Thief
The girl ran down the jagged path leading down to the lake. The sky was a solid black, the clouds seemingly refusing to allow any light through.
Drip. Drop.
She heard the heavy breathing of the cop, and his footsteps began to slow. She smiled to herself; she knew she was losing him.
Turning a sharp corner into an alleyway, she quickly ducked down behind a dumpster, slowing her breathing. These scenarios were all too familiar. She'd snatch a purse from the richest person she could find on the street, then bolting away after the person had realized what she's done.
She had a feeling that today, her day would go by a whole lot easier. The cop nearest the old woman she had just recently robbed was a bit heavier than the average policeman. She had a feeling she'd lose him in under 5 minutes. He seemed to have no intention of moving, much less chasing a thief down the street.
Sure enough, after she quieted her breathing, she heard the steps stumble to a stop, before hastily hurrying off in the other direction.
Just to be safe, she waited a couple minutes more before she stood up, wiping the mud off her jeans. Well, at least attempting to do so. She'd been wearing the same outfit- a long-sleeve black shirt, and pale blue jeans.
13-year-old Misaki Fujioka had never considered herself a thief. She just needed money; not for selfish reasons. For necessities, like clean water, or food. And every once in a while, maybe a cinnamon bun from the bakery.
Misaki's philosophy was that if a person were rich enough to wear a fur coat, alligator boots, and 20 pounds of precious jewelry, they could spare some money for her. She made the point to only pick on the ones she knew were loaded.
She could easily sympathize with the poor, so she made sure to leave them out of the equation.
Misaki looked down to see what she had gotten her hands on this time. The purse was reasonably light, although she knew there was probably a lot of cash.
She was mostly right. Besides about 8,500 yen, the rest were checks, along with other strange currencies from another country. She sighed.
She couldn't cash out any checks without getting people a bit suspicious. Exchanging the foreign money for yen was out of the question.
Regardless, she still had a reasonable amount of money, so she set out to the city again.
The rain was falling heavily now, so Misaki began to head back to the city, using a different route than before.
She made a point to stop at the church, to put in a thousand-yen bill. Somehow, that made her feel slightly better about the sins she had committed that day.
After twisting and turning around the meandering streets and sidewalks, she had finally arrived at her home. At least, that's what she ha called it.
In the darkened alleyway, a huge dumpster. Although it seemed impossible to move, there was a hole cut in its side that acted like a doorway. After walking through the doorway, another hole, this time leading into a room.
It seemed to have originally been part of a building, but had fallen away and corroded, leaving it useless. There was no other way of leaving the room besides the dumpster, which had covered up the hole in the wall.
Misaki had discovered this a while back, after having to relocate from her original 'home'. She had had to leave that one since the police station had moved into the building across the street.
The room was empty, apart from the scattered blankets on the ground, a broken light hanging from the ceiling, and a little wooden box in the corner.
Misaki cautiously opened the box, taking all measures to make sure nothing inside would get damaged.
She dropped the money into the box, then lifted up a thin silver chain necklace. On the end of the chain was an emerald pendant. It had originally belonged to her mother. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and quickly put the necklace down, and shut the lid.
Believe it or not, Misaki had a normal life when she was younger. She lived in a real house, went to school every day, and had real friends.
Everything had been so peaceful and calm, she had taken the whole thing for granted. Until her father died of a heart attack.
Her mother had been devastated. She had always overheard her crying in her bedroom by her self. Misaki had never known what to do. Leaving her to her own thoughts. Like how her father had never suffered from heart problems before.
He had had a position in the government, working as a detective for cases in Japan. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, besides the fact that he never told anyone about his work. Then that fateful day had come, leaving everyone in shock.
Misaki shook her head. The more she thought about it, the more she thought about death. She had become far too much accompanied with it.
With a sharp breath out, she lay down on the hard gravel. The blankets, being of poor quality, did nothing to prevent the rocks from digging into her skin. She had given up on trying to get comfortable, so she closed her eyes, and let sleep draw her into its never-ending abyss of darkness.
Little did she know that she was being watched.