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I shoved him down to the ground and he fell over. His head hung of the edge of the cliff. I bent down and smashed my fist into his face. Blood spewed from his mouth and he cough up more blood. I punched him again and again until he was dead.  As i landed my last punch blood sprayed onto my face from a large bruise above his cheek. He lay there still and motionless until I pushed his body of the cliff onto whatever lay below before jumping of myself. Wind whipped my face and my tie was plastered against my body as I fell down.... Ferax sat next to his daughter, April, enjoyed the rather violent movie being broadcasted worldwide on TV. He stood up at the unmistakable sound of his phone ringing. He stood up and walked toward his bedroom. He picked the small rectangular device before answering the call. "Hello Ferax," I said in a soft calm voice. "Do you love your daughter?" "Yes, of course," Ferax whispered, trembling. "Well," I said, ...

The man stood at the edge of the steep cliff. It curved outwards such that it was 'bent over' for the man to stand on it. He was young and muscular,his blond hair tossed to one side. His hands drowned in his deep pockets as he huffed furiously, yet waiting patiently for the Client to arrive. He wore a black leather jacket which waved in the wind. A muscle bulged out and the jacket was curved over his bicep. This particular man, Chris was in no way stronger than the Client. Although he had a sinewy build and could subdue 5 trained men armed with submachine guns with the disadvantage of being unarmed, he was nervous. He had never met the Client before though he had carried out many jobs for him. He didn't even know whether it was a man or a woman but due to the respect and power of the Client, he presumed it was a man. Chris was an important member of the Company, an organisation that carried out jobs for the Client from murdering people in a rather harsh and violent manner ...

Taylor blew her hair out of her face, blackened by the grime and the dirt that had collected on her face for days. There inhumane lifestyle also included a rule that stated that showers would only be provided once a week that to with cold water. She dared not lift her hands of the piece of cloth or her focus, off the work-table. She gripped the cloth and held it out to her right where the child-worker at the different type of machine worked on the cloth Taylor had given him. It had been about a month since she had first arrived here and had gotten used the habit of waking up early to work and the stench of the sweat and all other things on other people's bodies in her room including herself. So far there was no way out. Everyday was the same, bland, exhausting routine of waking up early by the clanking sound of pots and pans. A meal of sour milk and expired cornflakes was 'breakfast'. Then work began. From morning to evening children worked and worked, trying to make clo...

"Welcome Taylor Hayes", he said," to the real world. Please don't try escaping for using violent ways to subdue my men. That may result in your death or injury or maybe torture. This is what we like to call 'the Pit' and this is our mini-world. You will work for us and make clothes for 7 hours a day and then you can play and do whatever you want you have free time. If any of  the supervisors catch you misbehaving or stopping work for more than a second you're free time will be replaced by working hours. There are many other kids who have a rather violent nature i suggest you don't bother them. If you scream no one is gonna hear you. Don't try contacting your parents in any way." "You monster" screamed Taylor. "Well let's just act as if you never said that he muttered. "You start work tomorrow so get you rest."

Taylor opened her eyes to find herself in a small unfurnished room. She put her head in her hands and then remembered how she got here. She thought that it was just a bad dream. But it was happening for real. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes with her pale white hands. The top her neat fingernails were now broken and jagged. Her clothes were crumpled and some parts ripped.She was sitting on the cold marble floor waiting for something to happen. A muscular man with olive skin and short black hair opened the door to the room. Wordlessly he dragged her outside and set her down on the floor inside an office with polished wooden floor and a large oak table in front of a black leather swivel chair which had its back to them. "Boss", the man said in a deep voice with a slight Jamaican accent,"Here she is." And the chair turned. Taylor wasn't sure what to see. Maybe a man with half his face burnt sipping a bottle of beer with a cigarette in his other hand? A muscular g...

Taylor hugged the brown paper bag tightly to her chest. Blowing her brown hair out of her face she looked around. She was standing at the bus stop waiting for her school bus to arrive. Taylor lived in an unknown neighborhood not too far away from her school. There was no one else at the bus stop. She was 12 years old with high cheekbones and a skinny build. It was raining and the ground was slippery and wet. Ever since she was child, Taylor had always loved the smell of wet earth. Feet slapped the wet pavement relentlessly and now it was raining so hard, it was hard to see. Taylor rubbed her cold hands on her rosy cheeks. She closed her eyes for a moment. Unfortunately, it had to happen then. Two pairs of rough hands grabbed her by her waist and one of the men who it belonged to, slung Taylor over his shoulder grunted under her weight. She screamed loudly, kicking and thrashing around wildly. A cold hand clamped over her mouth and her voice was muffled and soft. She struggled and tr...