Where the City Bleeds
The Train Station
The cold bit through my jacket as I waited on the platform, the harsh winter wind pushing against me like a warning.
I kept my eyes on the tracks, pretending I wasn’t afraid.
Cassiel Corleone
It’s cold.
Then he appeared — taller than most, with a crooked smile and eyes that carried stories I couldn’t begin to understand.
He said, voice rough but not unkind.
I swallowed hard.
We stood there in silence, the hum of the arriving train shaking the ground beneath us.
He asked, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers.
Cassiel Corleone
Yes. Just moved.
I said, watching the smoke curl into the cold air.
He nodded, like he knew exactly what that meant — being lost, trying to find your place.
Cohen Ysoleon
You’re Cassiel, right?
Cassiel Corleone
How’d you know?
Cohen Ysoleon
Word gets around.
That was the first time I saw the edge in his eyes — the danger lurking just beneath the surface.
The Sound
Cohen led me through the tangled streets, the city’s cold neon signs flickering overhead.
We stopped in front of The Sound — a battered old bar blasting punk and rock, a refuge for the lost.
Cassiel Corleone
The Sound…
Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and cheap perfume.
Faces blurred in the dim light, voices raised over the pounding music.
Cohen Ysoleon
This is where it all happens.
He said, eyes scanning the crowd like a hunter.
I felt out of place, like an intruder looking for a way in.
Then he pulled me deeper inside.
Cohen Ysoleon
Everyone here’s got their demons.
I watched as a girl passed a small bag to a boy, hands shaking. I didn’t understand, but I felt the pull — the desperate need to belong, to escape.
Cohen caught my gaze and smiled, sharp and unreadable.
Cohen Ysoleon
Stick with me, and you’ll be fine.
First Use
The night smelled like rain and lost chances. Cohen handed me a cigarette — nothing special, he said.
I hesitated, but the heat of the crowd, the beat of the music, and his steady gaze pushed me forward.
Cassiel Corleone
This is—
I inhaled, coughing on the smoke that burned my throat.
Cassiel Corleone
I heard you laugh. It’s not funny.
Cohen Ysoleon
It’s just the start.
He laughed again, shaking his head, voice low.
I watched as he lit up something else — a thin paper rolled tight, burning slow.
Cassiel Corleone
What’s that?
Cohen Ysoleon
Just something to help the pain.
That night, I took a step I couldn’t take back.
The music throbbed in my chest, heavy and unrelenting. Cohen’s eyes were locked on mine, steady but unreadable.
Cohen Ysoleon
Just one time. I’ll be right here. Come with me to the restroom.
My hands shook as he pulled a small syringe from his pocket.
Cassiel Corleone
This is…
I swallowed hard, the weight of everything — fear, loneliness, hope — crashing down all at once.
Cassiel Corleone
This is drugs, right?
Cohen Ysoleon
We call it H. Wanna try?
I nodded, barely able to speak.
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