Running. Walking. Crawling. Hiding. Blending in. Standing out. Anything to survive in this crazy city they call Manhattan.
My name is Ruby, I'm sixteen and I live in the middle of Manhattan...in an alleyway.
That's right, I'm an orphan of sorts, but that doesn't mean I don't have a family. But I'll tell you about them later. Right now, I'll tell you about what I do for a living.
Most people don't consider thieving to be a profession, but it's just as important as factory jobs. I consider myself to be a regular Robin Hood, stealing from only those with pockets too small to hold their cash, to give back to the poor, namely, me and my family.
Besides, I only steal what I need to keep us alive. Those big wigs never even notice.
It was a normal day in Manhattan , exept for the fact that it wasn't normal at ALL. Just a few days earlier, I was SPOTTED...by him.
Who's this "him" you may ask? None other that the Devil himself. The one who kept me begging for death every night trapped in his sinister clutches, the one whose memorie lives on in both my nightmares and bruises, the one who taught me everything I know...have you guessed yet? Well, if you're particularly slow- it's my dad.
He may be deaf, but weakness never makes anyone weak, it only makes them more stronger, which is what scares me most about him.
I saw him on West Fifty Seventh Street just a few days ago, but more importantly, he saw me. I ran, unstoppable, for at least a hour straight- leading him off my trail. I haven't seen him since, so I've felt safe...well...as safe as I can with an abusive psychotic sociopath after my blood.
BACK TO THE PRESENT. It was a normalish day in the great state of New York, and as usual I was surviving. I had dressed like a boy to disguised myself from my father, my fiery red hair was tucked into my gray cap. My blue eyes and freckles were still visible and distinguishable traits so I still had to be careful.
The Market was always a fantastic place to work my stuff. Too many people to notice a kid running around pickpocketing folks too big for their britches.
An old lady walked by me with a brooch the size of my fist and a purse the size of me! Perfect mark. I nonchalantly walked towards the orange stand near her. The mark was still looking at peaches, squeezing each one to find the best, therefore ruining them for everyone else. I hate people like that.
I suddenly became very interested in the store behind her, slipped my fingers into her colossal purse and lightly rummaged around to find her VERY expensive looking coin purse, I emptied out it's contents with intent to return it. However, she had chosen that moment to begin yelling at the fruit seller, Mr. Roberts, about how ugly and squeezed the peaches looked.
I decided to keep the coin purse as well, just to knock her ego down a few notches.
This was my daily routine, varying with people and places until the end of the day came and I would buy the bread and sausages the stores had yet to sell and return home.
Little did I know that the next day, everything would change.
