They said stealing is bad. If you stole something, you should be punished, burned at a stake, with your hands cut off and fed to the dogs. At least that was how it was in primitive times. These days, people have to face a judge, and they're innocent until proven otherwise.
I never thought of it that way back then. I could have insisted on my innocence and walked away scott free, after all, there was no evidence against me, or I could have screamed rape and people would be up in arms to defend me. But it's too late, he knew I stole it, that was why he dragged me into a dark seedy alley outside the station and pinned me against the wall.
I couldn't scream, I wanted to, but I was too shocked. I was overwhelmed with panic, what if he turns me in to the police? They will publish my mugshot in newspapers and websites and my coworkers and people who hate me or secretly hate me are going to have a feast!
"Where is it?" He snarled. His cold grey eyes pierced through mine like a spear. He looked very pissed.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I replied in a shaky not so believable voice.
"Don't lie, I felt your hand in my pocket." He said, without averting his glare.
"I swear I don't know what you're talking about." I insisted as I tried to look him in the eye even though I was still shaking.
In just a few moves he pulled out a gun from his bag and held it straight to my forehead. Shit! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?
"Al- alright, I'll give it back. Just please don't hurt me." I stammered, as I reached for my pocket, fidgeting around as I looked for the item I have stolen.
It wasn't there.
My heart raced very fast, my hands began sweating and I was in deep panic. I checked my other pocket, but it wasn't there either.
"I - I lost it." I stammered.
He snapped, I saw his eyes burn with rage. The tip of his gun touched my forehead and he buried it deeper into my skull as he screamed at me. I couldn't hear him, not a single word.
The train! Perhaps it's still in the train! I thought. I could just go back, retrieve the item, give it back and we'd go on separate ways. That's it! Easy peasy. NOT.
As I looked back at the train, I realized it was no longer there. It already left, leaving me no chance to mend what I have started. I felt like my heart just sank, it's that awful feeling of dread you feel when you know you know you've done the irreversible.
The guy glanced at the train as well and realized what had happened. His eyes turned back at me, he was mad, really really mad!
He pointed his gun at my head, giving himself a much steadier aim. I could almost hear it. The sound of a gun blasting through my skull. He was going to pull the trigger, I will be dead, thrown in a ditch and forgotten.
The world became dimmer, it was getting harder to breathe, my legs buckled under my own weight. I could hear him, but his words were angry and muffled. His face became a blur.
Am I dying? Is this what death feels like?
...