Willing Prey

TWO [ Working my ass of 24/7 ]

"Dumb broom, always breaking!"

Cleaning.
Washing.
Drying.

Apparently, I need another extension of my hands, preferably eight of my bodies just to complete all the household chores and go to part-time jobs that could barely feed me and my mother.

I was again, once tempted to throw the already broken broom but decided not since I could not find a spare for it. So it was saved.

"I'm leaving" I announced, with no response.

I made sure to lock the doors, the chains intertwined with each other as it felt heavy in my hands before I lock it; heavy smokers of the pot came rushing in without a care in the world as flimsy clothed juveniles rushes to their next target, I pushed to pass through them and let their work be.

I have my work to worry about.

My hands tremble not from nervousness but from the biting cold that seems to punish me for my actions; my partner has already signaled to me so I make my move — dump a coffee into the poor, naive woman in the street.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that, oh no! I'm really sorry, I'll say for the dry cleaning, I'm so, so sorry!"

"It's fine! I'm fine!" She winces as the hot coffee dripped into her newly plaid skirt, the corner of my eyes spot my partner as he maneuvers into the small space I pushed the little miss in.

"No! I insist, don't worry about the cost, I'll pay for it! I'm truly sorry!" I helped her with her bag and put it down then take my handkerchief and wiped her skirt while she stood there in an awkward stance.

This was easy.

"Here's the money for the dry cleaning-" she cut me off.

"No, seriously, no need to pay for it. This is an accident and I understand"

Her eyes were once like mine, but it wasn't long before I was corrupted. Before I let it corrupt me.

"Really, miss? Thank you so much and I'm so, so sorry for that! Bless you, really"

Bless you to never meet me again. Of course, you wouldn't because I look like a sick beggar right now. No one would even think that I did that and even if they did, the police don't care.

Because they're also working on their own.

Soon, I leave, flash a smile, and wave goodbye to her before strutting into the filthy street before my partner came in and puts the wallet in my deep hollowed sleeve.

"Good job"

"You too"

...

I fished out my phone, it was cracked but still working, damage to the outside but still functioning just like me. There's only half an hour left and I'll be on the house, not home, it has never been home after Pa died.

Clang.

Plates came crashing into my sink, some were clean to the brim while others were still left untouched.

"Clean faster" my boss ordered and I was off to work.

There's no one left here in the kitchen but me since they couldn't pay three staff to wash their dishes along with a boss that orders anyone with a livid expression.

My hands were quick to take the gloves off and pick up the food, fished out all untouched ones, and put them inside the plastic I prepared already in the small space in my clothes.

"Are you finished washing them?!"

"Nearly finished!" I yelled back and dropped all the food on my plastic before I was seen.

Working seems to be my life now, forever.

***
Update today: I'm burnout, not feeling well mixed with the impending face-to-face defense of our thesis so yep, maybe I won't be able to update The MC forgot the plot and this story in a designated day. Sorry for that, wish me luck. Thank you!

Chapter 3 is up!

So yes, she does pickpocketing and no, I do not promote it but sometimes one resorts to crime for financial purposes. Not all criminals were one, to begin with, sometimes society makes them and hones them into one.

Either way, working is all she's done and I can't imagine doing that for the rest of my life.

Hope you like this chapter!

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