A Beginning To Her Ending

The biting night air of the city's dangerous sector offered little comfort, but I pulled my oversized black hood tighter, the fabric a familiar shield against the world. My worn jeans and beanie completed the illusion, turning 'Vienna' into 'Vincent'—just another teenage boy navigating these perilous streets.

My skimpy house, a mere room and a living area with a small kitchen, was a temporary sanctuary. But survival demanded I venture out, even into this hub of crime where every shadow seemed to hold a threat.

Drunk men stumbled, drug sellers lurked, and I, a pickpocket by necessity, walked with a practiced confidence. My disguise was my only real protection in a place that swallowed up girls like me. It wasn't a good life, just a barely living one, funded by the quick snatch of a wallet.

Tonight, my target was a man in his late 40s, clearly rich and clearly drunk. He was retching on the sidewalk, an easy mark. Feigning concern, I thumped his back while my other hand deftly relieved him of his wallet. Crispy dollar bills—enough to last for days.

With a hundred left for him, a token of my warped conscience, I slipped away, a wide grin spreading across my face. No stealing for a whole week. The thought was a rare luxury. Chips, soft drinks, instant ramen—my usual haul from the convenience store. Cooking was a disaster waiting to happen, so takeout was my only friend.

The quiet streets on my return felt both safe and menacing. My hidden identity was a fragile power, one I clung to. Inside, Roxy, my stray cat and only confidante, meowed a welcome. We ate, watched a flickering TV, and then, under the worn blanket, succumbed to the deep, peaceful sleep of those who live day to day, worrying only for the next few.