Authors Note: This was written for school...but I thought it came out okay. What do you think?

The Price of a Consequence

A few steps more. The door in sight. He was in the back; he wouldn’t know. They hadn’t been priced or put out. He would assume someone miscounted. Even if he didn’t, it wasn’t worth much. Hurry. Through the door, down the street.

Safe.

I could still taste the sweet victory of my first shop lifting; attaining my mother’s bracelet. I hadn’t known what I was doing; it was an induction of sorts to the gang. In Will’s words:

“To show you’re really one of us.”

Will was, in some words, a leader. I was his second hand, he gave me the orders, and I helped carry them out. But he was serious, and he liked to laugh as well. The truth though, is that he was as haunted as I was. Over the course of two years, we had set up limits and boundaries and knew well enough not to touch them. A gentle hand touch conveyed our feelings…and he sold me lies.

I had believed him at the time. That it would replace the pain. The adrenaline rush. My hand briefly touched the silver bracelet encircling my wrist.

My legs were cramped from sitting for so long…but I needed to think it out. Was it right of me to steal what was once my mother’s? I didn’t know but I would like to someday. I barely noticed the wet grass, but I did notice the murky sky, hiding sunrise from view. My eyes closed as I imagined my mother’s voice telling me about our history, and about life.

“Darling, someday, we’ll both be buried out there in the plot as well. Someday, maybe not soon, but we WILL be there. Our ancestors died there, and they were all important people. To families and to other’s.”

She placed her hand on my head and smiled down at me.

“Really?” I asked.

“Really, later in life, you may learn about your past.”

I placed my hand gently against her headstone, feeling the groves and indentations in it. My breath came out in a small sigh. How would I have turned out if my mother had lived? The question haunted me.

My father would still have been who he had been; spoiling his little princess. Me. But now he sat in the house watching television and drinking beer in a depressed state. Where was the man that pushed the little girl on the swing?

People believe I’m spoiled because I live in a large white manor house. But I’m not. I may have been born into money, but money won’t buy me a cure. The only thing that could cure me was my mother, but she’s dead and in our family plot where all my ancestors before me are buried.

A rumbling up my driveway surprises me before I realize it’s just the delivery man. Large oaks frame the driveway that winds upward; always cast in shadow by the large limbs and spread leaves of the trees. It lends my home a haunted feeling and a stark silence, and soon he’s gone, rumbling down the ancient drive.

A cursed place; one with a terrible history. So many lives had gone here in the past. Hundreds of years, from the time my family first came here. And my mother was the latest. My throat closed up. My mother had died here, so had my sister when she was born. Both died the same day. And it was just last year. It seemed so long ago.

What would my sister have been like? Would she have had brown or hazel eyes, short or tall, blond or brown hair? But she’s dead. If my mother hadn’t died, would she still have been a catalyst for what happened? Would I still pay the consequences? Because there’s always a price to pay, and you have to pay it. But how much was I willing to give up? As if my thoughts were known, it began to rain. I could taste the salt of my tears on my lips. It was a bitter taste. Like tasting something you didn’t like. My hand clenched in the grass as sobs wracked my body, making me shudder. It was as if all the grief inside of me had welled up and spilled over, much like a cloud. But soon I quieted.

How long had I been sitting out here? Far longer than an hour, more like a day. It had to be twilight, now. And then night to mask my pain. My thoughts went to my mistakes. I had made a lot of mistakes over the past year, and I had done things I wasn’t proud of.

I had stolen, lied and been cruel. I had been destructive…

The night was dark, but the moon shone down on the figures weaving through the gravestones. They stopped in the middle where a grave was new. It was there they destroyed the stone and dug up the ground. The destroyed a sacred place.

I confessed this month and had had to do community service. But didn’t have anyone to hang out with because I had been cruel and pushed away my best friend. I had abandoned her, left her to fend for herself.

We stood in the shade of a tree. Lilli and I, she was my best friend. She sat on the ground doing homework; but I leaned against the tree. I told her that I wasn’t going to school anymore and to avoid me. We were different and I needed space. I told her I didn’t even like her. She tried to talk to me. I ignored her; for her own good I reasoned.

A rustling the bushes disrupted my thought process and alerted me to another’s presence. Will stepped from behind the bushes. The only other one to confess. Because he said “I truly like you…you’re a great girl and a good friend.”

“Hey,” he called to me.

“Hi,” I replied softly, and plucked at the grass as it continued to rain, drenching me with water; and it cascaded down Will’s body, matting his hair to his head. He shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry. I told them my side.”

“Thanks.”

“I also talked to Lilli…maybe we’ll hang sometime.”

“Will…thanks. Really. It gives me a closure of sorts.”

Will shrugged and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We can start our own group, it’ll be great – the two of us, and Lilli.”

I smiled and began walking back to my home with him.

“Sure.”