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Crime is a one-way road. When you stick your foot in that water, you just jump right in. There was a time when I was 6-years-old when I was completely unwary of this. Yup, I just drove right down that one-way road like I was falling down the Grand canyon. What brought me in to that state, well, there was a time when I had committed,

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It was a simple day for the six-year-old version of myself. All I wanted to do was get 3 birdhouses at Micheal’s to prepare for a play date with my friends Robert and Annie. During that time, I was anxious to get through the aisles to get back to the comfort of my own home, for I was afraid they would come, and just leave because they didn’t see anyone. The vision scared me pretty bad, so I ushered everyone to get out of there as fast as we could. For a moment, I fought with my mom, who thought that we didn’t need glue, and I believed we did, but in the end, she won. Right then, I tucked the glue in my pocket, but I had forgotten that I had done so. At the checkout aisle, the lady pulled along the birdhouses, paints, paintbrushes, and all of that other jazz.

After we took at least an inch outside of the pulled, I lunged at the parking lot, and pulled my mom forwards to the car. She pulled me back, and reminded me that we still had to go shop at the grocery store next door. My brother and I let out the most irritable groans, but we still went in with her. When we stepped through the automatic doors of wonder, I felt something in my pocket that leaned against my chest. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, and searched around for whatever was in there. Once I had finally traced what was leaning against me, I pulled it out of my pocket, and to my horror, I found that the stick of glue was in my pocket, the one we didn’t pay for!

I stole it! How could this be? My sweet self as a young child could never live with the fact that I had stolen! I was going to jail for life. (To me, if you got a fine 3 times you went to jail, and there was no such thing as a trial, so you would just go to jail instead of having the ability to defend yourself). I had to come clean. We needed to return it, so I would be able to live my life outside of jail. “MOMMY! I STOLE THE GLUE!” I sobbed to her. She looked down at me, gave me the most sincere smile, and assured me, “Charlie, we’ll return it. Don’t you worry a little bit.” ‘Don’t you worry’, to me, just gave me a reason to worry. “But mommy! I’ll go to jail!” I started crying loudly, and I knelt down and hugged her legs tightly, while she hoped no-one in the store saw it. I stood up, not loosening my grip against her in the slightest bit, and urged her to come to Micheal’s so we could apologize. I wanted her to drop everything she was doing, so I could prevent myself from spending the rest of my life shunned from the real world, and trapped in a cold, stone cell. The thought hurt to think about. She replied. “We’ll go after I get all of my things.”

GET ALL OF YOUR THINGS?!! HELLO! YOU’RE SON IS ABOUT TO BE LOCKED UP IN PRISON FOR THE REST OF HIS NATURAL LIFE! Her words infuriated me! Did she not care? Had she no regard for the fact I will not be able to live a real life if we didn’t leave at that exact moment. I tugged at her right arm, and ran beside it to get out of there. My poor mother pulled my back, and we continued shopping. My brother just followed along with us, not knowing what was happening during the scene. Moments went by of myself impatiently tapping my foot, and biting my lip. MY mom called out that she had grabbed the final item that we needed, and at that I pulled her and my brother to the door. We were going to just run out, and confess to what I have done. “Charlie, wait, I haven’t paid for our stuff yet!” She didn’t pay yet. I was about to steal, again! What kind of monster had I turned in to? I was so ashamed of myself. When I thought I was bad enough for taking one small glue stick, I was about to become even worse for taking much more than a glue stick. Then, I just gave myself up. I know what I did, I know that I did it, and I knew that I had to take responsibility for my actions. The outside of the store had to swarming with cop cars, as I had thought. When walked out of the magical door, my hands were raised far above my head, and my eyes were shut. I then realized that my hands weren’t locked behind my back, and there were no police cars.

That didn’t changed anything, except that I had a couple more minutes. We all ran to the Micheal’s next to the store we were at, and I quickly apologized to the woman there. To my surprise, she didn’t call the police on me. She had told me that it was fine, and that people do it all of the time. I was off the hook. That amount of time taught me how wrong it is to steal, and how I might not be as lucky the next time I evade the law. Never again did I even think about taking an item from one. But, this really was an event that I remember, thought it has no real meaning, because there has been plenty worse crimes than that committed, it was the worst (and only) time I scratched the law.

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