This is From Matilda.

Chapter twelve - the good and the bad

Jack, was the next person on my list. Although I really didn't want to see him, I knew I had to.

Once again, I found myself standing on his porch, and knocking my knuckles against the front door.

A few moments later, there were a few clicks, and then the door opened. His face appeared, and his expression immediately softened when he saw me.

"Come in." He said, and lead me to the living room.

After handing me my usual tea, Jack took a seat across from me.

It was incredibly awkward, neither one of us wanting to speak first. He drummed his fingers on the am of the chair, his eyes flitting nervously around the room.

Eventually, it came to the point where I couldn't stand the uncomfortable silence any longer.

I let out a deep sigh, "I'm sorry for what happened the other day. I was acting hysterically, and it was stupid to drink anyway."

I took another sip of my tea. "So can we forget that happened, and carry on with your dumb project?"

"Don't worry about it. We all get drunk, and we all make stupid decisions whilst drunk... Believe me, I know."

He had a sour expression on his face, as if recalling an embarrassing memory.

"Well now you have to tell me. It's only fair."

He shook his head, "I'm not reliving one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, thank you very much. That being said, if you get me drunk, I'll probably tell you."

"Hmm, interesting." I said, blowing the surface of the tea, in an attempt to cool the scalding, fragrant water.

He didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at me, eyes all serious, and contemplating. Suddenly, I was worried that the easy atmosphere that was growing was insincere, and that Jack was still offended by my drunken behaviour.

"I wanted to talk to you about something you said, the other day."

Here we go.

Despite my reluctance to start this inevitable conversation, I nodded anyway.

"Do you really think you're a bad person, Matilda?"

My throat suddenly felt dry, and I struggled to breathe. I sipped my tea again, with tense fingers, to distract myself from another pathetic outburst.

I shrugged my shoulders, "I'm a thief, aren't I?"

"Perhaps, technically speaking. But you aren't. Not really."

I rolled my eyes, at his cryptic words.

"I suspected it before, but you confirmed my suspicions when we were in the underground."

"Please, do enlighten me."

"Well, I haven't heard of many thieves returning the things they steal."

I fidgeted with the bottom of my jacket, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. "I didn't need the money, it was just for show."

"Right, whatever you say, Matilda."

"Believe what you want, I don't care." I crossed my arms defensively.

He didn't respond. He just looked at me inquisitively again, as if I were an exhibit in a gallery.

"Have you ever felt guilty about stealing something?"

"Of course not!"

"So you have." He said, with a stupid smirk on his lips.