My name is Jonathan Mojena and i live. I have been coerced into selling meth by walter white. I knew I had to think fast—one wrong move and I wouldn’t make it out alive. I started by staying calm, keeping my voice steady when I told them I wasn't the right guy for the job. "You don't want me involved," I said, "I'm too risky, too unreliable." They seemed to buy it at first, but I wasn’t done. I played on their greed, hinting that I could bring in more business, but only if I was left off the front lines. I convinced them I could be more useful working from the shadows, handling logistics and contacts while they dealt with the muscle. It bought me time to set up an escape. Over the next few days, I played my part—staying low, earning their trust, until the perfect moment came. I slipped away under the guise of arranging a big deal, knowing they'd be too focused on their next move to realize I was gone. I didn’t look back; I didn’t have the luxury. I was out, but my heart didn’t slow down until I was far from their reach.