ILLEGALLY HIS

1. I mistook your wallet for mine. [Part 1] Bess. The system is s**t. Ever since I was a kid, they’ve sent me from house to house, like I’m some kind of ping-pong ball that can bounce from place to place. Don’t they know that playing ball leaves you horribly dizzy? Besides, do all those psychologists and social workers really not know that foster homes are the worst thing that can happen to a kid? Because they are. Trust me and my experience. I’ve lost count of how many alcoholic dads have used me as a personal maid to bring them their damn cold beers while they scratch their fat asses on the couch like the lazy bastards they are. And I can’t even begin to count how many psychotic, jealous mothers have accused me of trying to seduce their disgusting and disrespectful husbands, like some fat, bald guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week is actually attractive. I can’t remember the last time some horny son tried to sneak into my room at night. Thankfully, the knife I always carry has been there to protect me. And those daughters with queen complexes who think they can walk all over you? Ugh, they’re the worst. So if you ask me when I’m going back to a foster home, my answer is… Exactly! Never! Even if I go days without food, and the clothes I’m wearing are tired of being patched up to stop falling apart, I don’t care. Because at least I don’t have awful people treating me like I’m beneath them just because I had the misfortune of being born to shitty parents who left me at the doorstep of an orphanage just days after I was born. Does it depress me that my parents abandoned me as a baby? No, I’m glad they did. There’s a saying: better alone than in bad company. Ever heard it? Well, those are the words I live by. What kind of psycho would want to be with parents like mine? Thankfully, not me. And bless all the damn pastries in the world, I never will! So these are the plans for my life, the long list I’ve carefully organized in my head. Number one, wait until I turn eighteen, because of course, the i***t who decided you have to be eighteen to work totally screwed up my life and a few others'. Whatever, I have to adapt to this messed up world even if I think it’s insane. Or maybe I’m the insane one. Anyway… let’s continue with my list. Number two, I think you already know it. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen! Work, work, and work! Because again, the i***t who said money is necessary to live—yeah, that guy also screwed up my life and probably all of humanity’s. And now for item number three, which I’ll tell you when I figure it out. Because so far, I have no idea. Depressing? Maybe. But try wiping the smile off my face and you’ll have a problem. And today, as I wander through one of the city streets, poorly protected by the coat that’s my most prized possession—actually, the only thing I own—I think everything would be perfect if hunger didn’t exist. God, how many people have died from hunger? I just hope I’m not one of them, and thankfully, thanks to my great skill of being small and sneaky, I can steal a few bills and some food to survive each day. Are you calling me a criminal? Because I’m not. I know who I steal from, so don’t get it twisted. For example, that guy in a suit and tie yelling into his phone while sipping what’s probably a bitter coffee won’t even notice if one bill goes missing from his very lucky wallet, right? Plus, the fancy open-air restaurant he’s eating at, because of course he can afford it, proves his very fortunate financial status. Definitely. One bill won’t make a difference to him, but it can buy me a meal after days of hunger. So I stand there pretending to read the board with the daily specials. Yeah, babe, not a good idea. My stomach growls under my clothes thanks to all those delicious meals I’ll probably never get to eat. The guy in the suit is next to me, chatting away on his phone. Correction—shouting. A wrinkle forms between his black eyebrows from anger, but I just find his yelling funny. So I smile as he continues to yell at some poor Michael to do his damn job. Poor Michael’s mom, because this guy has invoked her name more times than I can count. I shout “Bingo!” in my head when the guy, who by the way has deep blue eyes, gets up to go to the bathroom. See? Not that hard. Now all I have to do is find his wallet in the jacket the i***t left on the chair, grab one bill, and get out of there as fast as I can. Of course, while I do that, I’ll say a little prayer that he doesn’t catch me. Without raising suspicion, I walk over to his jacket like I was born to do this and search for the wallet, which, luckily, is there. One of the main things you should know when doing something illegal: act natural, like you’re not doing anything wrong. So, with my calmest face, I open the wallet and—holy s**t! There are tons of bills and credit cards! I’m shocked because it’s the first time I’ve ever seen that much money. Am I about to rob a drug dealer or what the f**k?! Deciding I don’t want that kind of trouble, I grab the smallest bill I can find and get ready to bolt. But oh, for all the pastries in the world! My luck is s**t! “What do you think you’re doing?” says a deep voice behind me, and thanks to all the yelling I heard earlier, I know it’s him. The guy I’m robbing! I immediately drop the wallet, which lands with a loud clatter on the table, my eyes following it the whole time. But yeah, I quickly stuff the bill into one of my coat pockets. What? I need the money. “Would you believe me if I said I mistook your wallet for mine?” I ask, closing my eyes tight, leaving out the part where I don’t even have a wallet. I flinch when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around. Still, I don’t open my eyes, because… I’m embarrassed! And yeah, yeah, damn it, yeah. I’m used to doing this, but I’ve never been caught. So what am I supposed to do now? “You didn’t even think of stealing a bigger bill? I don’t know, there are fifty-pound notes in there and you take the five,” I hear his voice in front of me. “Which makes me wonder, are you a thief or a mock version of one?” Oh, that pissed me off. “Hey!” I open my eyes to meet two blue pools looking at me with… amusement? “I’m a professional thief… I’ve… I’ve stolen really valuable things… like… like…” “Like five pounds from a wallet full of money?” His lips curl into what I think is a smile that’s already driving me crazy.