Robbing justice

It was a dark, cloudy night... but the street lights spoiled the effect with their orange glow shining down on the street below. Although, I suppose, it could be used in my favour, the light would prevent anyone seeing clearly into the shadows – where I would be lurking. I slunk into a covered doorway and watched enviously as a couple strolled down the street with linked arms. My gaze immediately snapped to the watch on his wrist – a Rolex probably... rich fucking bastard.

Could I? My bodyweight had shifted to the balls of my feet in preparation to jump out at them; but I hesitated, could I really mug someone? I knew I was planning on burglary, but that didn't involve beating anyone up. By the time I had finished debating with myself, the couple had passed by and the opportunity was lost. I nervously waited for them to turn the corner before bowing my head against the light and making my way towards my destination.

I was only a street away now. How was I going to do this? My feet automatically slowed. How was I going to find any money? I hesitated and shoved my hands in my pockets. Did she keep much money in the house? I started bouncing my leg. What if I couldn't find any money? I started chewing on the skin around my thumbnail – an old nervous habit I'd been trying to break – before deciding that I'd been hesitating in the middle of the street entirely too long. My time was rapidly running out.

I began walking down the gloomy street again, this time I was marching purposefully towards the house. I glared up at the houses as I passed, resenting the occupants for their good fortune. Rich snobs, why couldn't we have that? There they all were, sleeping in their nice, comfortable, expensive beds, with the central heating on because they could afford to pay the bill on time with their fancy, well-paid office jobs. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my tatty, worn jeans as if I could somehow find a spark of heat to thaw my frozen fingers.

I picked up my pace, the night was cold and I just wanted to get this over and done with and it wasn't long before my teeth started chattering, reminding me of exactly how cold it was tonight – as if I needed the reminder. I could see my frosty breath rise in front of my face – a contrast with the darkness surrounding me – as I walked through it. I ignored the ghostly vapours just as thoroughly as I was ignoring my conscience... I had yet to decide if it was a good thing – ignoring my conscience that is.

What? Just because I'm about to burgle someone doesn't mean I like the fact that I'm about to do it; you know, desperate times call for desperate measures and all that shit. Though I suppose none of the people sleeping comfortably in those houses would know anything about being desperate... Stupid upper-class snobs.

Finally, I was staring at the house I was going to rob... or maybe finally was the wrong word. Finally implied that I'd been looking forward to this, when in reality, I was still half convinced I wouldn't be able to go through with it – I told you I had a conscience! So, in my uncertainty, I had picked a house with one single resident: a woman.

I had seen her come and go a few times, she was always one of those well-put-together types; you know, always had her hair and nails done nice, always in those ridiculous high-heels women wear... delicate. She just seemed to scream the word. Oh I was sure if we were in a business meeting she would be able to take me down without breaking a sweat... but I wasn't planning on going to a business meeting with her.

She had long brown hair that would have been shiny if she didn't use so much hairspray all the time; a dead mahogany I suppose, with eyes to match. Her skin was extraordinarily pale, you could see all the veins running under her skin; she obviously shied away from the sun. Her translucent complexion, coupled with her short, waif-like frame made her look sickly. I almost shuddered just thinking about it.

I had seen her entering and leaving the house a couple of times, she was young; too young to be able to afford that house on her own, she was probably from old money. This was definitely going to help with the whole conscience thing, the fact that she had probably had everything handed to her on a silver platter since birth.

I know I was a coward, praying on a single woman who lived alone... but the less chance of confrontation, the better. I didn't think I could handle a fight, I panic way too easily – and panicking was never good for anyone. I looked up at the house and was it just me or did it look a lot scarier than the others on the street? I looked at the eerie colours cast by the street light and the deep shadows that felt as if they could suck me in. I shook my head; of course I knew I was just imagining things...

I slowly walked up the stone steps to the front door. Taking a deep breath, I tried to recall what I'd been taught about picking locks. I'd only practiced it a couple of times before and with my nerves it took me almost ten minutes of crouching at the door, fumbling with icy fingers and freezing various extremities off, to get the door to open.

I couldn't help but cringe at the little squeak the door gave as it swung open. I knew the small sound probably wouldn't wake anyone, but you could never be too careful, right? I took my shoes off and left them at the door – another stealth trick I picked up, this time while sneaking back into my bedroom in the early hours of the morning... it's a lot easier when you're sober – not that I got drunk a lot, but just enough to know how to hide the evidence. Mum didn't need the extra stress.

It was only half past eleven, but then again, I knew she wouldn't be awake. I had plenty of time. I pushed the door so it was open only a crack – shutting the door would be too noisy but leaving it open would make the house cold – then crept down the carpeted hall to the spacious living room. I looked around but there weren't many places to hide money here. But if I didn't manage to find any cash, I probably be able to get a decent price for her ornaments, this place just screamed money. Loudly and obnoxiously. It was an honest wonder how she hadn't been burgled before.

I eased the draw to a small table open but only found a necklace, a book, a pair of glasses and some coasters. Not good – although I almost pocketed the necklace, mum's birthday was coming up soon. But I reminded myself that I was here for cash only. I snuck back into the hall and went further into the house to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a whole other story; I honestly tried my hardest to be quiet as I manoeuvred around the kitchen, aiming for the bag that I'd seen the woman carrying around with her. That would surely have some money in it... if I could find it that is; how much crap did this lady need?

There were pots and pan everywhere, and plates – both clean and dirty – piled up on the counters. Did the maid call in sick this morning? I couldn't believe that this kitchen was nearly as messy as our whole house! And the sheer volume of pans, who could ever cook that much in one go? Who would ever need to cook that much in one go?

... Apart from Gordon Ramsay, that is.

-x-

I awoke with a start, I'd thought I heard some pots and pans banging. But I was in my bed, and the room was dark and quiet. There was a sliver of cold, grey light on the other side of the room, coming in from a gap in the curtains that I just couldn't stop looking at. I knew it was going to bug me so I got up and closed the stupid curtains and slowly made my way back to bed – where I had left my brain.

I had just got settled in bed when I heard things being moved downstairs. Ugh! I had just got back into bed! But then I frowned to myself, I lived alone. So, I was either hearing things... or there was an intruder in my house.

I panicked.

I was a girl, I was short and I definitely wasn't very muscular... there was no way I was ever going to win a fight against a burglar or anything. I slowly got out of bed, because obviously my brain decided to ignore the odds of me getting out of this alive, but as a precaution I grabbed the massive torch that I'd gotten as a birthday present from my dad. It was hard and heavy, and it was my dad who first suggested using it as a weapon.

I slowly crept down the stairs, holding the torch loosely by my hip so my arm wouldn't ache from holding it above my head all the time. My hands were slightly shaking now as I neared the bottom of the stairs, I could quite clearly hear someone in my kitchen. I took a deep breath and tried to will myself to calm down.

It didn't work.

So I forgot trying to calm down – the adrenaline rush would probably work in my favour anyway. I gradually made my way to the kitchen door, trying to remain hidden until the very last second. I peeked through the crack in the kitchen door, trying to make out dim shapes in the dark room beyond.

As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I managed to make out a gloomy figure moving about in the shadows. It was one thing to simply think there was someone in my house and it was an entirely different thing to actually know there was someone in my house.

The revelation was neither pleasant nor welcomed.

I jerked back from the door, my hand clamping down on my mouth as I began panicking even more. What the hell am I going to do!

I hesitated at the door, trying to sort through my thoughts, while at the same time, aware that my time to think could be up at any moment. I wondered what he was looking for.

My breathing became louder as I began to hyperventilate, I was semi-aware that if I carried on like this for much longer, the burglar was going to notice me. He seemed pretty intent on what he was doing and I was sort of thankful for that as I managed to get my breathing under control. I was still terrified though.

And then my brain started working.

The police! I should've just called the police! Why didn't I think of this before? Oh I was so stupid! I snuck down the hallway and into the living room because, first, I didn't have my mobile on me and second, I didn't want the burglar to hear me.

I pushed the living room door open, wishing desperately that it wouldn't creak... but my door always creaks so I only pushed it wide enough to slide my body through the crack. I could still hear the low sounds of the intruder in my kitchen, he was occupied... for the moment.

I tried to ease my body through the incredibly small gap that was left and internally cringed when it became obvious that I wouldn't fit through. Oh god, I would have to get through here to get to the phone, but if I do go through here, the intruder will hear me. It was a catch twenty-two. I decided to chance it.

I eased the door open a little more – it hadn't creaked yet – and shuffled a bit further into the room, I could see the phone now and thought to myself that I might as well make a run for it as the door was going to creak and at least if I ran I could get to the phone before the intruder got to me. Probably...

I turned scrambled for the phone as soon as I heard the thundering footsteps behind me. I was trembling so much I was having difficulty dialling the number I needed – simple as it was – and I was surprised I hadn't dropped the heavy torch on my foot.

-x-

My plans for being quiet were kinda going out the window. All her pots and pans were stacked so precariously that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the banging and clanging. I cringed with every sound that was ricochetting and echoing through the house. Why couldn't things be simple just this once? People get away with robbery everyday, then go and do it again! All I wanted was a little extra cash to help mum out.

Ugh! I wasn't going to find anything; so why bother? This was fucking pointless! And if what's-her-face wakes up and calls the police... well, mum doesn't need another kid in prison. Although I'm not eighteen yet; and I wouldn't exactly count drug manufacture and dealing, and theft as being in quite the same category of offences...

Oh god. I'm a fucking criminal!

Not good not good not good!

When my brother James got put away, I swore to myself, after seeing my mum shed tear after tear for the bastard, that I wouldn't end up like my brother... but now now look at me! In the act of robbing a fucking house! Or chickening out of robbing a fucking house as the case may be...

I could feel myself starting to panic, so I sat down on one of the stools that lined the breakfast counter and placed my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the table. Why did it have to come to this? I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't tried to find a job – I'd applied to loads of places, but being in school and under eighteen was a huge obstacle in actually getting paid work in the largest city in England. The occasional babysitting gig just wasn't enough.

This just seemed like the only way. I know mum tried to hide it from us, but it was obvious she was getting thinner; she wasn't eating to make sure we got enough food. She wasn't eating to make sure Alice could go on the school trip she was really excited about. She wasn't eating to make sure we could still keep the telly.

I fucking hated it. I always made sure I left as much food as I could get away with on my plate and leave it in the kitchen for her, claiming I was full. But mum was still becoming more frail by the week. I felt so helpless, only being allowed to watch her waste away...

It wasn't worth it. How would I explain where the money came from? Mum would only worry more and she really doesn't need the added stress...

That decided it for me. I hopped off the stool and made my way back through the darkened hallway, however, I was only a few steps out into the hallway before there was a high-pitched creak and a small flicker of movement in my peripheral vision.

The panic set in.

I rushed to the door and banged it open. There she stood, not much older than me, but in that instant, she looked like a frightened little girl. She was holding the phone – only one guess as to the number she had dialled – and that was it.

It wasn't fair that I went to school, worked hard for the good grades that I got, for it to lead to nowhere because I couldn't afford to go to uni. It wasn't fair that my entire family had to struggle just to eat when there were so many people who took that for granted. It wasn't fair that I didn't even steal anything and I would still get done for it!

I lunged for the phone in a desperate attempt to stop her from calling the police...

-x-

I heard the door bang open – probably taking part of my expensive wall down as it did, I'd have to get dad to repair that – and suddenly the intruder was right there. In the doorway. Staring at me.

I turned to face him while backing into the small table the phone was previously stood on, it fell over but I didn't care; I hardly noticed. The burglar had such a menacing expression on his face, a blazing emerald fire in his eyes. He started stalking towards me. Slowly. Most likely contemplating the best way to devour his prey...

Me.

I was in such a panic now that I barely registered that the phone had stopped ringing and someone was now speaking to me.

"Help! I'm being robbed!" I screamed down the phone as the intruder launched himself at me.

I dropped the phone and swung the heavy torch, closing my eyes and praying to anyone who was listening that it would make contact and I wouldn't just make a fool out of myself.

It hit him, square on the ribs and he tumbled to the side of me. While he was distracted I picked up the phone again screaming into it my address and another plea for help before it was knocked out of my hand. I turned round, swinging the heavy torch with me, this time it connected just under his ribs, in the soft flesh of his side and he fell again, this time landing on my hardwood table and cracking his head. I saw the blood dribbling down his neck but it didn't seem like a lot, so I legged it.

I could hear the sirens of the police faintly now as I made my way into the hall, dropping the torch and stumbling along to the front door, where the burglar's shoes were and yanked the door open and stopped as I realised I would have to get my shaking under control before I had a hope of making it down the stairs in one piece.

I leant against the door frame and sank down so I was sitting, first things first, I needed to get my breathing under control or I might pass out from hyperventilation. I tried to slow my gasping, taking deep breaths... but I could only keep that up for a couple of seconds before I was back to gasping again. I didn't give up though, I kept trying, each time I was able to breathe normally for longer, until I didn't have to force it anymore.

By then, the police had arrived and I noticed for the first time that there was someone in front of me, trying to get me to respond. There were a few people rushing into my house with guns at the ready while I sat there, calmly observing everything as if I were an outsider looking into my own life...

How cliché.

Once I was deemed healthy and unharmed – just in shock – I was escorted into the police car, they wanted me to give my statement now. I had ten about minutes in the car to calm myself... it wasn't going to be enough. Logically, I knew I had nothing to be afraid of anymore, but try telling my emotions that. I had never been so terrified in my life! I was still trembling for god's sake and they want me to relive it mere minutes after it had happened! How could they even think that I would be able to cope with this!

I started crying on the way to the police station. Why had this happened to me? What had I done to deserve this? The usual unanswerable questions ran through my mind as I tried and failed to rationalise what had just happened to me. My subconscious had apparently decided that feeling sorry for myself would be a good option.

Maybe I should fire my subconscious.

We finally arrived at the police station and I was taken to a room to give my statement, I still had tears running down my face at this point and the officer took pity on me and asked if I wanted a coffee or anything, I replied, "Um, I'll have some tea thanks, milk, one sugar," and smiled weakly up at her as she left to make me my beverage.

Giving the statement was almost as draining as going through the actual experience, thank god for my tea! Honestly, I don't think I would've made it through the statement if I didn't have that with me. But I managed it before the police officers were asking if I had anywhere else I could stay tonight... oh shoot! The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Great; now I would have to ring up my parents in the middle of the night to see if I could stay with them.

Let's just say that – after that phone call – my right ear won't be working properly any time soon. Which might not be such a bad thing, I could just get her to shriek in the other ear too, I won't be able to hear them both ramble on about how I should move back home permanently... so not going to happen.

But my mum obviously hadn't realised that yet... and probably never will if I was honest with myself. I sighed and went back to reading my book.

I had been at my parents' house a grand total of two days and my mother was already planning my moving home, it was ridiculous! How I had managed to live with her for eighteen years, I will never know. But congrats to my dad for sticking their marriage out so long, now that is dedication. Or maybe he just has no soul left and it's all been eaten up by my mum. You never know, she could be a soul guzzling monster...

We were waiting for the police to call, my parents had both forcefully insisted that the police press charges and now we were going to court with my burglar... I was so looking forward to this. Not. It wasn't like the burglar got a chance to take much; I mean he only stole a necklace that I could easily replace. I would have rather forgotten about the whole thing and invested in a decent security system.

And a bedside phone so I could call the police as soon as I woke up and remain safely barricaded in my bedroom until the police came to my rescue.

In hindsight, I should've got that before this whole mess started.

I just couldn't believe it when, later in the day, I got the call we – my parents – had so anxiously been waiting for, only to have a lawyer on the other end of the phone saying, "Miss Isabella Swan?"

"Yes?" I replied.

"You are being sued by one Edward Cullen for assault; we would like to arrange a meeting with you and your lawyers as soon as possible. Enjoy the rest of your day miss."

What... the... fuck!

A/N – Ok, I know I haven't updated some of my other stories for a while and I'm honestly working on them; but this was written for my extended project and I already had it done, so I decided I could post it here! yay! R&R? please?