Pillow Talk || Closed
@thenumberoftwelve
A boy had to survive somehow. A boy had to eat.
That was how it had started. Hunger. The first candy bar stolen at the corner shop, slipped quietly and quickly into Jacob’s pocket when nobody had been watching. While his mom was high or drunk or both and the man he refused to call dad was fucking the waitress from his favourite bar in Jacob’s bed.
Hunger was what drove him out.
A candy bar first. Then a can of beans. His first package of cigarettes, too. And booze. Because a boy had to stay warm, when nobody remembered to pay bills. Booze had made him feel warm. And cigarettes, too.
And the leather jacket he had slipped from a chair in a coffee shop.
Jacob wasn’t an ambitious thief. He wasn’t an ambitious person in general. Money didn’t even interest him all that much. A full stomach and warmth was what Jacob was after. And something he could use to drown out the anger. An anger that had only grown after mom had died a few weeks ago. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man now. Or had to become one. Quickly. How, he wasnt sure.
Hunger and anger were his only companions now that his mother had been cremated. Hunger and anger his only friends.
An empty stomach was what drove him out that night, as well. He’d never broken into someone’s house before. Somehow that had felt… wrong. Too far. Too bold, even for the boy with the big mouth and the overeager fists. Getting into fights. Barking insults. Smashing his knuckles into concrete walls. It wasn’t ambitiousness that made him change his procedure. It was the empty fridge he’d found at home. And the holes in his shoes.
He didn’t pick the fancy houses. The villas and rich areas. He stayed close to his own neighbourhood, where houses were run down and dirty. No white picked fences. No family cars in the drives. No smiling housewives with baskets of cupcakes who organized charity events in the suburban community. At least Jacob had seen that on TV. He wasn’t sure if people like this actually existed.
It was one of the run down ones he picked. People here didn’t really give a fuck about security systems. There was usually nothing to steal anyway. Nothing of value. But Jacob didn’t want anything of value. He wanted a peanut butter jelly sandwich and a beer. And a pair of shoes. Maybe a blanket, if he found one.
Getting in was surprisingly easy with the crowbar from the car dump next to the trailer park. Jacob wasn’t subtle or skilled. He wasn’t even particularly strong, scrawny unfed kid he was, but desperation was a good teacher, and after a little noise and fumbling with it, he had the window open after a few minutes.
The house seemed empty and quiet, much to his relief, and with a growling stomach, Jacob slipped into the hallway, padding towards the room he assumed would be the kitchen. He was lucky, opened a few cupboards and drawers and peeked into the fridge.
That was the last thing he remembered.
