Not Broken

Two: I'm going to die... right?

ROMEY'S POV

"wake up you useless f****t!!" Damian's voice yells seconds before unlocking the door to the closet I live in and dragging me down the hallway by my curl black hair. "you're gonna steal $500 dollars today to make up for your laziness yesterday!"

LAZINESS?! the "laziness" he's referring to is the fact that he and his friends beat me up so badly I couldn't stay conscious for more than 10 seconds if they made me move.

I'm so caught up on the use of the word lazy that my exhausted brain glosses over that fact that he said I was stealing $500 in one day! is he delusional!? I'll get arrested or stabbed by a mark! usually I steal peoples wallets take at most $30 from there wallets then I either drop it on the ground or return it if they're oblivious. I can't take too much because Damian refuses to take me anywhere further than one area of the city so if I draw attention I will not be able to keep stealing.

how the fuck does he expect me to steal $500 in one day? he usually only lets me walk around for 3-4 hours so that means id have to steal around $30 from FOUR people every hour. I'm going to jail. no doubt in my mind a cop is gonna notice and arrest me. normally the thought of jail terrifies me but after 18 months with Damian and his rapist friends the thought of prison almost brings tears of happiness to my eyes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ a few hours later on the street

"I'm going to get a drink. you better be right here with more money when I get back," Damian growls at me a goes to wait in a very long line at a Starbucks that, I know from past experience, takes forever to serve drinks.

I swipe a wallet from an incredibly hot guy. like I cannot express with words how gorgeous this man is. his face would make the straightest homophobic prick want to lick his entire body. I feel more guilt for stealing from this goddess of a man than I would ever feel for stealing from 20 sweet defenseless grandma's. I don't care if that makes me a slut I pride myself on being as honest as possible. I pull out three $20 bills cause this dude is loaded (which makes me feel less guilty) and notice his drivers license says his name is Mason Milke and pause... it's fake... a really good fake but still a fake. I should know, me and Acid used to make fake I.D.s using our fences equipment when the weather was too bad to steal from people. I ponder for a second why this guy has a fake I.D. then laugh wondering why anyone would pick "Milke" as a last name.

I decide it's not any of my business and walk towards him to slip it back in his jacket pocket when he lifts his arm to scratch his ear and I see a fucking gun in his waistband.

fucking hell

I have the worst luck ever.

I decide putting it back in his pocket is too risky so I squat next to a trashcan he stood next to a couple minutes before "pick up" his wallet off the ground while simultaneously stuffing the money I took from his wallet into my left sock.

"excuse me sir!" I say putting on my 'so sorry to bother you but I'm an incredibly kind and observant person who noticed you dropped your wallet and instead of stealing it I'm returning it to you as fast as possible' face.

Beauty Embodied turns around and glares at me. I know 5' 9" is average height but I feel 3 inches tall right now and when he moves closer I have to put all my concentration into not running away from his intense icy blue eyes.

"uh so sorry to bother you but you dropped you wallet by the trash can and I figured you'd want it back," I say proud when my voice doesn't portray the absolute turmoil his gaze is putting my mind through. 'now is not the time to pop a boner! focus Romey!'