Thief

II.

16 Years Later:

I moved out of the orphanage many years ago, and really haven't looked back. I currently live in the alley of the largest street in Corona. No one seems to notice me, at night, which is why I live there. I like not being noticed, living in the shadows of my own little world.

            Even though I don't look back, I still go back to the orphanage, and tell stories to the children. Stories of myself. But instead of telling about the shitty person I was, I told about how I was humble, dashing rogue, who had the many to do anything. Lies, all lies. Although, it made them happy, and happy was something I wish I had.

+ + +

I was tripped.

            "What the hell?" I yelled, while standing up; brushing myself off.

            "What?" replied a man at least a foot taller than me, 7 foot at most, wearing worn out slacks with a holey sleeveless shirt, who smelled, bad. He seemed much disheveled; hair not parted in one particular way, with a very, very long beard. I recognized him: Elijah Callaway.

            I was surprised, he stood alone. He never stood alone, especially when walking through Town Square.

            "What the hell is wrong with you?" I repeated. He didn't like that. He shoved me, and I tumbled into a stack of barrels filled with water. Shit, I mumbled.

            I retaliated, punching him right in the jaw. This put him into a shock, but not for long. He then grabbed me by the shirt, and shoved me against the wall. He is strong, was the only thing I could fathom as my vision began to tunnel. But I couldn't black-out, not now. I couldn't lose.

            Immediately, I kicked my foot right in his groin, sending him groaning away from me giving me some time to gather myself. He came rushing back; I ducked under his incoming fist, as I witnessed him charging into the wall, face first. Then, the guards.

            "SHIT!" I yelled. I ran but was stopped by again, a foot, of Elijah Callaway, sending me into the brick floor.

+ + +

I woke up in a dark, rock room, alone, with my left arm chained to the wall, restraining me from moving any more than 4 feet.

            "What the-" I was cut off as a short, stubby, and fairly plum man walked into the cell. Immediately I lay back down, pretending I was still sleeping.

            "I know you're awake," he said, very abruptly, "I've been watching you through the bars."

            I stood up. "Why am I here?" I asked.

            "Seriously?" he laughed. "You almost killed someone." I almost killed Elijah? I only fought him, without much force, actually. "I just wanted to ask you some questions."

            "Okay," I said as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, "What do you want to know?"

            "What happened?"

            "When?" he looked at me as if to say seriously again, but this time, just with his expression. "Okay, okay. Well I was walking through Town Square..." I gave him the whole story. The whole truth.

            "Thank you. But that's not what I heard, from Elijah." He replied.

            "What did he say?" he told me Elijah had said that I charged him randomly, and that I shoved him into the barrels. "What a jerk," I mumbled without the plump man hearing.

            "I'll see you later, Rider." He walked out.