I wanted to write something that resembled quality to me before my 18th. Guess what? I failed. It's my 18th today (August 4th). Whether or not I failed with this story is your guesses what book this is inspired by gets an imaginative piece of cake. I've got vegan cake and normal cake.

Noiseless thief.

Noiseless thief. Looks around the corner. Slips around the corner. No footsteps could be heard. No sign of his existence could be found.
He stole. Not for money. But for survival.
And for somebody.

Handsome features, still just a teen. There still would be a little less than sixteen bright candles on the cake. The one that never was. The one he never had. And never would get.

Then brightness meant unprotected.
Unprotected meant getting caught.
Getting caught meant death.

Out of the hideout. Out into the town. Searching for clues. Noiseless thief knows whose data would be copied.
Always the same: Sneaking in, downloading, sneaking out. Sending.
Again and again the same.
Routine.

It was stupid. He knew. It was dangerous. Of that he was sure.

The beaten dog's only desire is not to be beaten anymore.
But he waits. Because his master wants it to.
Hits raining down.
And as the desire grew, so did a different one.
Vengeance.
And so he steals for somebody.

The somebody who made him feel human, showering him with attention. Making him feel loved. Desired. His golden angel, his seducer.

He slipped into the vent. Out of the room.
Forward. Right. Left. Down. Left. Right. Right.
He was a noiseless thief. Looking outside. Slipping outside. Not breaking silence or flowers. He was a smart thief.

A light went on. A suppressor whispered. A light was knocked out. Another as well.
He wrinkled his nose. But it didn't matter anyway. They would know the next day. It wouldn't matter anyway.
They already tried to kill him.
Countless times. Nameless times.

He sneaked off the compound. Down the streets. Into the town. Sinuous lines. Out of town. Into the hideout.

Safe.

Maybe he would see tomorrow.

He snapped his mobile open, selecting the number of him.
«Survived today.» He tipped down quickly and paused for a split second, then added, «Would love to see you once more.» He selected the data, added them as well and sent the message. Work finished. Mobile turned off. Face hidden in the pillow.

He knew he would have written back.
But they had tried to kill him as well.
He couldn't trust.
He wouldn't trust.
He wouldn't stop being in love.
He couldn't.

Gareki closed his eyes. The light just dimmed. Shady shadows dancing around. Thoughts wandering.

He was afraid.
Terrified even.
But not for himself.
Never for himself.
Because his life was already over.

He fought to fall asleep. More and more thoughts were his enemy. Unrelenting stand up to him, stopping him from falling into a needed sleep.

He counted sheep.
He starred at the wall.
He finally fell into a restless sleep.

Shapeless monsters. Gripping for him. Pulling on him. Restless. Torturing. Killing him.
He woke up, sweat running down his face.
Gareki gripped for his mobile, turning it on, reading though the newest message, calming down. Promises made, beautiful promises, he wanted to believe. He couldn't believe.
He wasn't even a dog anymore. Just a dirty sewer rat.

His world was in the shadows.
His world was in ruins.
He might collect them, building a new world.
One can live in or spacious obviate.
Because a broken world will never completely heal.

Scarred world.

Good evening.
You may open the curtains. Take a seat.
The theatre will start in just a few moments.