I never claimed to be a perfect kid. Everyone just thought I was the better of the brothers. And what they didn't know didn't hurt them. I was never very proud of what I did. I didn't brag to my friends that I smoked. I just was casual about the whole thing. It's just normal behavior. So the day I was at the CD store working and the red haired dude left his wallet on the counter, I didn't return it. I didn't call after him and scream that he left his wallet. I just took it and put it under the counter. It's not like I would've taken credit cards, if he had any, I just needed a little extra cash. So I didn't call after him.
When I got home that day after my double shift, I opened the wallet and took out his ID. Axel Kane, it read. The guy had half-diamond tattoos under the bright-green cat-like eyes...which were suddenly staring me down as if saying, "How dare a stupid blonde kid take my wallet?" I stared at the card a moment longer before I threw it down, disgusted with myself. It's not like the guy knew I had his wallet. So I searched through the rest of it. Two fives and a ten. A little spare change. I glanced over at the ID card again, and found myself unnerved by the way it seemed to look at me and see through my soul. Annoyed and a bit nervous, I turned over the card and pocketed the cash. That night when I went to bed, I couldn't sleep, haunted by the searching eyes that seemed to follow my every move even when the card wasn't near me. Finally, I got out of bed, went to the table and took out a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. Quickly flipping over the card before I could change my mind, I cut across the offending picture. Immediately, I felt my stomach drop. I don't know why, but it scared me to see the guy's face cut in half. My heart quickened, as if afraid I had harmed the actual guy from cutting his picture.
Panicked, I went back over to the counter and grabbed some clear packing tape from the front of the drawer. Cursing as I cut my finger on the metal bit on the end of the tape dispenser, I hurriedly ripped off a strip of tape and smacked it across the white piece of plastic. I suddenly felt better. I winced and went over to the hall table and grabbed the leather brown wallet. I searched for an address on the thing and was rewarded when a slip of paper fell out with the dude's identification on it. I slipped the taped card into the wallet and smacked it down on the table as I went to get my coat and keys.
The next afternoon when Axel Kane checked his mail, he found his leather wallet with a damaged photo ID in it and a note scrawled across the back in permanent marker, 'Sorry dude.' But there was no cash inside. You didn't expect me to change all my ways, did you?