I curl my fingers around the small gold credit and hold my hand close to my chest. I walk blindly down the street, bumping into random strangers and hurriedly muttering apologies to them. I self-consciously rub my left arm and shudder, walking faster, but attempting to avoid passers-by. They don't and they shouldn't know... I remind myself and exhale deeply, slipping through an alleyway and behind a battered fence before plopping down onto the ground.
Pulling my left sleeve up, I close my eyes and begin fingering my forearm. Suddenly I feel something dip and then rise, like a hole, but then feel thick liquid oozing out of it and my eyes snap open. I retch, wrinkling my nose up and looking away, feeling completely sickened by what I've just saw. Just below my wrist on my left arm is a visible hole, about two centimetres long. It goes all the way down to my bone. And if that wasn't enough, flowing out of it is a thick black substance which is streaming down my arm. I retch again before pushing my sleeve down and leaning against the wall behind me, closing my eyes and breathing in heavily. So I'm infected with a contagious disease. The disease...
I shake my head and bite my lip. How is this possible? Could it have been carried? By food perhaps? Maybe in the air? I shake my head again and raise my hand to my temple. How can this be happening?
And then suddenly, out of the blue, an aching spasm hits me and I feel a wave of nausea and dizziness. I'm about to close my eyes, but I bang them open again. No, no, no, no, no. No. These are symptoms of the disease, I know it! Dizziness, nausea, spasms... Soon, for the emotionally harmed people (about two percent of the current population) there would have panic attacks, seizures, breakdowns and fits, in addition to stress and depression. I have been warned about this, especially as my broken past may class as "emotionally harmed."
I shake my head again and scramble to my feet, putting on the short, sideways smile which I use to charm shopkeepers. I push the thought of the disease out of my head and cover up the mark, strolling down the busy street, gently humming to myself. Who to pickpocket today? Not a shop owner, that would attract too much attention... And suddenly I snap my fingers at my ingeniousness and turn around to the railway stations, remembering to stay hidden behind a stack of boxes. Rubbing my hands together, I glance up at the clock and station myself, ready to run.
A tall man with a ponytail at the back of his head and a yellow-green top under his uniform steps out from the street, ready for his patrols. He slips his wallet into his pocket, and then some loose money, about twenty pounds, into the same pocket. I breathe deeply and run.
My hand goes into the pocket and out, and the man stares at me with disgust, administering what I've just done. I laugh, sticking my tongue out childishly and chortle. This is so easy. And then, suddenly, completely unexpectedly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and the man is pulling me back. I stare up at him lost for words. Okay, I've been caught before, but never by the police! I crumple the money in my hand and shove it into my pocket, breathing heavily. My head feels dizzy and I sway slightly.
"Hey kid, are you going to give the money back or not?" I can vaguely hear the police shouting in my ear, but my stomach heaves and my airways feel as though they are completely trapped. I gasp for air, gagging, feeling nauseous. I can see the man's face, blurred by dizziness, staring at me with horror. I attempt to breathe again, but choke. The last thing I hear is the wail of the ambulance before I pass out.