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Her Ruthless Owner

By Marian Tee

Penelope

IT'S A MISERABLY PERFECTday to commit my first act of crime.

The skies are a dull shade of gray, and it's been drizzling all day. People are running to and fro with either their hands over their heads or their faces peeking out from hoodies and jackets.

Everyone's mood is downcast, and the direction of their gazes also mirrors this. No one wants to look at anyone else; no one wants to be bothered, no one wants to risk seeing anything that's only going to add trouble to their already troubled lives.

You can't get weather more criminally perfect than this, really, so...

Now or never, dude.

My hands start to perspire, and fear curdles in the pit of my stomach. My conscience is already warning me of the fires of Hell, but I tell it to go take a hike for now.

It's not like I mean to make a habit out of mugging rich, old ladies. I've been planning this for a week, and I really think if I play it smart andnotdo anything rash...I really believe this is all I need to turn my life around.

I've seen the other kids do it, and since I also know for a fact I'm a lot quicker and more flexible than most of them are—-

Show time, dude!

My target walks out of the bank at exactly three-fifteen, like clockwork. Coiffed silver hair, shoulders slightly hunched, and petite and thin enough for a strong gust of wind to easily blow her over. It honestly feels like she's asking for trouble, with that string of pearls she's wearing around her neck and the Louis Vuitton purse she's always holding so, solooselyin her left hand.

She's going to get mugged sooner or later, really...

So why not me?

At least I know for sure I have no plans of hurting her in any way. I just need a bit of her money to start a new life, but I swear I'll find a way to pay her back.

So please, lady, don't make this harder than it should be!

My target is about to cross the street, and I know I need to make my move before she...shits.

I mean,shit!

There's a familiar-looking boy crouched in hiding behind a couple of unevenly stacked boxes.

Shit, shit, shit!

Marko's about my age, and he's lived in the streets far longer than I have. It was about a month ago when he joined the local Russian gang that's recently been busy making its name in Queens. Since then, he's gone from being okay to outright sadistic, and I know for a fact Marko won't be satisfied with just mugging my feeble-looking target. He'll also take pleasure in killing her to prove to his new "family" he's as tough as they come...and I can't do a thing about it.

Or rather...Imustn't.

Because the smartest thing to do now is to walk away.

Just walk away, forget what I've seen, and pretend I have no idea of what's to come.

So get moving, you idiot!

But instead I find myself desperately jumping up and down and yelling at the old woman when I see her heading Marko's way like an elderly ostrich with her head happily buried in the sand.

"Yo, old lady, over here!"

She halts and looks at me in confusion, and please, please,pleasedon't tell me she's hard of hearing, too?

My antics already have Marko on his feet and glaring at me like I'm next on his murder list. I know I still have one last chance to walk away...alive. But when I see the old lady resume walking towards Marko—-