Stealing in the Second Degree

Hello! Here is my second story:), even though I haven't really finished my first one yet... oops. Anyways, my fingers have been itching to write this story and the characters have been screaming in my head:

"Free me! Free me!"

Enjoy.

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"In going from room to room in the dark, I reached out blindly to save my face. But neglected, however lightly, to lace my fingers and close my arms in an arc. A slim door got past my guard, and hit me a blow in the head so hard. I had my natice simile jarred. So people and things don't pair anymore. With what they used to pair with before."    -Robert Frost

I tugged the red, woolen hat over the little girl's mass of copper curls that stuck up in every direction. Her eyes disappeard under the soft material, and she gave a little giggle.

"Now, Claire," I started, quite sternly, as her little body squirmed and wriggled with energy. "I need you to be good today, alright?" I tugged the rim of the hat up so that two stunningly blue eyes peered out at me. She gave a very enthusiastic nod and a crazed grin.

I wasn't sure that was very comforting.

"Yes! I will be so good that-that Mrs. Pockshill won't want to give me back to you!" She teased, bringing her two small hands to my cheeks and squeezing my lips out. I frowned a little. I knew how much Mrs. Pockshill loved Claire; I also knew how  the old lady was very 'unsure' of me. I pulled gently away and grabbed Claire's hand. 

"I wish I could just stay with you all day." I mumbled as we walked out of the motel, my suitcase rolling behind me, trembling with every pothole we went over.

Claire squeezed my hand. "But then, I wouldn't be able to steal you some of those snickerdoodles." She whispered. I froze and looked down at her.

"Don't take things from other people. " I whispered back, harshly. The six year old looked taken back.

"They are just cookies." Her lower lip trembled. I let out a sigh and crouched down. 

"It doesn't matter. It's a bad habit. Stealing is stealing. Are you a thief?" I asked her. She shook her head vigurously. "Okay, then. Maybe sometime we can make some cookies."

As soon as we found a home.

The streets were empty and early spring snow flakes were lackadaisically falling to the ground. I let out a barely audible sigh as we neared Mrs.Pockshill's large estate. The garden out front was asleep and dull in the cold winter air, and the iron gates that protected the house had brown, dead ivy covering them, instead of the bright green leaves that came in the summer. 

"Bye, Esme!" Claire's hand slithered out of my own as she trotted up the walk. Suddenly, she stopped and turned, running back to me. We looked at each other for a moment, before she wrapped her arms around me. I grinned and hugged her back.

And as quick as she had come, she was gone. The large door opened and I could see Lisa Pockshill, dressed in an elgant angora sweater. She gave Claire a hug and then looked up towards me. Her mouth forced a polite smile.

 I waved, but she had already shut the door. I took in a deep breath and turned stiffly away.

I was going to buy that house today. I had enough money left. We had barely made it through this week.

But tonight, I would strike again. I would be that thief. I would stoop that low. 

I bit my lip until the pain was unbearable. I licked away the tiny droplets of blood.