Jake had always been strange. Unintelligible to his peers, a mystery to his family, a stranger to... everyone. He didn’t do foolish things, nor did he speak without thinking. And yet, a vast, soundless chasm separated him from society. He existed in a world that was too loud, too obvious, too… simple.
He had to grow up fast. His coming of age was not a rebellion, but a strategic retreat. His mother raised him alone, but he wanted for nothing. Education, a home, a quiet understanding—he had everything for a good, predictable life. For a future that could be calculated like a simple equation. His life before “that moment” was a perfectly constructed cage. Good grades, quiet evenings with his mother, a predictable tomorrow. He was a ghost in a house where the loudest event was the ticking of the clock. The future seemed to him like a long, clean corridor with a single door at the end. And he walked toward it without asking questions. He was the perfect son for a single woman—predictable as an algorithm. The future lay before him, smooth and dull, like an endless line of code without errors.
And then everything went off the rails. When exactly? He doesn’t remember. Maybe the very moment his fingers first answered a prompt in a dark chat? Or when, holding his breath, he typed “agree”? Now it didn’t matter anymore. He had been noticed. Not by the police, but by others—those who valued the elegance of thought over brute force. They offered him not a job, but something more. His gift—a sharp, cold, intuitive mind, a sense for the weak points in the world’s digital armor—had been recognized. That alone was enough. He was finally valued for what he was worth. Perhaps that was the root of all his troubles: his ability to see what was hidden had turned into a curse. Maybe that’s why things unfolded the way they did?
He was a ghost in the backstreets of the city, a shadow slipping through other people’s lives and secrets. His world had narrowed to the blind spots between surveillance cameras, to the gaps in patrol routes, to the faint clicks in the silence, feeling the chill of being watched in every reflection on the screen. He became a master of quiet intrusion, a thief who left behind only a lingering sense of bewilderment and perfect order at the scene of the “crime.” His quarry wasn’t money (though it flowed like a river), but the fact itself: “I was here, and you never knew.”
Jake knew how to shatter the illusion of everything around him. As if he could break the fourth wall with just a touch of his finger. And yet… Was it worth everything that had happened? He could bypass any security, crack any safe, read any locked diary as easily as an open book. But in the silence of his sterile apartment, where even the air felt purified and every object rested in its place with geometric precision, a strange feeling would catch him. The price he hadn’t even had time to grasp while drunk on his own omnipotence.
And now, standing at the peak of this lonely pyramid of other people’s secrets and money, he asked himself: what exactly had he stolen? Jewelry, documents, other people’s secrets? Or had he stolen from himself something far more valuable, something that could never be restored with a simple turn of a lockpick? Freedom? A quiet life?…
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis