This damn girl had just ruined years of work. The whole damn building, in tatters. Everyone had scattered, scared of this bloody little girl. I had a half a mind to shoot them all in their homes for that.

Now she stood over me, by some divine providence she’d been able to knock the gun out of my hand and force me to the ground. She hadn’t killed anyone yet and seemed to just sheepishly rush around the halls like she was playing hop-scotch. But as she winded up her arm with her staff, I thought for a second she might just cave my skull in.

Instead, she playfully bonked me on the head and declared pridefully, “There! Now don’t do bad things anymore!” … What?

How the hell had no one shot this stupid girl dead yet? I just got up, no resistance. She looked at me with a hopeful innocent little smile across her face and beaming eyes. She reminded me of someone, though I couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re just… gonna let me go? Why?” I broached.

“Well, what else would I do? I couldn’t kill you, silly boy. Then I’d be the bad guy! And I can’t send you to prism, what would you do in there? Someone would just take your place, and you’d never be able to make up for what you did. Go, and make up for what you did!”

I was speechless for a moment. She was trying so hard to sound adult, but I couldn’t ignore her accidentally calling it ‘prism’. It was… well it was adorable.

I frowned though, because I remembered who she’d reminded me of. My friend’s daughter, the little girl who didn’t understand what I did for a living. Poor little girl didn’t understand the intricacies of the drug world. And then she’d gone and become a witness to murder and threatened to go to the police. I hadn’t had any choice but to kill her.

The pistol, it was right by my feet. She wouldn’t see it coming, I could kill her so easily. But no, I couldn’t. Not again, not after she’d just told me to be better with all the innocence of a little daughter.

“Do you promise not to do bad things anymore?”

And with all the hope I’d ever seen swelling and overflowing in her gleeful expression, I said with a tear in my eye, “Yes. I do.”

And I just watched her waddle away contentedly. How had she overrun this whole place? Everyone just refused to fight her. Like some bloody spell she’d cast on them. But goddamn, it hurt to think about all the people I’d killed and tortured, for what? For all this accursed money. Too much for me to even spend, why was I still doing this?

I should stop, get out of this business. Make up for my sins, put some good into this world. I had enough money to retire 10 times over, I should spend some of it to make up for all the terrible crap I’ve done. Save some lives for a change.

Well damn, yeah.

I sort of sat there a while stunned. Eventually the others returned, a couple people who hadn’t been there and were ready to mock everyone who’d ran. But everyone seemed to have forgotten already, and were going about business as usual. A few of them came up to me, and started discussing work as normal.

I told them quite frankly that I was out. But they refused to believe me. I’d been in too long, in too deep. And I was too good. My name was engraved in the drug trade, I couldn’t just leave. I had to keep going.

I didn’t want to accept it, I told them I was going to leave as soon as I could, but they talked and talked and coaxed me into staying just until I ‘tied up all the loose ends’.

I decided to do something immediately, i couldn’t just keep going like normal for however long. So I drove straight over to one of my storage lockers where I hid my cash, not realising that my associates had planted a tracker on my car. I took it all and shoved it into the back of my car, then drove into the city, Googling local charities as I did so. But in doing so, I’d just scuffed up.

I was pulled over for reckless driving, and the police officer sussed out that something was wrong. He searched the boot, and found millions of dollars in cash. He of course placed me under arrest and took me to the police station.

There they seized the money and interrogated me. I considered just admitting everything, but no, that little girl was right. I’d just be replaced and I’d never be able to make up for what I’d done.

I had to stay there for a long time, as they put the screws to me to find out where the money had come from. Dozens of hours later, I was finally granted leave to go home and get some sleep. But my colleagues had noticed me arriving at the police station, and had now been watching for hours.

As the police drove me home, they waited until we came upon an empty stretch of road, and then shot the driver and accompanying officer dead. They took me out of the car and started covering up the scene, I saw it was just two young guys who’d been sent to do this.

The one still clutching a pistol came up to me and whispered, “Get out, let’s go!”

I stared back full of woe and dread. “What have you done? They were taking me home! You just killed two damn people!”

He glanced back, ataken, almost looking offended, “What? You’re yelling over two dead cops?”

I just shouted in rage “Of course I am you bloody nonce! You just killed two cops for no damn reason, and you don’t even care? These are people for God’s sake!”

Very well confused now, he explained to me, “What are you on about? You’re Clive Adams, I’ve heard so much about you, the most ruthless drug lord this side of the continent! The calculated relentless puppet master who controls this whole country with an iron fist!”

Oh god, this poor kid. He admired me, as some famous drug lord. I gave up and let him take me. I couldn’t let this go on, I couldn’t let someone replace me and continue to twist these young boys into admiring this trade.

The only way to end this for real was to keep going, and to slowly bring about the permanent end of this cycle of violence and corruption. So I agreed to stay in the business, so that never again a little girl would have to be killed by a drug lord.

Five years later and I’m still deep in it, and nothing has changed.