1 Chapter One - Violent Oppression

Standing tall and proud on my apartment roof, I looked down at the chaos beneath my feet which I had carelessly slumped closer to the edge. I watched as a well-known gang, The Roses, identifiable by their deep red jackets, black jeans and the thick metal chains they usually wrapped around their hands. They were just one of the seven that rose to power in Sobury and began tossing Molotov cocktails at the passing cars. I clutched at my notebook, tattered by the wear we had both been through; inside, I had scribbled down everything about the gangs I could find. Everything from their bases to their routes were all inside.

Running my hand through my greasy blonde hair, I thought, 'Man, this place truly has gotten worse since you left, mum.'

Glancing around at my rather harsh reflection on the ground, I let my glossy blue eyes search for a good memory of my mother in them, but I found nothing. Not even a single memory of learning to ride a bike or even something as simple as her putting me to bed crossed my mind. So I glanced away, sorrow filling my heart and always just when I thought I'd become accustomed to the pain, it came back to haunt me again.

Without so much sound, I drifted off, picturing my family and hoping for a better tomorrow, putting aside the carnage on the streets that run rampant.

"At least I'd be able to sleep peacefully now, once the moonlight breaks through the cloudy skies," I told myself as I climbed the fire escape and returned to the small space I had called my room.

It was a rusty, dilapidated loft, cluttered and old, with cobwebs and the litter of last year's fire, barely big enough. The wear and tear of the day finally broke through; my eyes grew heavy as I walked swiftly to my rucksack, dug inside for the antidepressants I stole earlier today, and took a double dose. "Hopefully, when the sun rises again, things will return to normal," I told myself.

I settled sluggishly on the mattress, which looked like it had been a resting place for rats. I sighed, noticing the cold brush against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I glanced at the doll in the dusty corner, which looked like it was sent back from the abyssal realms, so tattered and ill-kept. It had been with me for most of my journey, gifted to me by my father - the man who ran away after leaving me in a bloody pulp on the floor when I was thirteen. Honestly, the doll was my only friend out here.

I gently stroked her faded yellow dress, wondering if she would last through the rest of my journey down this forsaken street and to the wall that surrounded us, keeping back the criminals from the rest of the world. I found it strange how our society would discard the 'bad' boys into a place where they could do whatever they wanted to improve the world.

I let my eyes slowly close as the drug took effect and drifted into the realm of sleep.

I came to with a sudden burst of cold, wet fluid being thrown on my face; I had been found.

"Look what we have here, boys!" One of the men yelled. I recognised his group anywhere - their bright blue shirts were a clear sign of the Phantoms, a little-known gang, but even so, they gained power by the day.

"Why, boys, he has a little doll with him!" Another called. I scrambled to my feet and took guard, my fists protecting my face. I could feel the loose dirt under my feet as it kicked up around the room in my haste.

My heart in my throat, time seemed slower than usual. I felt an object thrown into the air behind me and soon after crashing down onto my head, causing me to fall to the floor. I could feel the toe of someone's boots kick me in the stomach, winding me and rendering my training useless.

We were told in the Police Academy that this was the gang's favourite method, along with the giant sledgehammer. I covered my head as the blows became more frequent and began coughing up blood between strikes. Pain unlike anything I had ever known seemed to envelop my every thought, and I accepted my fate with no viable way out.

A large member lowered himself to my level, looking into my eyes.

"I think it's time for the sledgehammer!" He whispered at me whilst grinning his teeth which were stained yellow. For a split second, the gang had turned their backs whilst they waited, and I knew it was now or never. I rose as quietly as possible, reached for my bag with one hand, and grasped my doll in the other. I glanced around, looking for a swift exit, but a slim young woman blocked the door, and so was the fire escape.

'Shit!' I thought, spinning around with haste. However, the dirty floor let out a subtle squeak that was loud enough for them to hear.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?" The large man asked, grabbing me by the collar of my torn shirt and lifting me high off the ground.

With fear engulfing me, my instincts flew into play. I raised my hands and pressed my thumbs into his eyes forcefully, not relenting no matter how much blood began flowing from his sockets; the room began to fill with his deep screams of pain.

"Somebody do something!" Called the skinny girl covering the door, but nobody moved an inch. His pains grew louder and louder, and I prayed he would let me down so I could escape, but instead, he launched me into a near-wall with such force that a small blood stain was left from the impact on my head.

With my vision blurred, I could barely make out the man running toward me or the large man swinging his arms around in his blind rage. Guessing my timings, I ducked underneath his swinging arm and pushed him into the wall where I was thrown. Without a second thought, I knew I had to leave; I threw my rucksack onto my back and headed for the narrow glass window, which was still layered over with lace curtains giving me just enough aperture to slide out with my rucksack's help freely.

I came crashing onto the cold street and watched as the gang members looked down at me. Then, finally, the gang's mouth escaped a sweaty, mad message: "We will find you swine! And when we do, we are going to kill you!"

And with that vile message, I bolted down the street as fast as my legs would carry me, ensuring as much distance as possible from them and forcing myself to get closer than ever to the freedom on the other side of the wall.