This is From Matilda.

By pixles

433 48 42

A successful thief is invincible, indomitable. However, once a thief is caught, freedom is a thing of the pa... More

Chapter one- This is From Matilda
Chapter two - rush of adrenaline
Chapter three - bits and pieces
Chapter four - petrichor: lingering
Chapter five - magic leaves
Chapter six - the catalyst
Chapter seven - citrus deals
Chapter eight - breathe
Chapter ten - power struggle
Chapter eleven - recovery
Chapter twelve - the good and the bad
Chapter thirteen - good grief
Chapter fourteen - heavenly creatures
Chapter fifteen - upsidedown
Chapter sixteen - home, sweet home
Chapter seventeen - hang up
Chapter eighteen - recollect
Chapter twenty-nine - prelude

Chapter nine - conflict in a cafe

12 2 0
By pixles


This was it. The new beginning to whatever this was.

It took me a while to get to the cafe I agreed to meet him in, but I was glad for the distance from the apartment. It made me feel less guilty.

It was an independent cafe, and despite the slightly run down atmosphere, there wasn't a free seat in sight. I spotted him in the back corner of the cafe, and slipped into the seat opposite him. His steel blue eyes flickered up from his newspaper.

"Good Morning, Matilda."

I couldn't help slightly cringing when he said my name.

"So, what now?"I said impatiently. I just wanted to get this over and done with.

"Nothing complicated. Just an interview." He exchanged his newspaper, for a notebook and a pen.

There was a moment of silence, as if he expected me to say something.

"Well?" I said impatiently, breaking the awkward lapse of silence.

He cleared his throat. "Right, well, question number one." He flipped open the cover of the notebook.

"How did you become involved in the thieving business?"

"The boss found me and took me in." I wanted to keep my answers as short as possible. I don't know how much information I could hold back in a bloody interview, but I was determined to try.

"How much money do you earn a week?"

"Depends."

He looked up from his scribbling in the notepad, to give me a withering look. I rolled my eyes in response.

"Fine. On average, maybe two hundred pounds."

"What happens to the money?"

"Filters back to the boss. I keep the leftovers."

He nodded, still scribbling furiously.

"What do you do in your free time?"

"What is this, twenty one questions?"

"Oh Matilda, I thought we were actually making progress for a minute there."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Productive is my middle name." I said, almost monotonously.

He smirked as he gave a small shake of his head. "Come on, It's not a difficult question."

"Fine. I do hard drugs in my free time."

His eyes widened, as if he actually believed me. "Really?"

"Well obviously not." He looked confused, and I sighed exasperatedly at his incompetence.

"I read, go to the library, go for walks. You know, boring stuff."

"You go to the library?"

"That's what I said. You have a problem with that?"

"No, no. I just...."

"Didn't expect someone like me to be literate or something?"

"I never said anything like tha-"

"Just forget it." I said, interrupting him. I couldn't help being so hostile, I couldn't comprehend the idea of working with him. My minimal cooperation was all he was going to get at the moment.

He cleared his throat. "Ok, next question. Have you ever been caught before?"

I gritted my teeth. "No. Not until you decided to ruin my life."

He didn't visibly flinch, but he swiftly moved on to the next question.

"How long have you been doing this for?"

"Since I was about fourteen. So five years."

"Do you remember your life before?"

I shook my head, and looked down at my hands. Despite not knowing much at all about my past, it was something I didn't like to think about, let alone talk about.

"How did you happen to be in the apartment then." He persisted.

"Just drop it."

My fists were clenched tight, and I had to resist shouting in his face; I'd already attracted a few turns of heads. I inhaled deeply.

"It's nothing interesting. Just your stereotypical, tragic backstory. Nothing new."

He had pushed the pen and notebook aside now.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"Whatever. I'm done with questions today."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah. Yeah of course. Let me buy you a tea or something. Lemon and green tea, right?"

"Please don't. Just let me leave." I said, already drawing back from my chair. I was tired and frustrated. Of course I wanted tea, just not with him.

He sighed again. "Same time, same place, on thursday." there was a slight pause, before his eyes widened as if he suddenly remembered something.
"Here's some more money by the way, so you don't have to... work today."

I nodded, took the envelope, and stood up to leave. But he opened his mouth before I turned my back.

"Next time you can interview me too. I'll answer anything. I promise."

"Fine." I said curtly, and walked away.

His proposition was definitely appealing. Finding some straightforward answers would be incredibly useful for me. It could level the playing field significantly, though it didn't do much to change my opinion of him.

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