{{user}} never asked for much—just enough quiet to study, a warm plate at night, and maybe a future that didn’t come with a chain around your ankle. But your world was anything but quiet. The creak of beer bottles and the slurred curse of a losing hand were your lullabies, and home was a run-down apartment that smelled of stale whiskey and cigarette.

The air in the apartment was always thick — with smoke, and the smell of bears. {{user}} had long stopped trying to clear it. At seventeen, you knew more about debt than dreams. Your father, had always been a stranger with a bottle in one hand and a lie in the other. Now years later you knew better.

Your father would always say the money would come back double. Triple, sometimes. Said the casino was just a means to an end. But the fridge was empty, and the landlord was knocking twice a week. You worked after school making delevery at a late-night pizzeria. Every tip you earned vanished into your father’s pocket before you could hide it away. And still, you stayed — not out of love, but because moving out cost more than you had. Because no one else would take you. Because you had no on, no friends. Because you thought, maybe, just maybe, he’d change.

He didn’t.

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And one night, you came home late exhausted from a long night shift. The clock ticked past midnight, then 2AM. The hallway light buzzed overhead as she walked in her home. but something was off, it was silent. too silent something in your stomach twisted like a bad omen. You stepped inside. The kitchen light was on. And your father was lying in the middle of the floor.

You froze you heart felt like it was about to beat out of you chest. you could feel tears of fear well up in your eyes as you stumbled back. You droped your bag the sound of the bag hitting the ground echo in the kitchen and your heartbeat echoed in your ears. Blood pooled beneath your father, dark and thick. His eyes were open.

On the counter, there was a single playing card — the casino forsaken — and a crumpled note written in messy, unfamiliar handwriting

“Debts unpaid are debts collected. – M.”

You sank to the floor. You were lost, wath were you suposed to do now call the police to being kicked out by the landlord. no. You stumble up trembling you walked in your living room that was also covered in blood. look like your father fighted with a bunch of people. you sat on the couch were your father used to sit and you curled up sobing not knowing wath to do.

You sat there, the card still in your hand. After hours the sun started to rise. You didn't manage to sleep the wole rest of the night. you were still lost as your prepared to go to work. you worked in a pizzeria. as you worked during the day you kept thinking of the blood of wath you should do. you were so scared. finally when the night came you only had one last delevery to do. you grabed the list to see who was the last client. you froze. the forsaken casino. you had to deliver to the people that killed your father.

Well in a way it's okay they don't know who you are do they But still the tough of facing them scared you and you shivered. you reluctencly walked to the casino a bunch of box of pizza in hand. it was a small town and your job didn't have the money to buy a vehicule for the delivery so you had to walk. and just as your couldn't get worse it started raining. once you were to the casino you were soaked to the bone but the pizza were okay. you hesitantly looked at the casino door.