First Line

January 11, 2011
By steamboatdavey BRONZE, Manalapan, New Jersey
steamboatdavey BRONZE, Manalapan, New Jersey
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Nothing evil is simple. That’s all that I could think about as I stood there, in the kitchen, with my bare feet touching the cold bare tiles. Do I do it? Should I make the wrong decision and take the money or ignore my moms purse. Those were the choices and for me, it wasn’t very simple. I knew the right thing to do was to ignore it and go on with my day, but that’s not the point of this story. The point is whether something is right or wrong, it boils down to what we want regardless of the consequences, depending on how badly we want it of course.
I was never pegged as a bad kid, never thought to do wrong, never had to have an eye kept on me. I just did my own thing and played by the rules most of the time. I really had no reason to go against authority because im not one to want to cause trouble. Im not trying to cause a commotion or stir the pot, I just do what I know I can do to the best of my ability and that exact moment, I knew I could take the money and nothing would be different.
I come from a wealthy family with a father who was at work most of the time, and mom who spends my fathers hard earned money but hey, that’s how it went and I really didn’t think much of it. My mom was about to go out shopping and was getting ready upstairs and here I was in the kitchen, about to make a move right out of left field. I was positive she wouldn’t notice. There were enough bills in her purse where she wouldn’t notice one or two missing from the bunch. She wouldn’t notice the thickness of the bills before she’d realize the numbers on them just didn’t add up.
I wasn’t even going to take much, twenty bucks at most. To be completely honest with you, I wasn’t taking the money for any specific reason other than to take it for the sake of taking it. Because I could, because I knew I could get away with it and the world would keep on spinning. How I spent it didn’t really matter, I had a wide variety of options. Going to the movies, the mall, buying a video game, the list went on. I just knew in that moment, from the voice coming from my gut, to go for it. To take the money was the goal and I had the window of opportunity to do it.
I heard my mothers door open and I quickly tensed up. My window was slowly closing and I still hadn’t made up my decision. The sweat on my brow intensified and my fingers sporadically jumped around out of anxiousness. Step after step I heard, my heart beat began sync up going up through my stomach and out my mouth. It was do or die. I didn’t go with my gut, or my heart, or even my brains. I went with my legs and ran on out of there and into the dining room.
I sank down to the floor leaning against the wall catching my breath. I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t do it. My hands were still shaking for some reason, and the sweat was still there. I couldn’t belief all that just happened, in a matter of minutes. I could have changed the person who I was with in a matter of minutes, for what? For twenty dollars that I would probably spend on something meaningless just to get rid of it. My hands would have been stained green and whatever that money went to would be a constant reminder to me of my devilish deed.

My mom got her coat and shoes on and started heading out. I heard the garage door open and the car start up. She had left the house and went on to go buy whatever her heart desired. I made sure the coast was clear before I went back into the kitchen. I looked at the table and there was a note. The note said: “If you happen to go out here’s a little something. Enjoy yourself!” and underneath lay a twenty dollar bill. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Had karma cut me some slack, after all I’ve been through? I guess it is true what they say about nothing evil is simple. I may have not gotten the money in the way I had originally planned, but my the though remained stain in the back of my head. A constant reminder of who I could have been.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book