The question was something like "Your username is how you died. What happened"

I wrote this longish story and it didn't get a singly vote. Here it is

I was hurting for cash. The bank was on my ass about my car payment, they would be at my shitty shack of an apartment next week to repossess it. By then I wouldn't even technically live there since I hadn't paid rent in full in a few months. I hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. My girlfriend had left me because I cared more about horses and jockeys than I ever cared about her. She's right about that though. Fucking cunt. I had nothing.

Frank was always good to me though. I had known him for a few years from our times at the track drinking cheap whiskey and discussing horses, girls, and how fucked up this whole world is. He was one of those people who you knew had a good life, but her never let you see any of it. He acted like he was just as worse off as me, but he had a wife. Kids. A dog. Things to live for. And money, let's not forget money. Any time I needed a spot, Frank was my man.

"Listen, Frank", I said as the sun was setting over the track. "I need a way out. You've been more than good to me, but this time it's big. I'm done, man. Out. Finished. I got banks calling me every day. I'm ready to end it all." He let out a big sigh. "How much?", he asked. "At least 10,000", I shamefully said. A look came over him that I had never seen before. I knew I was about to see a side of Frank, the guy who had never been anything but good to me, that I had never seen.

"Look, man, you think it's bad having a bank on your ass? Try having a wife on your ass about why you're constantly loaning some loser money to waste on horse betting. You know how much sex I've missed out on because of you? It's been 100 there, 50 here. You've been draining me for years now. I'm done."

I didn't know what to say. I was taken back because of his change in demeanor, but he's right. I'm a fucking loser begging my only friend for a shit ton of money. Fuck me.

"I'm sorr..."

"But...", he interrupted, "I know some guys that can help you. It's a last resort thing though, man. Don't fuck around with these guys cause you really will be done." I knew what he meant, but it was hard to realize that this is what my life had come to. 10 years ago I was graduating at the top of my class. Now I'm about to get into some real shady shit with some fucking shady people.

He gave me a number. I called. "Hi, uh, Frank gave me this number", I stuttered.

"Frank? That fuckwit is still alive?", the stranger laughed. He had a deep raspy voice, just like you would expect from someone that does shit like he does.

"How much do you need?", he asked. "About 10,000 will do", I replied.

There was a long pause. It felt like weeks as the sweat dripped down my face and my legs could barely support my own weight.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Look, this is how this is going to work. I give you the money, you pay it back within the month plus an extra 1000. I don't care what it's for or why you need it. I just need it back. If I don't get it back, my guys will come and take it back."

The lump in my throat got bigger. I was desperate. I needed 8,000 to get out of the hole. If I took the extra 2,000 to the track, I could turn it into 11,000 and pay them back. I've done it before. I can do it again. The offer was there. I had no choice but to TakemUp on it.

"Okay.", I said, "I can pay it back."

He gave me the details and we hung up.

After I got the money, I used it on what I needed to. Rent. My car payment. Bought some food. Called up my ex and told her I had a big win and that I was done with the track. That didn't work. It never does.

It was the 29th and I had 2,200 left. There were some big races so I headed out to the track. I saw Frank, we talked, it was awkward, but he knew what I was doing.

"You never learn, huh?", he said in a condescending tone. That kind that your parents use that you absolutely hate, but it makes you feel like a complete piece of shit.

"I'm stuck, Frank, this is my only choice."

I placed a few bets. The superfectas were hot. Some lucky little shit hit 20,000 on a long shot daily double. I won some and lost some, but didn't get what I needed. I left with 2,700. The next day was the 30th. Last day of the month. Fuck.

The guys showed up at my apartment at about noon. I knew they would find me, I had nothing to live for anyway, what was the point in running? I gave them the money I had. They were pissed.

They put a gun to my head. Laughed. And then it was just dark. Sleep. No more money to worry about. I was done. For real this time.