1 001

GEORGINA

Did everyone have a purpose for coming into someone's life?

Did it mean anything when they do come at some point?

~~

In a dingy apartment where papers, clothes, and objects were scattered about, an unkempt person roamed their quarters, the television in the living room blaring and showing the evening news.

There was a smartly-dressed woman in a black blazer, her expression serious and her tone grave.

"This just in: another store has been raided by an unknown person. The town is in high alert of this mysterious thief, and everyone is advised to be on their guard. It is believed that the stealer lurks around—"

There was a derisive laugh as the person snatched the remote, shutting off the television and plopping onto the couch. The grip on the soda can she was holding slackened, the object hitting the floor with a metallic sound.

She sighed and shook her head, grunting as she stood.

It was tiring to always have to live like this.

But hey, it was the path she chose.

And she's forever chained to it since she couldn't get rid of her kleptomaniac tendencies and didn't know how to start anew.

A phone ring blasted through the four walls of the room, her seemingly not affected by the startling sound.

Instead, she wetted her lips as she crossed the room to find the source, rummaging through her blankets and looking under her bed, opening cabinets and even leaning out her window.

Finally, she found it wedged between the bedside table and the floor, making a grab for it and struggling to stand upright as she tripped on a wire and cursed underneath her breath.

She put the device close to her ear and waited for the other person to speak. She wasn't one to greet first and she knew the other person knew that.

"It was you, wasn't it?" asked the person on the other line with no qualms to any greeting.

Another deep sigh tumbled out the woman's chapped lips, a hand coming up to rub at her aching temples.

"Who else?" she asked sardonically, leaning on the wall with the phone still close to her ear. "Nothing new pops up in the news. They have nothing to show except my steals, and for what?"

She sighed again to try and dispel the heaviness in her being to no avail.

"It's either people don't care or they're not trying hard enough to capture me."

"But do you want to be captured?"

"I—" she stopped, thinking about it.

Her mind flashed back to a few hours prior, where she was dressed all in black, crowbar and duffel bag in hand as she did one of her nightly steals.

She remembered the first time she committed that same crime, the exhilarating and liberating feeling that ran through her, chaining her to this fate.

Did she want to be captured? Did she want to stop?

"I don't," she finally answered, conviction in her voice that surprised her. Yet another sigh escaped her lips, the sound hollow and empty. "But if these people continue with this crappy attitude, I might just surrender myself willingly."

She snorted, almost unable to imagine the time she'd willingly surrender and just give up this life she had going on.

Granted, it wasn't ideal but she didn't know how to start again. What did it mean to 'start again' anyway? Her mind had never been able to grasp that concept.

There was a moment of silence before the other person spoke again, gentler this time.

"Do something else, Gina," her best friend pleaded. "Your life is headed in a bad direction, and you know it. It's not too late to change your lifestyle, you know. You've got lots more to live for."

Here they go again with this same conversation. They've been through this, talked about this, gone round and round. Her best friend Veronica Wilson was an optimist at heart, always finding the silver lining to every bad situation. But that's not how Georgina Wells is. She was the polar opposite: pessimist and narcissist, living but not quite, thief and no one left in this world to care for her, except maybe herself and her best friend.

She shook her head, momentarily forgetting the other couldn't see the movement.

"I have nothing else to live for, Nica," she said for the umpteenth time, weariness seeping into her tone.

Dark and sunken brown eyes behind spectacles scanned the surroundings, landing on the upturned table, her unmade bed, papers littering her desk and floor, and the countless empty bottles of beverages yet to be cleaned up.

Her mind made an impulsive decision and before she knew it she was saying it on the phone before she could stop to process just what she's doing.

"Listen, Nica, I appreciate the help and concern, but if you're found and they realize we talk, it might be bad for you too."

"What are you saying?" A hint of panic shone through the otherwise cool question, and even that doesn't escape Georgina's trained ears.

"I'm saying we have to cut ties here and now. Stay safe."

Not waiting for another word, she hung up and promptly blocked the number.

She tapped mindlessly on her phone for a few minutes, leaning on the wall with mind a jumbled mess when something wet landed on her phone screen.

She didn't take a moment to pause and went on to wipe her thumb across the spot to rid of the moisture, wondering where it came from.

Another drop of the same substance hit her screen. Again, she wiped it away, bringing a hand up to her eyes.

She's surprised to find her eyes were leaking tears, something that never happened after that horrible accident.

She was quick to drop her phone with a clatter and continuously wipe at her eyes despite the stubborn tears that pour out of her sockets. Her throat was constricted and her chest was heavy with an undecipherable tightness.

What the hell did she just do?

Yet, she willed down the urge to sob pathetically, biting at her arms and biceps even as the tears continued to spill.

Maybe this one time, she'll allow.

Maybe for now, she'll give herself leeway.

The waterworks start then, leaving the young woman to cry until dawn.