Chapter 1- Not My Reality

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Cameron's POV

I linger in the background of the funeral, my usual tux on, my head down, like I don't want this death to have happened, but I do.

Once all of the people have gone up and looked at the face of the old man, I go up. I lean down in reverence, but really I am taking his soul. I take a little sand timer out of my coat pocket, and place it in his hand. It's his time to leave for good.

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"I'm not going to steal for you guys!" I tell my parents. Well, they aren't my parents, they are my foster parents, and they are crooks. My real parents died in Holand when I was little. I stil have no idea who they were, but I do know what they were, and I know it is my job to carry on the legacy.

"You're an innocent boy..." My "mother" says. "Why can't you just sneak into your girlfriend's house or something?"

"I'm not innocent." I say sullenly. "I've been to jail twice." I smirk. "Besides, I don't have a girlfriend and I sure as hell don't intend on getting one."

"But you're quiet and...we need the money."

"And that's my fault?" I point to her head. "You need to open your eyes. Your husband has a gambling problem! You just won't admit it."

"I won't admit it because he doesn't have one! He just does gambling on the side-lines."

"And spends all of the money!" I scream. "You know, I don't mind that I never get Christmas presents and birthday presents. Fuck the presents, but you and I need things he can't give us, but you're too scared to run away."

"The answer is never running away." She says pretending to seem wise.

"You must feel so smart." I shake my head and grab my coat. I start walking to the front door and into the hallway. She doesn't say anything, I doubt she cares where I'm going.

When I get outside the wind is bitterly cold and it bites at me, before I put on my coat. As I walk down the street with my coat on I start to think about the stealing thing.

As much as I don't want to do what my mom wants me to, I have to or we'll lose our apartment. I need to steal, I don't have a choice, and what better time to steal than Christmas?

I decide to walk down to Park Avenue to scout out places I would plan to break into. Most would require lots of security to enter, which I could do, but isn't easy.

When stealing, the best plan is to pick a place secluded, alone, probably fancier. These people have enough money to buy all of New York if they had to, most of them having lots of secrets, so even if you were caught, you could blackmail them. And trust me, I know a lot of secrets.

I wander further down the street until I come to a town-house looking building. It have two doors, meaning it's probably shared. I decide to scout the place out, and see if it is the perfect candidate.

The secret to stealing is not silence but haste, so a window near your target is ideal. If you can pound it in, grab what you came for, and leave. The owners will find out whether you make a loud noise or not, so you might as well focus on hauling ass out.

I never have a partner in crime. In fact, I will never have a partner in crime. My crimes are strictly one-man missions and just like I don't intend to have a girlfriend, I don't intend on getting a partner.

I scout out the place, peeking in the windows, until I find one suitable for breaking into. It has the large tree in site and many large and small presents. I tend to steal the small ones because they contain jewelry and precious small items. And more small things fit into a bag than a couple larger items.

I pull out a little sand timer from my coat pocket and look at the time it reads. I'm astonished when I see that the sand hasn't even begun to fall. Either there is a new born in the house, or a paranormal creature. Stealing from creatures like myself is very difficult.

This ought to be fun.

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