The sun beat down particularly hard today. My fellow sophomores and I attempted to run our way around the football field, while Coach Lahill shouted at us to ‘suck it up and keep running.’ It was no problem for a soccer player like me to sprint around for fifteen minutes, I was used to it, but the others weren’t and a few looked like they were about to keel over. I was just about to finish my fifth lap, when our red faced gym teacher blew his whistle and called us over.

“Alright, guys, head on into the mat room,” he shouted hoarsely, the veins on his neck popping out from yelling.

“Finally!” my friend, Laura, groaned.

All of us, dripping with sweat and completely exhausted, dragged ourselves toward the school. I was just about to go inside, when Laura pointed out that Coach was calling me. I turned to go to him, but threw a longing glance back at the door and the welcoming and beautiful air conditioned building. Thinking maybe I should just go in anyway and play dumb later, when Coach Lahill chews me out for not listening, I started to go in but thought better of it. I don’t know why, but I’ve never been good at playing dumb. Everyone can always tell when I’m faking or when I really don’t know something. Sighing, I pulled myself away from the enticing coolness of the gym and went over to where Coach was putting away some equipment from this morning’s practice.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked, still out of breath from the running.

“Yeah, I need you to put all this equipment away and tuck it under the bleachers for this afternoon,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir,” I breathed, hating the fact that my soccer coach was also my PE teacher.

 

Almost done, I thought in relief. It had taken me ten grueling minutes to collect all of the stuff we used for practice: cones, balls, those stupid, coloured jersey things they make you wear to separate the teams, etc. etc. I was just glad that I was done. My uniform was drenched with sweat. And to think, I have to come back after school for another work-to-death. You see, we never have ‘workouts’ with Coach Lahill, only work-to-deaths because that’s exactly want he does to us, makes us work until the grim reaper comes for us.

I was lugging the yellow bin, filled with soccer junk, under the bleachers just as Coach had asked, when I felt an arm wrap across my chest and a hand clasp over my mouth. I screamed in astonished terror, kicking as my captor lifted me off the ground, but to avail. It had no effect except that I knocked the bin over. Not knowing what else to do, I panicked, digging my nails into the arm. The man cried out in pain and reacted by bashing me in the temple. I was out in an instant, shifting what little control I had completely over to him. Only God could help me now.

 

 

 

 

 

            The streets of downtown Virginia Beach were no stranger to me. And although they weren’t as bad as say New York, Las Vegas, or some of those other big cities, they were still pretty rough. Young children dressed in dirty clothes, ran around in their front yards, teenagers on bikes weaved between honking cars, and old folk sat on their porches, some smoking, while others just talked, always keeping an eye on the kids.

            I, myself, was watching my own two girls run around with some friends, while my wife, Marianna, sat beside me, with her head on my shoulder. Gloria and Lola tramped through the sprinklers, having a good ‘ol time. Their older brother, Marcos, was off with his buds and his sixteen-year-old twin, Gabi, was at the mall.

I wanted nothing more than to sit there forever, but the sun was going to set soon and then I’d have to go to work. It was a well paying job sometimes, when I got a good loot, but then there were the nights where I wouldn’t get paid at all. I hoped and prayed every day and night that I wouldn’t have to go out but God seemed to be against me these days because every sundown, I’d be breaking into someone else’s house, stealing their memories. I hated my job, but no one would hire me. I had no education and no talent. All I could do was be sneaky, but employers didn’t look for that quality in applicants. Mari liked to joke that one day I’d be a military spy, but come on, yeah right! Besides, with my record, the likelihood that I’m going to get a job is slim to none.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, my pregnant wife got up to herd the girls inside. Marcos and Gabi strode up the steps a few minutes later, pushing each other jokingly as the went through the door. I didn’t follow though, just pulled my hood over my head and left the house behind, heading to my first target for the night.