Stolen love, a short story by joshua10. Date added: 2011-05-14. Times viewed: 968.
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- Intro: My face reddened as the man in a grey suit,standing in front of me,uttered the words I'd been dreading.
My face reddened as the man in a grey suit,standing in front of me, uttered the words I’d been dreading. They brought tears to my eyes and a strong sense of Melancholy for my previous life,which was now entering into a new phase. I looked into the faces of my family and they were crying too. It was for the best because I needed to leave the past behind. I hoped somebody up there was looking down on me and was thinking, yes that Dawn Kershaw deserves all she’s getting , had it coming to her since the day she was born. I was now standing in front of everyone as the real me and had already vowed to leave the old one behind. It all began when my husband decided he’d had enough of the married life, the vows we made to each other and the three lovely children we had together apparently meant nothing to him. He wanted his old life back and nothing was going to stop him. Those qualities which I admired most in him were now the reason for our break up.He was a strong and independent man and liked doing his own thing. He’d gone and we were alone.The main breadwinner had left us,leaving me to queue up outside the social services with all the other mums just to put food onto the table. I started to think about getting a job but had left school with no qualifications.My time was spent just messing about getting suspended and acting like I knew it all; I bitterly regretted that now, but it was too late. Depression filled the gap where hope should have been. I should have seen it coming. Looking back it was easy to spot, what with all that had happened; but I was naïve and didn’t know what it was until I saw my GP, who gave the quickest diagnosis ever after breaking down in front of him. He prescribed Prozac, and I felt a bit better, but my self-esteem was still on the floor and it needed dragging up. Before, I hadn’t a clue about depression and how it can make you feel.It was a horrible word, one that sticks in the back of your throat. The kids bless them, now had a mother who was struggling with life and needed some space to think and time on her own. I asked my mum to look after them while I did some shopping just to get out and clear my head. It was probably the best decision of my life. One that would send me in a direction I never thought possible. Theft ,when I was a child was wrong, and still is, but when you have three children to feed and no money your husband has walked out on you and you are lower than a snakes belly, would you not steal just to make ends meet? I would say to my three young boys that you should never steal anything, and that it is wrong;but as needs must. It all began after witnessing a lovely looking lady in her dotage, who was shopping in my local supermarket put a small block of cheese into her pocket when she thought no-one was looking. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I walked passed her and she just winked at me.It was an audacious criminal act from a woman who should have known better.Then a notion that I shouldn’t have given the time of day too, entered my head. We were struggling, I was low, and if she could do it then so could i. I began with small things at first, newspapers , magazines and chocolate bars just to get a feel for it.My breath, every time I stole, was short and my hands were clammy and oh,the exhileration that surged through me afterwards; it felt good and was beginning to lift me from my depression. Witnessing the old lady take the cheese had opened new doors for me; it was a way out of the mire I felt myself in.Yes, it was wrong but it felt so damn good. More trips into the town centre and more and more goods would be dropped into my large carrier bag. My house began to fill up with all sorts of goods. The more I did the better the buzz and the less I relied on the Prozac. My self-esteem was returning with a vengeance. I never told my mother what I was up to;she was glad that I was happy and was feeling a lot better.My mother bless her, was unaware of my decision to become a professional thief, and was just happy to see the old me again. Mondays was always food shop day. I would fill the trolley to the brim, bring out an old receipt and loiter at the entrance pretending to read it.Then just wait until an innocent shopper set the alarm off, and then walk through. The rest of the week was set aside for trips into town where my stealing knew no bounds. From trousers to vases, plates and frying pans; I’d pinch anything and everything. The rush I felt in my head, the anticipation and nervousness surging through my body as I lifted my chosen item. It was never my intention to be a shoplifter but unfortunately I’d found my calling and it kept my depression at bay far easier than Prozac had.So far I’d never been caught, and if I was, I only expected a caution. I never felt guilty about what I was doing only a sense of satisfaction that I was finally doing something for my children. I was a provider again. I’d become a real mother looking after my son’s welfare; Well, that was my excuse. I was doing it for the kids I told myself on numerous occasions. Months passed, and my house began to bulge with the things I was pilfering. I wasn’t depressed anymore and my boys wanted for nothing. My life couldn’t get any better; or so I thought. It was on a Tuesday that my life was about to change again. Top shop is a clothes shop at the bottom of the high street and had suffered more than most from my thefts. I’d even had the audacity to wear the things I’d pinched, even taking them back and brazenly arguing with a naïve shop assistant who gave me a refund just to get rid of me.They began to employ a security guard called Mark, which shouldn’t have been a problem to an expert like me, but there was a problem:I just couldn’t take my eyes off him. I fancied him the minute I saw him and made regular trips to the store just to make idle chatter in the hope that he would ask me out. But he just kept smiling at me and never made the move on me that I wanted him so desperately to do. There was one thing I could do; and that was get caught stealing, and when he interviewed me in the back room and I could give that as a valid reason for my misdemeanours’, at the same time getting to know him. I did the dirty deed in front of him but he just smiled at me.I did it again and again but still he refused to apprehend me.At this rate the store would be empty of clothing, so in the end I just went up to him and confessed. At first he just gave me than smile that I loved, but then his face became serious and he knew all about what I was doing, and had called the police. I was shocked and felt betrayed. What was I going to do now? He marched me into the back room and that’s when he confessed to me that he really liked me, and hadn’t called the police. I him told that we needed to get together for a coffee and he agreed.My stealing began to wane as the weeks went by; I only did the occasional lift, much to Mark’s dismay. It was wrong and had to stop. When my mother found out about it she was shocked but pleased I had found someone even if it was in unusual circumstances. I’d found even more contentment. And that’s where my life as a thief ends and a new one begins; with me Dawn Kershaw standing at the alter with the man of my dreams about to place the ring on my finger and for us to take our oaths in front of each other. I looked around the church and saw the happy smiling faces of family and friends crying tears of joy. Mark didn’t like it but I’d stole the wedding dress just to have something to remember my old life by and keep as a memento of the past. I had nothing to worry or feel dreadful about. The words “ I do,” came easy for both of us. Yes, stealing is wrong, but it brought me a real happiness I never thought possible. Dawn I thought, as I was walking down the aisle, you deserve all you get!
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