Tied Together

Chapter 15: Criminal

Cut the red wire, twist it together with the blue. Grab the screwdriver and insert into the ignition lock cylinder and turn it clockwise. Re-touch the wires to create a spark.

It worries me how natural this is.
How familiar I am with this.

My fingers know what to do all by themselves and I am not proud of it. I am not proud of what I am doing.

I would like to put all the blame on Greg, but some of it is on me. Because I was weak enough to resign to his demands. Because he gave me a deal I couldn't refuse. I couldn't turn it down.

And now look where I am...

This isn't something small he is asking of me. Stealing a car is not something small. It isn't something discrete that you can hide away in your pocket. Something you can tuck away in your bag. No. It is quite large. It is loud, very visible, and moves.

It wouldn't be the first time I have done this, but I thought I put that life behind me. Obviously not entirely.

Greg needed a car to get him out of a dangerous gang's bad favour. He needs me to steal it. He let me choose the car to steal, it just has to be a nice one. An expensive one.

I don't take stealing shit lightly. In fact, it makes me sick to the gut. So much so that I sometimes puke afterward, I am so absorbed by guilt that it makes me physically sick. So when I have to—I make sure I am stealing from a person who doesn't deserve it. Someone unkind and cruel.

Finding people like that are easy. There's heaps. I just go to Dorlees' restaurant, there are lots of people like that there.

Tonight's target was a simple choice. An easy choice. They own a red Chevy Camaro, truly a sight for sore eyes. The couple looks mid-forties but kept a youngish appearance with their expensive clothing and botox. As soon as I saw the wife's diamond-plated dress I had an instant disliking towards her. Maybe I just dislike people with money, people who flaunt it around others that don't so they can feel important. Growing up poor has done that to me, has made me bitter towards wealthy people. I know it's not right, I just can't help it sometimes.

But it wasn't the sparkly dress that made me pick them. Pick their car. It wasn't when she insulted the waitress, didn't tip, or even when they turned their noses up to a homeless man. The thing that really got me was the look in their eyes when they did it. Like they were dirt beneath their shoes. Like they were better because they had money. It made me sick to my stomach.

Breaking into the car was easy. I think it hurt me more than the car when I had to damage the paint to get in. It was dismantling the alarm and hitting wiring that was the tricky part.

It is in times like these that I question myself, Is this worth it?

Probably not.

But at least I will get enough money so I won't be kicked out of my apartment and homeless. Alternatively; in jail at least I would have a bed.

Unfortunately, I miscalculated how long it would take me. I didn't expect that the wife would return to the car to grab something. I also didn't expect there to be a police officer down that street. Pretty unlucky if you ask me. I shouldn't have been surprised, I'm never lucky.

Which all leads me to now.

In a jail cell.

I am not unfamiliar with a jail cell. Except it looks a little different since I was last here. They took away the beds.

Between the concrete walls, flickering white likes, and the horrible stench it is safe to say this is not a pleasant place. Being homeless would be way better. They only have one temporary holding cell so I am stuck with two guys. I am sitting on an extremely stiff  and uncomfortable bench across from the guys.