The 12 Steps [1D/5SOS]

14. "Getaway Car"

TW: Gun violence

Hope

Present Day: Wednesday, April 12th, 2017

I pushed my sunglasses up onto my nose, looking around the bank. I'd never been to a bank with the purpose of stealing anything. Actually, the more I thought about it, I'd never been into a bank at all.

I have zero ideas why I sighed up for this in the first place. I didn't care what happened to Calum and Luke, they shouldn't have been robbing a bank to begin with. All I can do is blame the weed and my natural born stubbornness that led me here.

Maybe it's because I didn't want to have FOMO. And yes, it is wrong to get FOMO from robbing a bank. But if all my siblings get to do it, I get to as well.

I tried not to itch at my scalp as I walked through the bank. The blonde wig felt unnatural on my head but I was told this was the best we could do in a short period of time. I wore a very tight pink dress, hugging onto my body in a very discomforting way. And not to mention the six inch white pumps that made that annoying clicking sound on the marble floor. Gag, just gag at this whole outfit.

Someone needed to teach these boys some fashion skills.

But I wasn't here to judge their lack of knowing what women liked to wear, I was on a mission. I glanced my eyes across the room before I found a woman free at her desk off to the side of the room. Acting my character I strutted right up to her like my time of day was more valuable than her own.

She didn't look up from her computer when I was standing across from her, so I obnoxiously cleared my throat.

That got her attention. She somehow peered down her glasses up at me. "Yes, how may I help you?"

"You're free great," I smacked my lips together, pulling out the chair and sitting down. I crossed one leg over the other, placing my large pink purse in my lap. "I would like to open an account with you today."

"Alright..." She dragged out. Glancing back at her computer, she started clicking on some things before placing her hands back at the keys. "What's your name?"

"Suzie, Suzie Sarah Smith. But my friends call me Sss, like a snake," I made the hissing noise before gracing her with my amazing smile.

"Right, okay," She typed in my fake name on the computer. "And Suzie-"

"Sss," I corrected her. "I prefer to be called that."

"Alright, ma'am," She was clearly starting to get fed up with me. Maybe I should tone it down a bit. "What is your occupation?"

"I am an influencer," That was the easiest thing I could come up with.

"Can you elaborate on that?" She asked.

"Yes," I nodded my head, tapping my finger on the desk. "I take pictures of myself in little clothing, sometimes it doesn't look like I'm wearing any at all. Then I photoshop it and posted it online so millions of girls can get body dysmorphia looking at my fake appearance and lifestyle."

She stopped tying after I said pictures. "Let's just put in model. When were you born?"

"Um, September the thirteenth, nineteen ninety seven," I literally just pulled a date out of my ass. I just knew it needed to be old enough so I was of legal age to open a bank account.

"And Miss Smith, what is your social security number?" Now that was a hard one to make up.

"My what?" So I played dumb.