I Woke Up With A System

1

In a cramped apartment, a young man was getting dressed, ready for a new chapter. He scooped up his battered suitcase and dashed out the door, just in time to meet the cab he’d booked. Today was supposed to be his day—finally, an office job of his own.

For the last three years, he’d been a pizza delivery guy. The job wasn’t glamorous, but it got him by. Yesterday marked his third year, and the company kept its promise: a big promotion plus a salary jump that tripled his pay. He’d been making $400 a month, a little more with tips from kind folks; that just about kept him afloat.

His name is Ethan. He’s nineteen, tall, and an orphan, trying hard for a simple, decent life—anything better than what his parents had, and a far cry from how they died. He dreamed of growing old, leaving an inheritance for his own kids and, hopefully, a wife—if he was lucky.

So, yeah, today was supposed to be good. He’d just spent $50 on a new, cheap suit and a couple of accessories. It wasn’t fancy, but it fit him well, making his long frame look sharp.

He hopped into the cab, heart pounding, and stared out the window. The taxi pulled up outside a tall, glass building that looked way too good for pizza delivery. He adjusted his tie and headed inside, where he found Shelly at the front desk. She always had a smile for him.

“Hey, Shelly,” he called out, grinning.

She raised her eyebrows. “Someone’s looking sharp! Congrats in advance. Don’t forget my celebratory drink.” Shelly was sweet, friendly, and one of the few people at work he actually liked. Besides her, there was Victoria—his girlfriend, the person he trusted most. Ethan had plans for Victoria: a proposal, a house, maybe even a car someday. They’d only dated for a few months, but they were close. He checked his watch. Still early—just before seven. Way ahead of the official start.

He waved goodbye to Shelly and took the escalator up. When he hit the second floor, everything broke.

He froze. Just ahead, a woman in a tight suit and short skirt was locked in a kiss with a guy. And not just any woman—Victoria. His girlfriend.

The pain came on sharp. His gut twisted, fingers numb. The suitcase slipped from his hand and crashed to the ground. The two of them turned to look at him.

The guy with Victoria smirked, cold as ice. “If it isn’t the biggest loser,” he sneered.

Ethan knew that face. The pain ratcheted up.

Lawrence Luther. Son of a powerful businessman. Ethan and Lawrence went to school together, where Lawrence made Ethan’s life a living hell. Bullying, homework, chores—Ethan had tried to get help, but the teachers sided with Lawrence instead. School pushed him out, so he found work wherever he could until O&M hired him.

Lawrence wrapped an arm around Victoria’s waist and pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest, shooting Ethan a nasty, satisfied smile.

Ethan’s heart crumpled. Nothing had hit him like this—betrayed by the person he trusted most, haunted by someone who’d made his early life hell.

Lawrence laughed. “He’s the loser you told me about? The one who couldn’t cough up ten grand for a designer bag? Come on, Victoria, he’s not worth your time.”

Ethan just stood there, lost, watching his dream day curdle into a nightmare.

Lawrence signaled to two burly guys in suits. They moved fast. One kicked the suitcase, spilling everything. The other drove his foot into Ethan’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the ground. Ethan gasped, choking on blood. The beating didn’t stop.

Lawrence looked back, grinning. “Come on, don’t you feel sorry for your ex?”

Victoria shrugged, curled into Lawrence. “He’s not my ex. He just kept the other broke boys away. The only man who can handle me is you, babe.” She smiled up at him.

Ethan, bloody and hurting, glanced around. Two coworkers looked on but did nothing.

He tried to get up, but one of the men drew a gun with a silencer and shot him in the chest. A sharp, fresh bolt of pain. Lawrence stood over him. “You’ll always be a loser. Your girl’s mine now.”

He called for the manager. The O&M manager came running—overweight, balding, glasses slipping down his nose. When he saw Lawrence, he bowed low, fawning.

Lawrence nodded toward Ethan, who was still on the floor, gasping for breath. Hands swollen, suit torn and bloodied, chest on fire.

“Get rid of him. I don’t want any bad luck stinking up this place,” Lawrence snapped.

The manager ordered the men to throw Ethan out. They dragged him and his ruined suitcase outside like trash, dumping him onto the pavement. People passing by just stared or turned away. No one helped.

Back inside, tempers flared. Shelly stood up for Ethan and wound up fired too. Furious, she stormed out, found Ethan bleeding on the street, called an ambulance, and rode with him to the hospi

tal. Whatever else happened, at least he wasn’t alone.