The Thief

Chapter Two

Chapter 2

I was woken up by a grouchy old woman. She shook me with her wrinkly hands.

"Get up, you waste of space!" She shrieked in her raspy voice. You could smell the smoke on her breath and her clothes.

It was my eighteenth birthday and by law I had to leave the foster home that I lived in.

Thank god.

I hated that place with a passion. I hated my foster parents. They looked at me like I was a bug on their windshield. Like just the presence of me ruined their day.

I growled at the old hag as she kept shaking me.

"I'm up. Now get off me!" I demanded. I felt the hands come off of my shoulders. I flung the small grey blanket off of me and got out of bed.

She stared at me as I stretched my long limbs. I stared back, not once blinking.

My foster mom was a short and skinny old woman. She had short, thin white hair with little beady grey eyes that could stare into your soul. "I expect you to be gone by noon."

"I will be gone as soon as possible." I spat back at my foster mom.

I hated this woman. Like almost every other person in my life, she treated me like dirt. Yes, she gave me a roof to live under and food to eat, but she only did that because she got paid for it.

The orphanage was getting so packed with children that the owner was so desperate that he paid people to take care of some of the kids for certain periods of time. Just my luck, I got stuck with the same two people for 7 years.

BettyAnn my foster mom, didn't look out for me out of the kindness in her heart, but for the money in her pocket.

"You are such a ungrateful child." She spat at me, her yellowing teeth showing as she grimaced at me in disgust.

"Ungrateful? You treat me like shit! You wouldn't care if I got run over by a bus! You wouldn't care if I committed suicide. You would probably laugh in my face as I pulled the trigger!" I yelled.

I had held back my hatred against her over the years, but since I would never see this woman again I decided to show my true colours.

She starred at me with an unreadable expression. I locked eyes with her, not ever looking away. I wouldn't back down.

"Yea, you're probably right." With that last comment, she walked out.

"Bitch." I mumbled under my breath.

"I heard that!"

"Good, I don't have to repeat myself!"

----

Instead of making my bed like I did every morning, I reached under my small, twin sized bed and pulled out my suitcase.

I just stood there looking down at the suitcase in my grey pyjama pants and shirt. I had had that suitcase since I was four years old. My mother had used that suitcase for emergencies, which happened way too often in that small apartment.

Tears started to burn in my eyes as I thought about my brave and loving mother. She was the only one that I had ever loved in my 18 year life span. But yet, she broke my heart the worst out of all the people I had ever known.

I opened up the suitcase and pulled out the familiar silver heart necklace she had given me on the day she left. I clutched it to my chest for a few minutes, trying to make the familiar ache in my heart to go away.

Unsuccessful, I clasped the necklace around my neck like I did ever morning.

I pulled out an old photograph of my mother and I. My mother was beautiful. She had long black hair and blue eyes just like me. In this picture, my mother was holding me in her arms with her eyes closed and smiling like she was trying to savour the moment. I was fast asleep in her arms. Tears unwillingly flowed down my cheeks.

I slowly packed my suitcase.

After I was done with that, I left my room and went downstairs to have my last meal in that hellhole some people called home. I ate my Cheerio's silently next to Robert, my foster dad. He was an old man with thick, blocky glasses.

"What are you reading?" I knew that would piss him off. The most I had ever heard Robert talk to me was the first day I lived in their home, when he was listing all the rules of the house to me.

He gave me a why-are-you-still-here look before returning back to the newspaper he was reading.

He never once asked me how I was or if I was feeling alright. I could be on the verge of killing myself, and he wouldn't have noticed.

I finished my cereal quickly, eager to get out and never see this place again. I raced up stairs to get ready. I slipped into a pair of dark jeans and a plain white shirt. I never really shopped that much.

What's the point? It's not like I had anyone to impress.

I ran down the stairs, suitcase in hand. I went to small kitchen to say my final goodbyes.

"I'm leaving."

"Good." My foster parents said in unison.

"See you two in Hell." With that, I walked down the hall to the front door, opening it. I slammed the door as hard as I could, knowing that it annoyed both of them so much. I thought I heard a couple picture frames fall from the impact. I smiled in satisfaction, as I heard Robert start to yell in frustration.

----

I walked down several streets in the spring air. Finally, I reached my destination. I practically skipped up to the tall, grey building. I would be living there for the time being.

I had already rented an apartment with the money I had been saving up since the first day I got a job. I had saved a lot of money, but it wouldn't last me forever. The job I had at a small cafe wasn't going to pay for that apartment each month. Once inside the building, I walked up the steps to my apartment, not wanting to take the elevator. I had a horrible case of claustrophobia.

I had reached the room 6B and set my bags down. I shoved a small key into the lock of the door.

I grimaced at the sight of my new home.