Kiera
"Beautiful," the blonde haired boy said as he stared at me.
I shook his hand off my shoulder and gave him back his wallet. I was caught, there was no point in taking it anymore. Shit, it would have cost a fortune too.
Just as I turned to walk away, the prick grabbed my arm. "Name… what's your name?"
His cheeks were bright pink and he had this look in his eyes that just pissed me off for some reason.
"It's none of your business. Screw off."
As I walked away, the kid followed me, very closely. I turned to look him dead in the eyes. I was clearly pissed but he didn't care. He still had that look in his eyes. It was fucking annoying.
I sigh heavily and cross my arm. "Kiera."
He stands straight and clears his throat. He clearly didn't hear me, but I wasn't willing to repeat myself. I turn again and walk away. I was always known for having very little patience, and this boy was testing it.
He chased after me and stopped me in my tracks.
"I… uhh… I didn't quite get your name—," he said, barely able to open his mouth.
"Kiera," I snapped. "Or is that name too low class for your rich ass mouth? Do me a favour and crawl back to your castle, will you?" I continued to walk away.
"Kiera…," he kept saying, trying the name on his tongue like it was some fancy ass cuisine. I turned to look at him and he had the most infatuated look on his face, his cheeks bright red as he looked up to me. "That's… that's a beautiful name."
I was confused. I had only met the guy a few minutes ago and… I recognised the look in his eyes. The way he looked at me—wide eyed and flushed. He liked me—a lot. I had met guys like him before, thinking they can win me over with good looks and awkward smiles. Yeah right. The mere fact that he was probably some big shot's bastard kid pissed me off even more.
I proceeded to walk away, but the brat was on my tail. He wouldn't stop following me and it pissed me off. His stupid footsteps echoed in my ears, every fucking step grating on my nerves. I spun on my heels and crossed my arm, giving him a glare that screamed 'Get Lost.'
Instead of leaving, he took my hand and held it tight. "Kiera… you're gorgeous," he said, beaming.
I pulled my hand away, wiping it on my shorts like he had some infectious disease. "Not interested, kid. Get lost. Your butler's probably waiting for you."
"But I…" he was still following me. Then, vexed, I spun around and yelled, "Do me a favour and fuck off, dipshit!"
I stormed off, still pissed. Rich kids like him don't know what it's like to have to steal to survive. They just sit in their big ass mansions and live their happy lives, getting whatever the hell they want. Tsk. Spoilt brat.
I dragged my sorry ass to one of the ghettos in Marstinson. There's a tall building there, some people came out just as I got to the door.
"Kiera, hey," the younger of the pair greeted. "What's up? You look pretty down. Is it back?"
I chuckle. "Not yet. I got caught by the guy I was trying to rob."
"Oh shit," the older one said, running his fingers through his hair. "You sure it wasn't one of those hallucinations again?"
I glared at him, holding back the urge to cuss at him. "No…," I say calmly. "It wasn't."
"Oh," he shrugs teasingly. "Sure it wasn't." He rolls his eyes and chuckle.
Pissed, I shove him aside and storm into the building.
'Just beat him up," a voice said. It sounded like it was right next to me.
"I don't want to," I harshly respond out loud. "Shut the hell up."
'You know you want to," a pitch black figure moves up in front of me, flashing a bright white smile. It's blinding. I shout and stumble backwards, falling down the stairs.
"Not again," I say to myself as I grab my head in pain.
Justin, my caretaker, walks in. "Hallucinations?"
"Just go grab the fucking bandages," I say through gritted teeth.
He comes back with my meds and bandages.
"You're not bleeding as much as I expected so I guess that's good," he said, gently lifting my head and putting it on his lap. "Still hearing the voices?"
"Justin, tell them to shut up! They're so fucking loud right now!" I scream as I toss and turn.
My vision was perfectly fine, but the dark figures were more than before and they were screaming into my ears. It was fucking annoying and they didn't want to get away from me. This fucking disease…it's suffocating.
In a moment, my head got really heavy, and I felt dizzy. Justin had injected my drug into me. It was working faster than usual… the faster, the better.
I woke up in my bedroom, my clothes loosened. Justin was sitting at the foot of my bed.
"Oh hey…" he said, sitting up, the worry on his face was ever so visible. "You better, kid?"
I nod. "Thanks…I don't know what I'd do without you, Justin."
He rubs my hair. "It's alright, kid. Just…take it easy. I don't…" he looks away.
I hug him—tight. Justin wasn't the kind of person who openly talked about how he felt about others, even if he cared for them so much.
"I get you," I say to him. "I'll survive, I promise."
Living with my condition was getting more and more difficult as I got older. The doctor said by the time I'd be twenty, I'd have adapted—I'm twenty-fucking-four, and the voices are pissing me off even more than when I was a kid.
It's not like they're always there—but it feels like they wake up when I need them to shut up the most. I'm a thief, for fuck's sake. My body is growing immune to the drugs…they aren't as effective anymore.
Fuck.
I wake up, for the millionth time as I try to sleep. It's always like this. I sit up, the strap of my tank top sliding off my shoulder. I look at the nightstand: my drugs. I look at the floor: empty cans of beer. Getting drunk mutes the voices for a bit, so anything dumb I do is all on me.
I feel so pathetic and vulnerable. Every time I head out to steal, they keep telling to stab someone—they want me to create a scene.
"Just do it!" "You know you want to!" "What's wrong with killing just one person?" "Killing a few more would make you happier."
Me? A reject? They'd throw me in a psyche ward before they'd even think of throwing me into prison.
Sometimes, the voices are so loud, I throw fits—hitting my head on anything I can find, trying to shut them up. They're layered. It's like kids talking in a kindergarten class—everyone wants to be heard. It drives me nuts. I can't stand it.
I sigh heavily as I get up. There's a light knock on my door right after—it's Justin. I didn't hear his footsteps as he walked in—as expected from a retired thief.
He comes inside, not caring whether or not I was in clothes. "I raised you," he'd say. "I've seen everything I have to see."
"Good morning, K," he lovingly called me as he hugged me and kissed the top of my head. "Any sleep?"
"Barely," I groan into his chest as I hug him back.