My name is Hart Lee. Yeah, that's right, I'm the one who came back from the hundredth level of hell. You probably can't imagine what it was like, but I can tell you straight up, it changed my life.
The whole thing started with a cigarette. Well, not just any cigarette. That shit was far from ordinary! One day, my cousin said he got some top-notch stuff from Block 11 and wanted me to give it a try. I was all in, without thinking twice. And boy, did I regret it! It was like the sky was falling. If I wasn't as tough as I am, my handsome face would've been ruined for good—don't get me wrong, looking good or bad is all in your mind; if you take it seriously, you lose.
As I was fading away, I distinctly smelled gunpowder. I knew right then that my dumb cousin had gotten his hands on something way worse than regular fake shit. It was like "military-grade" stuff! No telling which agent just tossed it away. If I ever find out who did it, I'm gonna have a serious talk with them.
Anyway, you know how it goes, the stuff blew up. Bang! I was completely dazed. Been smoking for years, but never had a cigarette hit that hard. What happened next, if anyone called 911, I have no idea. In this heartless world, who gives a damn about someone like me? I was just plain unlucky.
I was thinking, if someone had just tried to save me back then, maybe I would've made it. But there's no use in saying "what ifs." You are who you are, and you get the life you deserve—that's what my neighbor's uncle's second wife's grandpa always said.
It's clear my life wasn't worth much. At least not to anyone else. Alright, back to the story. When I came to, my first thought wasn't "Who am I?" or "Where am I?" or "What happened?" No, I was checking if someone had stolen my lighter! Damn, look at me!
Yeah, that's just how broke I am. Or at least, that's me. If you can relate, then congrats, we're on the same team.
I took a moment to calm down, and as my head cleared a bit, I got up from where I was lying. I was aching all over, like I'd been beaten up by a bunch of cops. A few seconds later, the stench hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost passed out from the smell!
I quickly realized I was in a yellowish-brown room. How big was it? I'd say at least as big as five standard basketball courts. There were a lot of people, men and women, doing who knows what. But one thing was clear: they all looked as miserable as I did.
I cautiously sniffed the air again and was almost gagged by the overwhelming stench. I wanted to puke, but nothing came out, just dry heaves.
An old man nearby got impatient: "Cut it out, will you? You think you're some delicate princess? Get to work already, don't dawdle."
I was pissed and said to him, "What work? Who are you talking to? Can't you smell this shit?"
The old man: "So what if I can? We've all been smelling it for half our lives. What's a little longer gonna hurt?"
I was shocked. "What do you mean, 'half our lives'?" I thought this old man had lost his mind.
"Half our lives... well, I can't really remember how long it's been. Maybe you can ask someone else. But I bet they're just like me."