Crime
Crime. Punishable by law. If you get caught. If you don't get caught. If there's no trial. Then it's not necessarily a bad thing. That's what I believed. I started out young. Stealing one book a year on my birthday. Pretty trivial when you consider what I got into later in life. I only stole the book because I loved to read. It was from a library and I didn't know you could borrow the books. My mother usually threw them out before I would've had the chance to return them anyway. I progressed slowly. My mother either didn't understand, or simply didn't care, that I needed three meals a day. I started out stealing apples from an outdoor fruit market. Just enough to tide me over for the time being. It was never enough though.
The abusive boyfriends forced me out on the street. Sometimes I had to spend the night. Other times I spent the night because I was too afraid to go home. I took to sleeping in the park. The park with the arch that served no purpose. The park was familiar. I knew the layout. I knew my escape route. It was uncomfortable. It was cold. I wasn't fearful. That's what I liked most about sleeping in the park. It felt safe. Though thinking back now, it was probably the least safest place to be. Several times I was approached by the police. They simply shined their flashlight in my face. Asked if I had a place to stay. Then moved on. I always circled the park and then went back to my bench. It was always the same bench. I liked the familiarity of that.
There were times I had to defend myself. Sometimes I knew the attacker. Sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I instigated the fight. Sought them out. I needed to feel powerful. In control. I just needed to feel something. Anything. Sometimes it was over territory. I claimed the corner of the park where my bench was located and I fought anyone who tried to take it from me. Some cried wolf. Tried to press charges. The majority should've been lucky that I didn't press charges. I never called the police. Never. I knew better. The police came again. This time for assault and battery. I was never charged. They took pity on me. I was let off with a warning.
Misdemeanors. A lesser crime. Usually punishable by a warning, fine, or small amount of jail time. All I had committed so far in life were misdemeanors. But there comes a time in life where misdemeanors just don't cut it anymore. Causing trouble. Not getting caught. Not getting punished. It becomes boring. You want something to change. You want to be sent away. You just need something to happen. Misdemeanors differ greatly from felonies. Felonies are tricky. Some felonies get you jail time. Other felonies get you the death sentence. I didn't want to die. Then again, my life wasn't much better than death. I wasn't going to kill anyone. Or maim anyone for that matter. The first and only felony I committed got me six months in a juvenile detention center. I got off easy.
My first felony. Makes me feel nostalgic. It was the stone that made the ripple. The effects from this one crime set my life into motion. It shifted course. I just didn't know it at the time. I stole a car. I didn't really have a reason. I was bored. The car was unlocked. The keys were in the ignition. I was bored. I didn't have any driving experience. It wasn't that hard to figure out. I was doing fine until I was cut off. I panicked. I turned the wheel. I crashed into a tree. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt. I was fine. Everyone was fine. The car was totaled. I was going to run, but the police showed up. I knew I wouldn't get off lightly this time. I didn't care.
The police. The cops. Everyone has a different name for them. I don't despise them. They're just doing their job. They pulled me from the wreck. They handcuffed me. They put me in the back of the police car. Even told me to watch my head. They read me my rights. Took me to the station. I didn't know the procedures. I was just glad that something was happening. Life had become a big rut. I was stuck. I was bored. And I didn't like where my life was going. This was definitely a welcome change. They fingerprinted me. Took my photo. Threw me in a cell with some drunk guy. They gave me a phone call. I declined. I had no one to call. No one posted bail. I stayed locked up until my trial. Twenty-three days later. It was a long twenty-three days.
The morning before my court date they asked if I had a lawyer. I told them no. They said they would appoint one for me. I declined. If I was being sent away I wanted a say in it. I didn't want to be able to blame some hotshot lawyer. I wanted to blame myself. They tried to get me to reconsider. I didn't listen. The time came and I was escorted into the court room. Shackled. Thankfully they trusted me enough to unchain me. The trial was fairly simple. I had an opening statement. I plead guilty. I gave my account. I gave a closing statement. I convinced the judge to lessen the sentence from one year to six months by showing remorse. I didn't care. Six months was nothing in a lifetime.
Juvenile detention. Juvie. A place where likeminded kids go for punishment. We'd all committed crimes. We should all be on the same level. However there was a hierarchy, and unfortunately I fell on the bottom of that. The first time I got beat up I thought I'd made a mistake. I got this at home. I didn't need it here. I fought back. I rose in the hierarchy until I was at the top. Everyone wanted to be my friend. I had no friends. I still got into fights, but I won the majority of them. Everyone sucked up to me. I put some normalcy back into the place. I made it so no one lived in fear. They still feared me. I was above them all. But I made it so everyone was equal. Before I left, I made good with all of them. So that when I left, no one would replace me and take over. No one was scared of anyone else. They all just co-existed.
I learned a lot in there. The most important, that even if you don't get caught it's still illegal. Everything counts. Everything adds up. Crime is not something to be messed with because you're bored. I learned that. I was thankful for that. They freed me. I went back to the apartment. My mother was waiting for me. It surprised me. But that was just her. Sometimes she did something and it made me forget who she truly was. It gave me hope. False hope.