Robbers // Nash Grier

Chapter One

Chapter One

I grinned as I heard the sweet click of the door unlocking, and pushed open the expensive white door. I can tell it's expensive by the way the paint is still intact nicely, and the wood is still there, unlike the chipped and broken door to my own home.

It was one of those neighbourhoods, you know the ones where everyone owns way too much than they need, have too many guest bedrooms in their houses. I wouldn't call them homes, no, most of the people living in them couldn't even really be called families.

I stepped carefully in, my combat boots barely making a sound of the hardwood floor. The house smelt new, although I was sure it wasn't. It was simply barely lived in.

I quietly shut the door behind me, thankful that they didn't have an alarm. I stood there, stumped on where to look first. In front of me was a large wooden staircase which must lead to the bedrooms, to my left what looked like a large living room, and to my right a dining area. Or, I could have gone straight ahead, around the staircase, where there was a hallway that lead to somewhere I couldn't see. I chose the left.

Stepping carefully and lightly, I walked across the wooden floor into the living room, glad it was a moonless night.

I checked the coffee table first, searching for anything; a wallet, laptop, phone, anything I could get money out of. Nothing. Typical I would choose the family that takes these things to bed with them.

Tugging my black beanie back into place, I sighed before walking forward to check out the mantelpiece above the fireplace. There were photos, pictures I realised, of the family.

"Well isn't this nice," I muttered quietly to myself. There was the tall, dark, and handsome father situated next to the homely blond mother, the both of them smiling brightly. My attention moved towards a little girl in the front, her grin missing the two front teeth, eyes excited, golden hair tied in two long pigtails. I glanced to the young boy beside her, all dark hair and blue eyes, similar to his mother, although he had his father's eyes. He looked young, maybe fourteen or fifteen in this photo, but even at that age he had a cockiness about him. There were two more brothers, both looking like their father. One looked younger than the boy next to the little girl, the other older.

My eyes roamed over the other photos on the mantelpiece, and saw pictures of the whole family looking older. There were a few more of the son, and I couldn't help but smile at the picture of him and a group of his friends laughing in the sun, which wasn't rare in California. Looking at them, I realised they must have a step-mom, the blond woman in the first photo. They all looked so happy. It must be nice to have a family like that.

Now, I know what you're probably thinking. Why on earth would I break into such a lovely family's home? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they're great, but I'm struggling too. I live in an apartment with my best friend, and it's not like she does much to pay the rent, so stealing had become somewhat of a job to me. These people probably wouldn't miss what I took. If I could find a valuable damn thing, but I wasn't counting on it.

I turned from the mantelpiece, about to head into the kitchen, when I froze in my tracks. Footsteps. I glanced up, listening to the person walking around upstairs.

Go back to sleep. Go. Back. To. Sleep, I silently begged the person who had woken.

My eyes widened as the person quietly made their way down the stairs, not doing too bad of a job if I said so myself. I almost didn't hear them. Almost.

I sucked in a sharp breath, wildly searching for somewhere to hide. If they came in the living room, they'd be able to see me no matter where I was. All they had were two couches, a flatscreen TV, a bookshelf, and a fireplace. A robbers worst nightmare; a bare house. I shot behind one of the couches, and prayed to God it would keep me concealed.