Sin City

Have you ever wondered if there's a world where murder is legal? Where taking a life is just another part of the day, like breathing or blinking — normal, expected. Well, it exists. They call it Sin City. It's not a prison, and it's far from a normal city. It's exile — a one-way trip to a place where no laws reach and no mercy remains. There are no guards, no rules, and no hope of escape. Once you're cast into this pit, you're erased from the world above. Dead to the living, forgotten by the system that threw you away. "Walk faster," the guy with a huge gun strapped across his chest said firmly, snapping me out of my thoughts. He wore a uniform, just like the others. I flinched and held onto my dad’s sleeve tighter. "f*****g low-lives," he muttered—loud enough for us to hear. None of us said a word. We just kept walking. I kept close to my dad, almost stepping on his heels with every step. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. My palms were cold and sweaty at the same time. Minutes dragged like hours until we finally reached the aircraft. One by one, we filed inside and took our seats. I couldn't help but scan the faces around me. People. All kinds of people. Or should I say... criminals? Some looked broken. Some looked dangerous. Some were innocent. Others were vicious—vile. "You shouldn't have come with me," I heard my dad mutter. It was the tenth time he'd said those exact words. I shouldn't have come. I should've stayed. But stayed where? I'm only thirteen. I have no one but him. What would I know about the world? I leaned my head against his arm for a moment before pulling away and looking out the window. I knew I would be miserable if I came with him, but I'd be more miserable if he left me behind. I could feel the vibrations through my body when the plane's engine roared to life. I didn't respond to my dad. I kept my gaze outside the window as the plane took off. I bit my lip hard, trying not to cry. I couldn’t cry here. The silence throughout the whole flight felt suffocating. It made my mind spiral. Maybe this is karma—my dad's karma, of course. It's his fault we're here. His fault that my so-called perfect life got f****d up. But I can't really put all the blame on him. I also benefited from everything he gave me. As my eyes wandered, someone caught my attention—a boy on the other side of the aisle. He looked scared—terrified, rather. Maybe he's just like me, caught in a mess we didn't create. After several hours, the plane landed. The guys in uniform escorted us as we got off. The escort part wasn't nice, if that's what you're thinking. They literally shoved us over and over, repeating the same words: "Walk faster." I clung to my backpack straps and stayed close to my dad, like sticking beside him would somehow keep me safe. I scanned the place. I could see the old buildings from afar; it looked like ancient ruins or something. "This place sucks," I mumbled to myself, but of course, my ever-gracious father had to respond. "I told you, you shouldn't have come," he whispered firmly, but just loud enough for me to hear. I rolled my eyes and quickened my pace, walking ahead of him. He should be grateful I didn't leave him behind. Even though my legs were shaky, I pretended to be brave. I had to. Once all of us had gotten off the plane, the guys in uniform gathered us together. "You already know why you're here," one of them said. "You can do whatever you want, and the government won't do a damn thing. 'Let the damned govern themselves,' they say." He chuckled at his own joke—if you could even call it that. Then he stopped laughing, scanned each one of us, and grinned. Here, survival is no longer a right — it's a blood-soaked privilege. And the only truth that matters is this: to live, someone else has to die. You don't get to choose peace. You only get two options — kill, or be killed. And the clock never stops ticking... "Welcome to Sin City." The words echoed like a curse. I didn't know it yet, but that was the last time I'd ever felt safe—even for a second.