The First

The singular rickety lightbulb that hung overhead in the dope den flickered between off and on as the moths flocked to it. I rubbed my eyes as I emerged from the darkness I'd been lying in, atop the dirty floor-bound mattress. Once my pupils finally adjusted to the unstable light, I could see that a picture with some writing in the bottom corner was being held up in front of my face. It was a boy. He was nineteen years old. His name was Owen Kress.

"Yes. You have to kill him."

Gulp.

When I saw him, time slowed to a stop. He looked so happy. His smile was perfect. He seemed like the type of guy anybody would die to be friends with. However, in my case it would be the exact opposite. He would die because I would befriend him.

The words played in my mind over and over again. "You... kill..."

I was only seventeen, but spending time in the streets of West Adams and Lincoln Heights meant I had long since grown accustomed to seeing brutal death and violence. Regardless, I'd never been the one behind the weapon.

I felt myself getting dizzy and had only replied with a faint, "What?"

"Look, this isn't something for Rizzo to do. You're perfect. You're the right age; you have the right look. He won't suspect a thing. It's either you kill him, or we send you as our ploy into GE to have yourself killed. You know I don't want to see that happen."

I fully believed him. I've seen firsthand what all these guys can do, and I'd do whatever it took not to be on the other side of any of it. I knew I truly was being faced with the decision to keep my life or make an innocent boy lose his.

I was given the information that I was supposed to kill him in retribution for the fact that one of his friends, Nate, was involved with Grey Eleven, a rival group that had been recently threatening our drug sales. Our boss didn't want to directly murder Nate, due to having plans of recruiting him to our group after the killing had been carried out. This Nate guy was apparently slinging all the way to Detroit, and Mitch wanted to capitalize on his fear to control him for our benefit. Chances are, Owen didn't even know about Nate's involvement with Grey Eleven.

Mitch was the kingpin of our pack. He was the organizer and streetwise businessman. Mitch had found me in an alley when I was fourteen and flashed me about four million reasons why it would be in my best interest to join him. Being starved and desperate, I recognized that it was quite possibly my only hope of survival, no matter how skewed, so I accepted.

Rizzo was the goon who usually 'took people out' at Mitch's first command. Darnell helped Rizzo on occasion, but for the most part he was 'The Locator,' and his job was to track down innocent people whom we could terminate in order to warn and scare off the person who was actually threatening our business. AKA, Darnell was the one who had scoped out Owen Kress.

Tobias was the one who got the drugs for our sales, and only he and God knew where he really got those.

And then there was me: Elena. "Chance" on the streets.

I was 'The Face,' as Mitch called me: tall, pretty, and young with the ability to be seductive in order to get the cash we need. What I learned to do very quickly was reel the customers in. Mitch always said that he had the feeling it wasn't the drugs our usuals were addicted to; it was me. I was the only girl in our posse, and the guys had made me a pretty nice life for what it was worth. Sure, everything about the way we lived was illegal, but I wasn't dead yet. For that, I owed them. Unfortunately, repaying them this debt sometimes came with heavy consequences... but somehow I'd never imagined I'd be given this heavy of a task.

My answer was being impatiently awaited, so I had to quickly assess my options. Did I want to die or just to kill this boy? I had finally come to grips with an answer for myself and simply mumbled a selfish "Okay. I'll do it."

I sat with an uneasy feeling in my stomach and tinges of guilt for weeks until the day came. Everything had been set into perfect motion; all I had to do was go to the mall and wait for the poor guy to show up at his job. I scoped out the scene and waited what felt like another set of ages, yet found myself wishing for more time when I saw the exact person from the photo I'd been shown round the corner. My breath halted, and the air around me stiffened. That was him. He walked into American Eagle and went behind the counter. I had found my guy.

I followed behind, entering the store just a mere couple of minutes after him. I acted as if I was simply perusing the racks until I looked up and noticed that he was looking at me. Perfect positioning. I smiled as I walked over to the counter.

"Are you finding everything okay?" Owen smiled as I propped my head up on the counter with my arms.

"Much better, now that I've seen you," I winked with a giggle.

"Alright, alright. You're bold. I like that. I'm Owen, but you probably already know that," he said, gesturing to the small pin on his shirt.

I knew his name already, yes...but that wasn't why or how.

"Cute name, I'm Chance," I smiled. This didn't feel like any of my normal clients. Then again, though, I had never had the pressure of knowing I'd be responsible for their murder before.

"Cute name," he copied my words, adding a small chuckle. "So, are you from LA or just visiting? What's the story?" he asked, eager to get into conversation with me.

I was about to answer with full lies, of course; I couldn't tell him who I really was or what I was doing. Suddenly, a customer came up to the counter, and Owen said, "Hold on, lemme ring this up real quick."

I nodded and studied him as he rang up the girl's items and gave her the total due. He was about 5'11. He had jet-black hair, gorgeous green eyes, black studded earrings, and a few tattoos. I had always wanted a tattoo, but Mitch had said I couldn't get one because it would make my body look like a cheap tramp's, and no men would want to come to see me anymore. He had told me it would make me unattractive, so I obliged to his commands as if the choice were actually mine either way. Owen finished with the customer and turned back to me at the other side of the counter.

"What were you going to say?" he asked.

"Oh, right," I laughed slightly. "Uh, just that I'm originally from Oklahoma, but my parents didn't like it there, so we moved here. My dad got a promotion, which caused another family move to Indiana, but I didn't want to leave because I loved it here so much. I was already 18, so I just decided to stay behind. My parents and sister moved away. So, here I am in the great Los Angeles! All on my own," I smiled. I had gotten too good at lying.

"Cool! So how old are you now?" he asked, leaning down so that his head was propped up on his hand.

"18 still, 19 in a couple months."

He nodded. Another lie; I was 17, and my 17th birthday had just passed.

"So, what about you?" I asked.

"What about me?" he smiled.

"You made me tell you about myself, so now it's your turn. Who is Owen?" I repeated my question.

"Oh. Well, I'm from Arizona, I'm 19, and I moved out here to pursue my singing career better. I have a sister named Lauren, and she's my best friend; I couldn't ask for a better sibling. My career hasn't grown much yet, but that's okay! -- it will. I'm still young; I like to think I have time left." He paused.

"Good enough?" he slyly questioned.

"Good enough.", I wink back with a smile.

I could never kill this boy.

The warm energy radiating from him wouldn't even allow me to question it.

I didn't know what I was going to do; I didn't want to die, but I couldn't kill him either. My guys had made me tough, but not tough enough for this.

He laughed slightly, and I took it as an opportunity to say my goodbye.

"Well, Owen, it was great talking to you, but I ought to be going now," I said.

"Same to you, Chance. See you around," he replied, nodding.

"Bye!" I waved sweetly, still smiling.

I was almost out the door when, "Wait, Chance!" I turned around to see Owen in front of me again.

"Could I… get your number?" he asked.

If only I had a phone.

"I—uh...I actually don't have a phone right now. Mine broke. I'm sorry."

'Right now'. Try ever.

Mitch didn't allow anybody in the den a cellphone besides himself, and his was strictly business. We all understood though, we couldn't risk being tracked.

"Oh...", his smile dropped. He probably thought I was lying and uninterested.

"Wait! Could I give you my roommate's number? He lets me borrow his when I need it until I’m able to afford my own, ya know. Phones are pretty expensive," I tried to make sure he didn't think I was lying.

"Okay. Well, it's definitely better than nothing," he said as he smiled and handed me his phone to type the number in.

I didn't live in an apartment, and there was no roommate. Mitch had a phone, so I typed in his number under the contact of 'Chance :)' and handed the phone back to Owen.

"Thanks," Owen sent me a warm smile, and I walked out of the store completely as he went back to his position behind the counter.

How was I supposed to do this?

I cannot do this. I can't kill him.

I didn't know what I was going to do. Neither did he.

Owen was such a genuinely nice guy. He was so unsuspecting and innocent. I could never do this.

Owen wasn't even the threat to us. It was just some people a friend of his was involved with, after all. I didn't want to kill anyone.... but if I had to, why not one of them?

After he told me about his sister, I thought about my own.

Her name was Anna, and she was three years older than me. But once Dad—Steven, rather—lost his job, she was gone. She said she was moving to Colorado to make a better life for herself, and I haven't caught a glimpse of her a second since. Heather, who was my mother solely by birth and nothing else, didn't care any more than the man in the moon about me or my sister. To make matters even worse, she lost her job two months after Steven did.

Steven died later that year, then Heather committed suicide. Suddenly, I was by myself. In a morbid kind of way, sitting in the silence that was left after these events was admittedly the nicest I'd felt in a while. It didn't last long, though. Mitch had found me, and I'd been thrust back into constant action.

Nevertheless, I started thinking about how alone I felt when Anna left me. Now, I would be making this sister of his feel exactly how I did. I would be the reason, and I couldn't even stop it from happening.

At least, not if I wanted to keep my own life.

And selfishly, I did.

I'm back to our den before I even realize it. I did our secretive knock and was let in.

"Woah, back already? That was a quick one," Mitch slurred from the poker table in the corner.

"Um, actually...", I dreaded finishing my sentence. "Actually, I'm not sure why, but Owen never showed up...", I lied.

I'm convinced my lie succeeded when Mitch just slurs, "Don't ever use his name, darling. He's nothing but dead to us; he's good as bones. That's what his name is, Bones." He laughed, then he motioned for Rob to pass over the joint they were smoking. Even if my lie had been as opaque as a glass windowpane, Mitch wouldn't have known. He was high out of his mind right now.

"Elena, oh honey, come smoke with us," Tobias mumbled out in barely recognizable English. Definitely more than just weed. He took the joint back from Mitch and held it out.

"No thanks, I'm good," I said with a thumbs-up as I started to head out for a walk alone. While I was closing the door, I heard Darnell say a slick, "You always are."

He was right; I had never done any of it. I just helped sell the vile stuff.

Correction—my body helped sell the vile stuff.

I just didn't want to end up like Steven. I also never wanted to marry someone like him and end up on the other side of it, like Heather.

I tried to think of other things on my walk, like how poor my family life was, but my eyes just kept seeing the same thing. My brain just kept repeating the same thing. It all came back to the same spot.

Back to Owen Kress. I didn't want to put him in harm, but I didn't want to find myself in danger either.

One of us did have to be in it, though.

I couldn't call the police and turn on my guys. They were the closest thing I had to any family whatsoever. Besides that point, if I did call the police and they found out, I would be labeled as a traitor. They would definitely kill me and run, and even if they were caught, they'd arrange for a 3rd party to take me out. Regardless, it just wasn't something I could realistically get away with. What phone would I use to call the authorities with anyway?

Phone.

I needed to go sneak Mitch's phone while I could. I wanted to talk to Owen. I needed to talk to Owen.

I reverted my body and sneaked back inside to search for the phone. It was on the counter by the sink. I made the diversion that I was out looking at flowers and some sticky dew got on my hands, so I needed to wash them.

"Always picking those damn flowers. Always trying to be a ray of sunshine.," Rizzo drunkenly muttered.

I rolled my eyes and walked out. Not many comments from the guys phase me much anymore. I'm used to it. When I was new and fourteen, it was so much worse.

The four of them had never laid a finger on me themselves, but it was impossible to deny the pure hunger in each of their eyes when they looked at me.

It didn't take long for the guys to work their system out: the more drugs you buy, the more time with me you get. Awful, I know, but who am I to do anything about any of it? My role in all of this was to just be grateful I hadn't starved to death yet.

I grabbed the phone and I walked for about three minutes so I would have enough distance from the guys. I walked a little faster and farther until I got to a high point in the land. I liked to call it my safe haven. I just liked to lie there and forget about it all. Just lie down and be safe.

I looked at the phone's clock. 6:43. I wondered what time Owen got off of work. I wondered what it was like to have a real job. I wondered what it was like to have a normal life.

I was wondering for some time, as evidence showed when I looked back at the time and it read 7:37. For almost an hour I had been here, sitting in the wind, just wondering.

Wondering and wandering. Those were my hobbies.

A noise startled me until I recognized it as the ringtone of Mitch’s phone.

"Chance! Hey! This is Owen, from the mall," he spoke cheerily.

God, I could never…

"Oh, hey, Owen! What's up?" I tried to fake the normal teen girl act as well as I could.

"Not much, you?"

"Nope. Not really," I chuckled.

"Wow. The life of teens is such a wild one, am I right?" he laughed into the line.

If only you knew. "Oh, I know," I said as monotonously as I could, trying to make him see that I agreed with him through the speaker. He chuckled momentarily and then spoke.

"Hey, so I was just wondering, am I going to see you back in the store again anytime soon?"

"Not sure... I'm kind of broke right now, you know?"

You're always broke, Elena. No, Owen doesn't know. He will never know like you do.

"Aren't we all?" he laughed a small laugh, and then someone—his sister?—could be heard talking to him. "Yeah, Lo, I'm coming. Just wait half a second," he said.

Yeah. It was his sister.

"Sorry, Chance. I have to go... Talk soon, okay?" his voice echoed through the speaker.

"Okay," I said with a smile, although he couldn't see it. 'I'd hoped he could hear it.

"Alright," he said as he hung up.

And then the line was dead.

And I went back to wondering.

How did I end up in this life, and more importantly, how do I get out of it?

But perhaps most important of all—how was I supposed to save myself and Owen?