Diamond-ize
I was young once; innocent, lighthearted. Foolish.
I once let myself believe that it would all work out perfectly- that somehow things would magically fix themselves.
My mother always taught me to think that way- to believe that there was light at the end of the tunnel. But sometimes you get hit by the train instead.
Besides, her philosophy left her dead in the long run.
So I was left with my father. My poor, wicked father.
He wasn't bad at first. He was nice back when my mother was around- the kind of father everyone looked up to.
But when she was gone, I guess the last bit of sunshine was blotted out for him.
We didn't have much money. Less than we needed, anyway. But he didn't really help much.
He tried to find a job, for the first months. And then he gave up.
No one wanted him.
So we had to steal to get by.
At least, that's what he chose to do. He brought me up in the art of it, told me I was more skilled at it than he was.
I noticed he was becoming harsher- sometimes he would be verbally abusive.
It was only the times when I couldn't get enough money for us. That's what he said; but I knew otherwise. We had just enough, but he wanted more than that.
And he wanted me to obtain it for him.
I knew this, I knew he was using me.
But I was afraid to speak up about it, especially the longer it went on.
There was one time I spoke up, there was one time I told him that we had enough money for what we needed.
He hit me. I never forgot that.
I remember crying in my bedroom that night, I remember wanting so badly for my mother to be there.
I remember cursing my father's name.
I remember feeling completely trapped in a downwards spiral.
I remember deciding to leave that very night- and I did.
I opened my window, looked into the vast, star-filled sky, and looked over the city.
And I left my father behind- with no one to steal for him. I always wondered what happened to him- did he end up in a prison somewhere? Did he ever think of me, and wish I were there to serve him? Did he end up going insane?
I couldn't care less, and that's what I decided.
But I was all alone, at age fifteen. Living on the streets and trying to make things work out- like my mother always said it would.
Well, that part was partially true. But it never was the way I expected. Because I had to do things I never thought I'd do, and I had to sink to the lowest to get anywhere in life.
I survived by the 'art' my father had taught me.
I improved greatly, to be honest.
Soon I could even break into a museum and take something-like a jewel- and almost never be found.
It was a gift, at least, that's what I always thought.
But I did eventually get found- arrested by the police.
But I broke out of prison- because it would take more than that to stop me.
I had escaped more than iron bars before.
My life took a shocking turn when the government called for me- and apparently not for imprisonment.
They wanted to use my talent for their work.
Well, I couldn't say no. But I wasn't extremely faithful in it…
They didn't trust me at first, and rightfully so, and always had me closely watched; and a detonator attached to my wrist. It was fair.
And I took it as fair.
But I still snuck in some information that was solely for my purposes.
Because I never moved on from jewel thieving.
I guess I was as bad as my father.
Possibly worse, but I never made others do my work for me. Because that was my own business.
Eventually, GUN took me into their agency. Probably because they were stricter on their jobs. Probably because I was out of hand.
Didn't help much.
But I work with Shadow that way, and I suppose he's one of the ones who sees me clearly. Beyond what I play as myself.
But that's a whole other story…
And you can be the judge of this one.
A/N: Another test run. Use discernment, because this is an experiment in perspective.
I never really had an answer to the question- "Would you steal to survive?"
