NEVER AGAIN . (SEBASTIAN - SDV)

CHAPTER SEVEN

PAST
14-18 years old

Sarah Elizabeth Lenoir had a curse. Far from a fairy tale curse, though. It wasn't a "prick your finger on a needle" or a "poisonous apple that brings you into a great slumber" curse. She had sticky hands, everything she grabbed will stick and never get paid for. In other words, stealing was her curse.

As a child, she recalled small memories of her mother screaming at her whenever she catches Sarah stealing. As a pre-teen, she made use of her sinful hands. She began as a clothes and grocery shopper. It started with her aunts and uncles giving her enough gold to buy their groceries. Once she delivers them, she was given 50G as payment. Sarah became greedy, screaming that it wasn't enough. She expanded her business, and that still didn't give her satisfaction. Suddenly, at the age of fourteen - she created a plan. She steals the clothes and groceries, not spending a single penny and tells her clients she used the money. Every day for one year, she would get around 1500G a week.

It didn't last long. A man—no, a boy around her age had caught her. She was stunned and humiliated that her sticky hands would never fail her. At first, the young man followed her. Then, he called out for her. And finally, he threatened to call the police.

"Quit following me, you cunt!" Sarah yelled at him when they reached an alleyway. The "cunt" had ashy blond hair that reached his shoulders, it was trimmed like a mullet but didn't have shaved sides. He was slim but had some edge of muscle—but he was still slim. He wore a short-sleeved, buttoned-up collar shirt and some scruffy jeans. A smile that looked too smug made Sarah's ears beg to blow out some steam.

Nothing was said after her complaints. The blond guy throws an envelope with notes of the country's currency stacked to the brim. All he did was tell her to follow him.

A group of con artists—Now, she didn't know what that meant but she knew that the blond guy's friends were criminals. There were three people she didn't know apart from the blond boy. A lady who looked around her early thirties and two male twins that reached their mid-twenties. The lady made it clear that Buffy's talent for stealing shouldn't be wasted on boring opportunities.

"What is your name, dear?" The lady smiled. She looked relaxed with her pyjamas still on at noon.

"Buffy."

Sooner or later, she began a fucking con artist. The group loved to repeat that they only steal from the villains and she stayed once she realised it was true. There was another thing they loved to repeat as well, "We're just strangers". She learnt all their names as soon as it was given.

The lady was named Jana, she was pale and had pretty ginger hair that reached her elbows— she also had an amazing figure. The twins were named Aryan and Hari, the taller one with a mature face was Aryan while the flirtatious dyed black hair man was Hari. And finally, the love of her life was named Tamlin. Blond hair with dark blue eyes, he was a looker. He was also an asshole with his cocky attitude. He was a couple of months older than Buffy and they grew close.

Buffy's family never wondered where she was half of the time. She was either at parties or on a mission. Whenever she was on missions, she told her parents it was a school trip. But, when the missions lasted weeks and weeks, she needed a cover-up. So, with the help of connections from Tamlin and Jana, she began to model. It was crazy scary, Buffy hated cameras. But the more and more time she spent doing quick little photoshoots for alibis, she started to love the attention, the attention from school and her reputation. Buffy's mother was so proud. The cover story caused all of Buffy's money to look like the pay for her photoshoots.

After a year of "photoshoots" and travelling, dropping out of school was the only thing she could do. It was fine, it was perfect actually. She became a millionaire in just one year. Without Tamlin's help, she would've continued doing her old job. Apart from the happiness the money brought her, she remained humbled. She acted like any other girl her age. Going to parties, doing drugs and rebelling.

Every mission was a breeze. Every dream she had came true. But her last dream was still alive and out of her reach.

Tamlin started to become her thoughts and dreams after one night of celebrating. They were both so excited and happy to be there. Buffy also met extended con artist allies that night. As the night went on, the hotel beds were kept empty. Tamlin didn't leave her side at all that night. Before that, the pair had little quarrels but it wasn't anything bitter. That night changed her. When she went to the bathroom to fix her makeup, the pair of them got distracted and ran up to Tamlin's hotel room. At age seventeen, she finally made love to him. It was lovemaking. They were both so sure of it. It wasn't over some drunk thoughts or in-the-moment spirals, they made love .

They never added a label. They still agreed that they were both strangers. But, they knew a lot about each other. Hell, the whole group knew about their lives. Tamlin even met Buffy's family with the excuse of Tamlin being a child model when he was barely a teen. Night after night, they started hanging out. They ignored their feelings and stuck together. They knew they couldn't fall in love.

It wasn't like anyone hated them together. Despite the rule, Jana, Hari, Aryan and other people admitted they needed to get together. No labels, labels were stupid. They loved each other and that was enough. All they had to do was show their love.

And that's what they did. After Tamlin's eighteenth birthday, they made love again. Love was all they fucking needed.