Sitting in your cell, deep into the night, you sob. In prison, it isn’t safe to cry. You don’t know what the other inmates could do to you. They could spread rumors. Get a gang to start a riot. Everything in jail is unexpected, well, not counting the daily routine the prisoners must follow. The food was terrible, too. Much worse than what you were used to. But you got used to it. The terrible food. Ungrateful.
The money you had allowed you to buy almost whatever luxuries you wanted. Everything was running smoothly. Then you did it. You wanted more. It didn’t work.
What were you thinking?
You lie down in bed, tears flowing from your eyes and onto the almost rock-hard pillow under your head. You get to sleep. Light, deep. You switch to REM sleep. Memories of it flood back…
You checked the time. Perfect. As intended, you've arrived fashionably late. You knew that arriving at a party early is suspicious. After you arrived, you knew exactly what to do.
Then, you had about ten million dollars. But you felt it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Greed took over you, growing vines around you, trapping you for eternity. You had multiple offenses. The police tried to track and pin you down, but you always managed to slip out of their grasp. Except for this one time. Gone.
To your left and right, there were people in the hallway. Your mind wandered, blocking off the human noises. They might have been talking about the weather. Laughing about a joke someone told. Or maybe they could have been planning on pulling off a future massacre. You don’t know.
In front of you, a DJ was doing some weird shit and pressing, what looked like, random buttons on the 3 turntables in front of him.
“Are you ready to get hype?” he screamed to the crowd in a high-pitched voice, bobbing his head up and down vigorously, throwing up the peace sign.
The crowd went nuts, jumping around and doing weird twirls. The DJ dropped the beat and everyone was cheering.
You held down a button on the radio in your hand, and your knuckles turned white. Motorola MH230R Long Range Walkie Talkie. Powerful, though yours was difficult to operate. Mainly because it required immense strength to hold down even one button. Your cronies’ walkie talkies were not at all that hard to use. You didn’t mind. You got used to yours.
“You there? Over,” your companion’s voice crackled through the speaker. You hoped that no one could hear your conversation over the loud music and people screaming their lungs out.
“Yes I am. Now, we have to wait until the party's over. There are teenagers being weird here. Over,” you declared, eyeing a couple of teenagers osculating violently.
Her laugh almost burst your eardrums as you winced, held the device far from your ear, and lowered the volume.
“Sara, quiet down,” you hissed, “Do you understand how much we have at stake here? We need that money. Over.”
You saw Sara at the airport, just when you were coming back from your trip to Malibu to steal gold from an old lady living there. You knew her from school. She was a smart lady, but you never thought anything else of her. Turns out she also became a thief, and she somehow knew you were one too.
You could sense her rolling her eyes through the receiver.
“Fine. Make sure to do it. I’ll be watching. Over.”
“Why won’t I do it? You think I would just sit here? Over.”
“No,” she clicked her tongue, “Hurry up, though. Over.”
It was your turn to roll your eyes.
“I’m not the Flash. Goddamn. Over and out.”
You put the HT back in your pocket. You stalked around for a little, like a casual person, having fun at a boring party. There were teenagers and college students everywhere, grabbing anyone that passed by and dancing with them. You started to notice the mansion that you walked into. Thousands of fairy lights of different colors were propped up around the mansion, but it was still dim.
What type of person would even want to do this for just one night?
Even though you were rich, you knew that you would never throw this type of party. You would just go to the club instead.
Wandering the long hallways, you finally spot what looked like the master bedroom. Most of the rooms were locked, so this was the largest one you could find.
Before, you found out that the teenager whose mother lives here had a very expensive diamond ring hidden in her jewelry collection.
Immediately, you pulled your walkie talkie out.
“Sara, I got it. Over.”
“You found the room?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “Where is it? I’ll be there in a matter of minutes. Remember the dresser is on the left and there is a small maroon box. Over.”
“I don’t know. I was wandering around. Over.”
You heard Sara slap her palm to her forehead.
“You dumb shit!” she sighed, “Fine. I’ll just look for you myself. Over and out.”
You waited for Sara. After what seemed like a few seconds, she appeared panting, at the door to the room. She beckoned for you to go in.
You stepped into the room, looked to the left, and immediately spotted the maroon box. It was made of velvet. It was a pint-sized box, and it seemed as if it would break at your touch. Handling it carefully, you slowly opened it. It revealed a small, expensive ring. You could tell that this ring would have cost a fortune.
Smiling like an idiot, you let the ring into the palm of your right hand and clutched it. When you turned, you found Sara standing there with her mother by her side.
“My house, bitch,” Sara declared, smiling viciously at the look on your face, "and you're trespassing. Get the hell out. Drop the diamond. Unless you want to light the flame for my fury."
She pointed her gun up at you, finger on the trigger.