Chapter 15

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I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I- I- I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fu*king awesome...

I skip right into a random store that says "Thrift Shop." It's barely lit, and I'm suprised it's even open. And yes, they are actually playing Mackemore's Thrift Shop. It's catchy, so I can't help skipping to the beat.

Wow. I look at the mess of this store. Everything is all over the place. How shall I ever find anything? Clothes are strewn over the hangars, floor, and lamps. I glance around and realize the place is empty save for the old man behind the counter reading a newspaper. His eyes glance upward at me ever so slightly as he pretends to read. I see you, you old man.

I pick out some pieces of clothing. I got boyfriend cut jeans, combat boots, graphic tee, and an grudgy, black leather jacket. Nope, not nerdy enough. I need to look innocent, inferior. Heck, I need to be glanced over like a nobody. I keep the jeans and the sturdy looking boots. I finally see the ugliest sweater, or is it a jacket, in the middle of the floor. It's perfect. I add in a gray collared, frayed shirt and a clunky, fake pair of oversized glasses. Then, I take a rubber band and tie my hair in a messy bun.

After changing in the rooms in the back, I come out and glance at the man sitting behind the counter. I usually shun the notion of stealing, but I don't have any cash on me whatsover. I don't have anything on me besides the weapons I stole from the fight beforehand. I doubt he's going to miss these pieces of clothing, but I'd rather not have another person after me.

Ah, choices and decisions. Let's see what a good samaritan's decision turns out to be.

"Excuse me?" I approach the counter.

The old Hispanic man puts down the newspaper and scrutinizes me.

"How much would this all be?" I motion to the outfit I'm wearing. "I know. I'm already wearing it, but my clothes were obviously trashed. Sorry." I try to appear sad and pitiful.

"That'll be $15." He eventually says. That's actually pretty cheap.

"I actually don't have any money on me right now, but would you accept this knife? It's a good knife I found." I take out my Zero Tolerance 610 ST Automatic Knife. It was one of the weapons I took. "Please." This time I'm not faking my desperation. I really need these clothes.

His hard eyes soften a bit. "I have a granddaughter like you. She's always up to no good, you know? Ah girls these days should not be out in the streets without a man to protect her." He shakes his head. "Take this bag and put as much as you need into it." He throws a dark green travel bag to me.

"Really?" I gasp. "You would do that for a stranger?"

"Hurry before I change my mind. I recognize someone who needs it." He grunts. "Just try not to end up with your face on the front page."

"Wow, I appreciate it. I really do!" I beam as I grab some more clothes, but I also take one more pair of combat boots. What a lucky find to see geniune leather boots perfect for running. "Thanks mister!" I run out of the store hurriedly. On my way out, I spot a bland, brown wig. I grab it before I leave the knife there because I have another two in my pocket. It probably costs more than $15. 

I run to no certain destination, but I'm hoping I eventually enter the better portion of the city. After a couple blocks, I realize I must be stupid. It's late at night, and I'm a young girl running crazily down the streets. I will certainly draw some attention if I keep running. I force myself to slow down and walk cautiously.

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