Good Men Die Young, Bad Men Live Long: A Son’s Cold Revenge

I watched my father work as a security guard at an electronics shop. He greeted everyone with a smile, even those who ignored him. One afternoon, three hooded boys stole phones and laptops. My father chased them without hesitation. He caught one of them, but the boy stabbed him in the stomach. The bosses and other workers stood by and cursed him, yet no one lifted a finger to help. My father held on to the thief’s bag until he collapsed. At the hospital, a stranger tried to save him, but nurses demanded payment first. They walked past him as he bled out. He died there, forgotten by others but cherished by the eight children he left behind. Fifteen years later, I found the man who had insulted and abandoned my father. I brought the head of his accomplice and threw it at him. Then I ended his life with a single blow. I am no hero—good men die young, and bad men live long.

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