I am not a good person, I’ll admit it. Honestly, even posting this seems kind of hypocritical, considering that I’ve probably been the cause of some people’s scariest moments. In a way, you could say this is just me getting what I deserved.
I grew up, and still live in, a relatively poor downtown area, and have been committing various petty crimes since I was a kid. More recently, I started harassing people at night, in dark, empty places, demanding cash. If needed, I would put them at knifepoint, and every time, they would hand out what money they had. Well, until last weekend, anyway.
It was quite late, maybe 2:00 in the morning, and I was wandering alongside a parking lot adjacent to a derelict building. I was looking for a victim, and I spotted someone coming my way. An older man, it would appear, with a slight hobble, completely alone in this empty area; a perfect target I thought. Fucked up, I know, but the weaker the better in this trade.
I walked over, and shouted “Hello!” at him. I usually attempted to disarm people with friendliness, before asking for what I really wanted. He stopped, looking up at me with a weathered scowl plastered across his face, and said nothing. I continued towards him, and asked him if he had any cash to spare me. When he didn’t move, I withdrew my knife from my pocket, holding the tip out towards his belly while motioning with my other hand. Without a word, he slowly, creakily, reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a small wallet, maybe more of a pouch. He then flipped it upside down, letting the contents fall into my hand.
Small, hard, pale objects dropped into my palm. Obviously not dollars or coins, I stared at my hand, attempting to discern what exactly he was giving me. “They look like teeth,” I thought to myself at first, before the realization dawned on me and a shot of adrenaline shot into my body. They were teeth. Completely caught off guard, I froze, my mind spinning its wheels as I studied the various molars and other teeth in my palm. In my shock, I didn’t even notice him suddenly reach out for my knife. I dropped the teeth to the ground and desperately tried to keep a grip on the handle, but he managed to wrench it from my hands with surprising strength. I slipped back into the wall, breathing rapidly with panic and holding my hands up in distress.
The blade was pointed at my chest, and now he was smiling. A sadistic grin, on the border between smug satisfaction and sheer giddiness. His gaze lowered towards my jaw, and he tipped the knife upwards, taking a step forward. I began to plead, apologizing for accosting him and begging to be let go. He stopped for a second, letting out a small chuckle at my efforts, before suddenly craning his head. The sound of voices and footsteps were approaching , and his smile melted away. He threw the knife at my feet, and quickly walked the opposite direction.
I grabbed the still clattering knife as he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Still terrified, I slid on the ground clutching my blade. A group of people, clearly drunk, walked across the parking lot, not even noticing my slumped body against the building. I shook myself free from my paralysis, and sprinted as fast as I could back home.
I barely slept that night, wondering who that man was, where all those teeth came from, and what he was going to do to me. Something told me my mouth was going to be adding to that collection had those people not walked that way. The thought filled me with horror, and I couldn’t get the image of his smirk outside of my head.
The next afternoon, despite my fear, I went back to that place. I had to see if those teeth were still there. I wasn’t going to bring them to the police or anything; I wanted no more to do with anything involving this guy. But there was this morbid curiosity, wondering if he had come back for them. Clutching my knife in my pocket, I scanned the area, now bright in the sun, and approached the wall of the building. However, there was no sign of them anywhere in the spot I had dropped them. He had come back for them. Sure, it was probably smart to recollect those so no authorities would find them, but I had a gut feeling that he came back for them the way you would for a lost prized possession. That made me shutter, and I was quick in getting back out of that place.
Despite all of that, I’m sure I won’t steer away from crime; being a criminal is just who I am. But, I will never mug anyone again, that is a guarantee.