Disclaimer: I do not copyright the main character, seeing as he's virtually uncharacterized in the first place. However, his girlfriend a.k.a. The Nyx is copyrighted to my friend G.

Contemplations of a Thief

Regret. There's always a sort of regret itching at the back of my mind. A sort of out of place odium mixed with confusion and... Nostalgia. Why did I ever get into this business? Why did I find such a satisfaction in this greedy pilfering? Why? Why? Why?
It's always been one big question since they threw me in here. I know it's not their fault; I don't blame them at all. They're just doing their jobs; simple subservients of the law. But it's always been a question against myself. As I sit I have plenty of time to impugn my poor choice of work. Plenty of time without windows or any contact to the outside world. Well, until we head off to lunch, that is.
It's only been a few months, but I'm sure if I stay here I'll go insane. Yeah, I hit that house, that house, and that house, but don't try and find motive in my actions. It was the mere thought of a gauntlet of a job I was looking for. I certainly found it. Ah, the love of crime... It's like an addiction; once you're use to the adrenaline rush of doing something you're not supposed to, you quickly climb the ladder from small to big. Soon you're robbing banks and ripping off airlines.
Let's say, hypothetically, that someone does not like the government and other people agree with this person. These people plan to overthrow the government. But in doing so, they're thrown into prison for conspiring. Isn't it protected in the constitution that people are allowed to overthrow a government they dislike? Instead, their reputations as good people are relegated to rebels, and all outside ties to others who supported this idea one-hundred percent suddenly dissipates. What perfidy. I attribute my situation to this idea
Okay, so, maybe it's not really like that exactly, but I think it's close enough. My tale isn't as squeamish or corpulent as legends like The Nyx, or some high profile thieves on the FBI's most wanted list. I mean, I'm just a common house thief. I'm one of the ones brinks home security systems are built to keep out. However, brinks is easy to overthrow. Anyway, it was just a simple job, nothing more. I had done two of them earlier in the week without any problems. I performed such ignoble deeds alone, with a good pay off. This time it was a little different. My girlfriend is a thief as well, but for her own safety, I'm expurgating her name. Anyway, she's a better thief than I am, and sometimes we both go on the same job (particularly more tough ones) together and get things done quickly. Usually I do the easy house jobs alone, but this time I felt myself susceptible to changes. Fatal error number one, I let her come.
Fast forward. We get there, no problems. She's bringing a gun with her. I'm not. We break in, still no problems. I start in on the silverware and collectibles while she heads to find any kind of really valuable materials. I'm walking around the dining room, collecting crystal candle holders, considering if I could probably get something for them, putting them into my bag to move to the next keenly placed valuable item. Ah, China... It looks fine, and as soon as my hand briskly touches the sleek surface of one of the saucers, I hear a crash, my eyes darting to the side and head jerking to find the source of the noise. A figure approaches the door frame quickly, and I find my body bovine, unable to move much until this person enters the room - my girlfriend - and she's got her gun out.
"What are you doing?" I hiss acrimoniously. My eyes gazed over her head to the door frame.
"The man is awake. He's got a shot gun," She replies, and to my amazement, how dispassionate her words were. How was she not feeling as violated and stupid as myself?
"So you're going to shoot him?" It was always a sharp dissension between us over killing people or not. She liked to kill people while I couldn't handle something like that. "Put that away. You won't connect my name to murder."
Then, she turned the gun on me, my eyes meeting with the barrel of the gun... All the time she would do bizarre things like this to scare me to death. I don't even want to think about dying here and now.
"How are we supposed to fight back, then? You want me to just shoot you and you won't see me kill him? Is that better? It's not like they won't blame it on me either way."
As if to dot the end of her sentence, a shot ripped through the cabinet next to my head, making me jump ten feet in the air. It was not from her, however, but from the third looming figure behind her, presumably the home owner, shotgun in hand, all intentions to kill. My girlfriend... She loves fire fights, so she swung around to return fire at the man.
During the consternation, I ran straight into the kitchen. After all, I'm not armed.
"Come on, let's go!" I called back through the harsh calls of shattering glass and bullet holes. I heard no call back, but within a few moments, her body swung about the corner, and I started off towards the exit. Fatal error number two; I had no idea where the exit was, and, thinking the door in the kitchen lead outside, I yanked it open only to be met to my chest with a shot gun barrel. Game over.
Although he didn't shoot me, he obviously turned me in to the cops, and they were able to attribute me to many other crimes, some not even mine. Luckily, my girlfriend was able to get away, quickly disavowing all knowledge of even knowing me. They would have come down harder on her for armed robbery, and the excessive amount of crimes she's committed.
I guess these are all the thoughts I can really think about while I'm here. I suppose it really is as they say... Don't do the crime if you can't do the time. Lucky for me, I have all the time in the world.