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Some are born into wealth, others stumble into fortune, and some pass their days in pleasure, surrounded by beauty.
But Zakar's story was nothing like that.
He was brilliant, yes, but tragedy had stripped him bare. A ghastly accident had taken his parents, forcing him to survive alone long before he should have. To keep himself alive, he took a job at a busy supermarket. On his fourth day of work, everything changed.
"Everyone lie down!!" a masked man shouted at the top of his voice. He wore black clothes all through. Behind him were four other men in the same attire.
At the sound of the cold voice, everyone dropped to the floor. Their voices carried a wave intimidation. Faces pressed against the cold tiles as fear gripped the air. No one could guess what these men wanted in a supermarket!
Zakar sat at the corner listening to music with large headphones and was totally cut out from the world around him. He didn't seem to notice the presence of the masked people before him.
"Damn you!!'' a masked man exclaimed with anger. The other four men turned towards the centre of attention. They stared at Zakar in shock.
"This freak is trying to play the hero here. I'm gonna teach him a lesson."
The tallest one among them said and rushed towards him. Then he slid his hands into his pockets and brought out a sharp deadly pen knife.
Only then did Zakar notice. He looked up, saw everyone sprawled on the ground, and understood—robbery. But why here? Why a supermarket?
The blade shattered the table where Zakar's hand had just been. His chest tightened. That wasn't a warning strike—the man wanted blood. He yanked off his headphones, and the wails of children and women came crashing into his ears. His coworkers lay face down on the ground, trembling.
Zakar's pulse hammered. He didn't like surrender. Not without a fight.
A heavy shelving rod leaned near his feet. His eyes locked on it. If he used it well, it could crush skulls. But these men were bigger, stronger. If they took it from him, he'd be done.
The attacker lunged again. Zakar ducked, seized the rod, and swung upward with everything he had.
The blow slammed into the man's groin. Bone cracked. Muscles squeezed. He screamed and collapsed, writhing in agony.
Zakar didn't hesitate. He smashed the rod down on the man's skull.
Blood sprayed his face. Silence clung for a heartbeat, stunned.
Zakar snatched the fallen knife, his jaw clenched. "No guns," he muttered. "That makes it easier."
He hurled the blade. It spun true, burying itself in another robber's eye. The man shrieked, staggering as blood poured down his cheek.
"Kill him!" one of them shouted.
Two charged at once. Knives flashed like lightning. One sliced across Zakar's arm—hot pain seared him—but the other caught the rod full force across the skull. He dropped like a stone.
Zakar's vision blurred. His right arm bled freely. His breaths.
From behind him he caught a glimpse of another one and swung his weapon to slam against his head.
Blood splashed over his face as he smashed the rod against the head of the man again.
He got struck from behind. The attack was simple and calculated. The knife pierced into his heart and he could hear his heart beat slow its motion for a break.
He then fell to the floor as his right arm was beginning to bleed profusely. He hadn't expected this happen. At least not yet.
He was only doing this to impress one of the female cashiers here. He only wanted to find peace. But amidst everything he was beginning to understand the world.
From behind, he had been stabbed. Blood rushed steadily from his mouth and stomach. He placed his hands on his stomach in pain and crouched on the ground.
"Dumbass. Why did he have to fight? Now his stupidity has caused his death. Serves him right. Fool."
Zakar looked up and even though he could not see as his vision was now blurred, he could recognise the voice of the person he cared for. His crush . The one person he had done this crazy act for.
Life was brutal as he always noted. There was no such thing as peace. Peace was only an illusion of the weak and stupid. It was a daydream of the naive and that was what he was.– A weak naive and stupid guy with no thought and plan about the future.
Just as he lay there he thought he heard something or he did hear something. A beep or no a laughter or perhaps words of someone.
His eyelids snapped shut in death. The last thing he heard from the outside world were the cries and screams of the masses. But all that didn't matter to him. He was dead and totally cut out from the outside world.