Call Me a Thief (Harry Styles)

Prologue. Where Did it All Begin?

Wow. The much awaited, amazingly planned out prologue is here! Enjoy! :)

Prologue- Where Did it All Begin?

Beth-

            Notebook and pencil in tow, I want nothing more than to rush to the station, make my next headline for the newspaper; tell the world my thoughts about the current standing of the economy. I want to immerse myself in the everlasting height of writing, of taking my own words and putting them down on paper. But I want to write about things that are important to others. And after all, economics was my minor in college; and it has always been my forte in the wake of tight deadlines. Today, well, today is one of those days. I’ve been procrastinating, not thinking about the task at hand. The entire article is due to be published tonight by midnight, and I’ve yet to get a good start on it.

            The hot springtime air of Kure Beach, North Carolina, a coastal spread nestled into the deepest of city street enclosures, is comforting, even today. But I can’t concentrate on anything but the wind coming through my car’s window and the honking of the cars on the street. The little cat with the nametag, Dusty, is meowing restlessly in the backseat. Lucky I’d had my dog carrier in my car this morning or I would have never been able to rescue the little guy.

            Beth, stop. Stop thinking, just drive. Just drive. I place my foot on the pedal, inching forward quickly in my brand new Chrysler, the incessant horns beeping giving me a splitting headache. I look down for a split second to turn the air conditioning off; the windows are down and maybe, just maybe, I can keep that little kitten’s noise from killing my ears that way. When I look up, I remember where my gas needle had been perched this morning and groan. “Perfect timing…” I mutter, throwing my hands in the air. I have to get gas now, or I’ll never make it to the office at all. I check the time on the clock, nodding. I am already ten minutes late; no sense in trying to make it to work on an empty tank.

            The closest gas station, only a block from my position, is shoved snugly into a sparse tree pattern, probably the only place you can find trees here at the beach. The little side street that leads to it is bumpy and layered with gaping holes, but I maneuver the car easily through it, causing Dusty’s meow to fluctuate. If the situation wasn’t so tense, I might have laughed.

            I stop at the pump and pour the gas into the tank; I rush towards the door quickly to pay for the purchase. The smell of baking bread overbears even the small chime of the door as I walk into the store. The clerk, a bearded man in his fifties, waves politely at me. On cue, my stomach growls, reminding me of my forgotten breakfast. So I stomp my little feet over to the bakery counter, ordering a small roll of pumpkin bread, paying quickly and turning back just as fast. “All good,” I mumble, and that is when I hear it.

            It is the faraway sound of a gunshot, shattering glass, and a wailing kitten, followed by the sound of someone slamming through the front door of the shop, their heavy breathing overpowering the faded music coming from the store’s speakers. And more importantly, there is the sound of the whimpering sales clerk as he is backed into the corner by a man in a black mask, holding a gun. “Give me the money!” he shouts, wiping his head quickly and putting both hands on the small weapon. “Do it, now! I swear…” he begins to curse.

            The clerk complies, opening the drawer and handing the man wads and wads of bills. “All of it,” the burglar commands, making my heart reach out to his victim.

            I do the one thing I never thought I’d do. “Stop!” I yell as I come out from behind one of the aisles.

            The criminal jumps and glares at me, his gun still aimed at the clerk’s heart. “I’ll shoot him. Don’t call the police. I’ll shoot.”

            “I’m not going to call anyone,” I say nicely, scared out of my mind. All I’ve ever watched on TV, every show I’ve ever seen where the good guy had to face the bad guy… it is all flooding back to me; I try to make my mind piece it all together so that I can save the poor man’s life.

            I try to think about what God has done for me; how much I’ve been blessed just within the last year, even. I thank the Lord that even now, when I’m standing in front of a killer, I have security in Heaven. If he shoots me, I’ll live forever up there. That victim, well, he might not have that chance. I make the courageous decision quickly in my mind- give up your life, Beth. He may find Jesus that way.

            The burglar looks pointedly at me and sneers. “Don’t. You know what? Give me your phone. Right now.”

“I don’t have it,” I lie. “But…” I peek out the store’s dirty, painted glass to confirm my fears. “You’ve shot out my car’s window. The police will-”

“Don’t lie to me! And don’t give me that crap!” the man shouts, his eyes circling the room fully. “I’ll kill both of you!” He suddenly rears back and shoots at the ceiling. Instead of scaring me, like he expects, the glass from the light fixture in the ceiling smashes, falling on his head in surprisingly large chunks. He stops, pulling his hands over his head, and that’s when I run.

I don’t run out of the building, no. I run for the man, trying to take the gun away. But he is faster. After a mere few seconds of struggle, he turns the gun at just the right angle, and just when I reach the gun with my right hand, he fires.

I wake up in a pile of sweat.

I had almost died that day. But I’d also sparked something that no one could ever imagine… something that God had granted me with through His Grace. Through that mercy and grace, I found love. Not only God’s love, but the love of a man I never imagined would love me, much less do the things he’s done for me.

I lay still, missing him, wondering what he’s doing and whether he’s thinking about me. I wonder if he ever thinks about what has transpired from day one. I wonder if, like me, he ever just looks back and thanks the Lord for every single event that has happened.

I wonder if he ever thinks about the very day it all started.