‹ Prequel: Heartache
Sequel: Regret
Status: Oneshot/Complete/Finished


Little Thief 1/1


My girlfriend Stella is staying over at my house tonight, even though it's one of the nights we have to study for our finals. We are cuddling together on the couch in my room and I pull her closer to me as I see the frustrated look on her face. She was confused over a math problem but she wouldn’t admit it. She was biting her pencil eraser as I smiled at her stubbornness.

She stood up, breaking free of my hug and went downstairs, probably to get a glass of water or cherry juice. I know her so well, as we’ve been together for five years now. I turn back to my textbooks and work at the problems. When I heard a car pull into the driveway, I dismiss it, thinking it’s most likely my parents. I had been hoping they’d stay out a bit longer, but I guess things don’t always go as we want them to.

Ten minutes had passed when I decided to go downstairs to see what was going on. I was curious as to why my parents hadn’t called for me or said they were home, and also as to why Stella was taking so long. Proceeding with extreme caution, I walked downstairs. I could hear Stella’s voice arguing with a young man I had never seen before. Her voice was quivering.

"Darn it, no one's supposed to be here." The boy said, with a gun pointing at my girlfriend. "Don't try anything funny."

I take a step back. It appears like there’s only that one man, but he is armed. He looks young. He has to be sixteen or seventeen like me and Stella. I’m not stupid enough to charge at him, knowing that I would be beaten. I try to think of ways to handle this. I could call the police, but that guy is holding my girlfriend hostage. I could run away, but that would be pathetic. I have to do something.

The little thief ties her hands and legs to a chair before he goes around, placing things in his black book-bag. I look at Stella, and to my amazement, she’s calm. She must think that this boy wouldn’t kill her. He isn’t a killer. At least he doesn’t look like one.

I run up toward my parent’s bedroom as quietly as I can and grab my father’s gun from the bedside table under his underwear, placing it under my shirt, tucking it into my pants waistband. For the first time in years, I’m glad my father is a police officer.

I walk down the stairs and point the gun at the young boy. I turn on the lights, taking him by surprise, and causing his gun to fall to the floor. I quickly move toward him and kick his gun away with my foot, sending it under the sofa. I keep the gun pointed at him as he raises his hands on the air, desperate for what was going to come. He knows he‘s caught and that we had to call the police. Who in their right mind wouldn’t call for the police? Us, I guess.

‘’I’m so sorry. Please don’t call the police, I’m begging you.’’ The young boy begs as a couple of tears run down his face. His brown eyes were void of their color and his hair clearly hadn’t been washed in at least a week. ‘’I really didn’t want to do it but there was no other way.’’ He says, and starts crying. I tell him to untie Stella and let her go. Luckily, he complies.

Stella smiles at the thief and tells him, ‘’Thank you.’’

‘’Why did you do it?’’ I ask him, lowering the gun, no longer needing to point it at him.

‘’I am homeless and I have no money. I don’t even have money to feed myself and I’m ashamed for it. I’m ashamed I tried to steal from you but what other choice do I have?’’ He says, lowering his hands and resting them on his sides. ‘’Besides, people are the strongest when they have nothing to lose and I have nothing. I have no family, no place to call home, just absolutely nothing. It’s only me.’’

‘’We are not going to call the cops, but we’ll try to help you.’’ Stella says to the young boy while I nod my head. We let him take a bath and I give him some of my clothes to wear, as we wait for my parents to come home and help us find a way to help him.

Who would have thought that little thief would become my best friend and adopted brother…because I didn’t believe it, not until it happened.
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