Becoming a Fugitive | Teen Ink

Becoming a Fugitive

January 10, 2015
By SCSKATE SILVER, Austin, Texas
9 articles 5 photos 23 comments

She opened the match box and removed a toothpick sized match. In one quick stroke, she scraped the match along the side of the box and lit it on fire igniting a hot flame. She was dressed in a sleek black leather jacket and tight black jeans. Her jet black hair was tied up and out of her face and she wore bright red lipstick. The only thing she believed in more than money, was looks and fashion.

For a moment, she stared at the fire,studying the way the flame flickered in the large living room she was in. Looking inside her backpack, she took out an old outdated newspaper with her other hand and crumpled it into a ball.

She looked around the large living room which consisted of two brown leather couches, a flat screen TV in the corner, and a vintage nightstand, looking for a prime spot to begin the fire. She walked towards the far side of the room and carefully placed the match on the newspaper before quickly exiting the room. Before long, she could see smoke filling the room and soon filling the hallways consuming the house. Right when she began fearing that she might not escape, she stepped out the front door and took a deep breath of fresh air filling her lungs with clean oxygen.

Looking around for her motorcycle, she quickly put on her helmet that had been sitting on the motorcycle seat and ditched the scene. She could hear fire trucks blaring their high pitched sirens in the distance. She looked back for a brief moment and saw clouds of smoke lifting from the house she had previously set on fire. She calmed her beating heart and continued driving down the crowded road. The car is front of her came to a stop. She looked out the window and saw a long line of cars also stopped. Uggh. Traffic. Why today out of all days she wondered. She checked the digital watch strapped to her left hand. She let out a sigh of relief. She could still her catch her flight. If she hurried. Thankfully, traffic sped up after that and she reached her destination on schedule.

She entered the United State flag colored post office (red,blue,white) becoming very aware of how many security cameras surrounded her in everyday life. She peered up at one of them trying to see the security guard looking at her. After walking to her locker, she lifted the small metal key that had been given to her through the mail from a warehouse in Texas just 2 days ago from her purse and slipped it into locker 124b. Inside held the 40 grand of that had been promised to her for burning the house. The money was all crisp and without a single crease and as she stashed the money, she could hear the crunch of the money as she threw handfuls into her purse and the rest was into a brown Target paper bag. She walked as casually as she could to the bank next door.

Before leaving to go to an all expense paid trip to Florida that was leaving in two hours where she would hide out for the next few weeks, she returned home to her apartment and took out her only suitcase and stuffed necessary items for a trip to Florida. Clothes, Hair brush, tooth brush, and of course a swimsuit. She took a last look at the place before leaving. She had a habit of looking back. Something she would have to stop doing.
The 30 minute drive was short though since her mind was so caught up in what she had just done. The trees and cars around her barely mattered anymore. This was only her second crime. The first one was her stealing a valuable diamond ring from a man named Hector Bonilla and she had been paid 200,000 for that job. As she entered the Los Angeles airport, which had large clear glass windows and clean marble floor that made a clicking sound every time her heels clicked it (made contact), every security guard seemed to make her worry, nervous. She hoped the nerves wouldn’t come back since she had committed a crime before but she was wrong.

First, she got her suitcase loaded onto the plane. Next she went by the security scanners. BEEP BEEP. Her heart quickened. She felt her pockets. Just a few pieces of loose change. She placed them on the conveyor belt and stepped through the scanner once more. Not a sound. Next, they gave her passport to a man who would check it then stamp it. He seemed to look down at her picture, then up to her face, then down at her picture, then up to her face WAY too many times. Once again her heart quickened. How could she live like this? This will all be over soon, she thought to herself. The man handed the passport back to her.

She sat down at the waiting area next to the gate for her flight and waited 5 minutes. She carefully scanned her perimeter, something she had gotten good at the past few hours. Finally it was time to board the plane for Florida. Before entering the plane, she looked back and smiled to herself. Her life as a fugitive had just started and it would start with her running away.

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on Jan. 17 2015 at 5:27 pm
9 articles 5 photos 23 comments
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