Eightpence

They say you live together, but die alone. I learned from a young age that that wasn't the case. Well, half of it anyway. I'll let you guess which half.

My mother died giving birth to me. I'd like to think my father didn't blame me. He always tried to be kind - a sad smile here, a terse hug there - but for as long as I could remember, it always felt like he was simply going through the motions. I'd look at other children and see the warmth, the love in their family. There was none of it in mine.

Maybe it was my mother's death. Maybe that's just how my father'd always been. Either way, I'd learned to live alone long before my father left. Nobody came looking for him. Or me, for that matter.

When they came for the house, I learned to hide. When food ran out, I learned to steal. Instinct. Survival. Very few start a life of crime just for kicks.

((It's Coming...))

((It's Coming...))

((It's Coming...))

((It's Coming...))

((It's Coming...))

((It's Coming...))