away and observe from a distance. Scarlett seemed confused and upset, fumbling with her phone. Eric attempted to talk to her, but she ignored him until he looked towards where I had parked the car. She glanced up from her phone, looked at him, and then followed his gaze towards me.

The surprise was written all over her face, but she remained still. I don't know why I thought she would come running towards me, but she didn't. She shifted her gaze back to Eric and then looked away, as if waiting for someone else.