SCAR

Scar

The Brobdingnagian roads were all empty and vast, the never-ending routes and streets were all shut down and locked as it was still too early for the residents to get to their feet and work. The roads were all damp, the water gathered still in the puddles, as it ran down the drain to the sidewalks. The pleasant smell of petrichor was all enticing to the deep breaths one took. The musky barky smell of after rain was all one could inhale all along, as the sun peeked out from the far east of the huge mountains that were vague to the eyes, hiding behind the thick layers of curtains of clouds.

It was still drizzling, the sound calming to the mind, a soothing lullaby, the melody enchanting the early risers, blessing them with its pitter-patter.

The world was silent, as silent as one would prefer. The sun was coming along the horizon. The sunlight rousing solid colors, hues of sharp orange and bright yellow now taking over the world, dominating the blue that was yet to subside above the thickness of black clouds. As drizzle took its leave, the clouds now moving along, as the sun shone above brightly.

Scar jogged along the sidewalk, fully consumed in his own reverie, his slow yet firm steps padded down on the concrete. Cladded in a black tracksuit, a sweatshirt underneath the jacket. Too indulged in the solitude the world was providing like always and every day, he felt like the owner, the ruler. The same old path, the same old shops, the same old houses, were his providers. it was no agitation for him to walk down the same old route he used every day. It brought him comfort, his very city was his comfort. The roads, shops, houses and most of all the people of here were welcoming.

The calmness that was provided was enough for him to have a small smile on his face. The soothe that was emerging from deep within the atmosphere, was all plenty to quieten the chaos in his mind. The jog since forever was a balm, the peace it brought was enough to chase away his demons of the night, his nightmares.

It smelt of the ocean, as the wind hissed past him, the all quiet world way too appealing. Time far away from the buzzing of machines, hustle-bustle of people at the markets. Traffic jamming along the road. The breeze mild, yet still had the power to tremble a man, but he was far too numb to feel. He was engrossed in the melancholic thoughts that were way too heavy, burdening him since forever. The dark visions were all too engraved on the back of his mind.

The neverending long wide road finally came to an end at the last building standing. He jogged along the path, up to the hard pavement than to the steps leading to his apartment, which he never got to make a home, it had nothing that can be called homely.

He always came to his place cold and unattended. There were many reasons why even he had no furniture and no family to look up to when he came back.

Warmth, warmth was something unfamiliar to him. Something foreign and something he didn't want himself to succumb to.

It had been like this for ages, since the last he remembered of his mother.

Mother, his family, someone he knew won't be there in the kitchen making his favorite lasagna or waiting for him on the small balcony of his house. The house he grew up in.

Scar was never fond of affection and that was the only reason why he kept his sister, his only remaining family at an arm's distance too.

He still had plenty of time before he opened his rented restaurant in one of the shops outside the building.

He needed a place and had to look his best, lest his cover gets busted. He knew he was on his own in the familiar yet so unfamiliar part of the city.

Despite the team of guards one call away, he still felt like no one was there for him. He had been trained to stay alone all his life with a bastard of a father absent from their lives and a mother who succumbed to the bitter reality and gave herself away to God. Maybe it was his fate to remain unloved his entire life.

Love, love and he never got on well. When he loved the idea of having a father, his father abandoned them, when he loved his mother from all his heart, she selfishly deserted him, and when he loved his baby sister, he knew he couldn't clip her wings and instead handed her a wad of cash and freed her from the shackles of their haunted city. The city that clawed at their souls trying to drag them back to where they started all.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he shoved the door of the empty fridge close and fished it out.

It was his landlord.

"Jack you better give me the rent or find somewhere else to rot." It was the nasty voice of his landlord and just wanted to snap his neck in two.

Money was not a problem, not after he joined the dirty Mafia. It flowed like money down his bank account since the ripe age of nineteen. And at the age of twenty-one, he could have had his own million-dollar mansion but he chose not to waste the money. Like he was trained not to. He was never a miser but the habit of spending with a budget stayed with him.

He wanted to throw money at that fucker's face but he just could not do that and seemed suspicious, and settled on listening to his shitty remarks about how someone lousy like him crashed his apartment.

"I'll give it to you by tomorrow night." He cut the call.

He just had limited access to cash and could not go around spending on everything he deemed necessary.

He had to be careful with what little savings he had.

After all, he was once again on a mission, a mission to find out about the French Mafia. A mission Rafe Ale Marcello had passed down to him.

And he couldn't let down the only man who saved him from collapsing in this horrendous world.