…I grabbed it. I couldn’t help myself. Just sitting there, no one was even watching, and it was just an inadequate pen. No harm was done, and I would never do it again.
I walked into the next boutique. God, that shirt was beautiful. What! 80$! I only had 30$ at the time. I reached over caressing the silky fabric; it was only one shirt and I’m the only one in the shop. I looked around, took the shirt off the rack and stuffed it into my BOHO™ bag; I then casually glided toward the exit. How could I be taking so many five-finger discounts? Kleptomania had just taken another victim.
There was no halting it once it began. I would walk into school sporting the latest Prada bag or Chanel boots. It was no longer just a compulsive act it was an art, my art. I could take anything without a problem, without hesitation.
As my acts prospered my parents grew suspicious. I told them I was just splurging a little, in honor of my new ‘promotion’ at my old job. They asked no more questions.
Popularity came quickly with all these new clothes. Girls were jealous but followed me. Guys never stopped staring. “See?” I explained to myself, there is nothing wrong, everyone is happier, including me.
To keep from being caught, I only went to a store or little boutique once. At home my new clothes were hidden. If a store-manager, parents, or even my best friend discovered what I had been up to I knew that would be the absolute end of my life.
But, not telling anyone took an emotional toll. I began feeling lonely and shut-off from the rest of the world. The shoplifting gave me a thrill, but it no longer lasted. My parents noticed a change and thought it time for a family intervention. They were going to work a confession out of me and I knew it.
Sitting there was so intense, I couldn’t bare it. They said I wasn’t being myself that I always used to be so happy. They wanted to know why such a dramatic change had occurred. I couldn’t take it, I spilled. Everything came out so rapidly that I couldn’t censor things out I didn’t want them to know: like I’d stolen over 500$ worth of clothing and a pen without getting caught. I glanced from my ramble to see me mom crying. At that exact moment I knew it need to stop. Kleptomania had taken over my entire life.
Three days later I was sitting in Dr. Remond’s office, my new psychiatrist. I didn’t want to talk to her, I wanted to talk to someone I knew. She’d been probing me for what seemed like hours. She asked me when it all started; I gave in and began to explain my first theft. When I first saw that pretty pen…