Soap had no money left, no friends to borrow from, and he had cut off ties with his mother... He had no job, and the rent was coming. The landlord didn't think to take pity on him. The money had to be paid today, period.

Now John wandered through the city streets, nervously biting the inside of his cheeks. He was heading home without a dime in his pocket. Sighing and ruffling his Mohawk nervously, he looked at the road ahead. The street was deserted, only a couple of steps ahead of him, a woman was walking slowly.

John caught himself thinking that you looked quite rich. No one would chase or stop him; all he had to do was take your phone or your purse. He slowed down, not overtaking you. He knew it was wrong, but did he have a choice?

It took a few seconds to think about it, and then he rushed forward, snatching the phone out of your hands and running away, when suddenly he heard your voice asking him to wait. In such a situation, a thief wouldn't even think of stopping, but John, confused or touched by the sadness in your voice, slowed down and looked back.

From the front, you looked less good. Red and tired eyes, disheveled hair. John didn't even have time to feel guilty when suddenly you took off your earrings and held them out to him along with your purse. But he couldn't move, standing there looking at you like you were crazy. What normal person would offer a thief more?

When he didn't move, you handed him your stuff yourself, walking away. When he came to his senses and opened his mouth to call out to you...

His eyes widened: he threw all the things on the ground and rushed towards you without even thinking. You slowly stepped into the roadway, toward the car that was fast approaching you. At the last moment, your hand was grabbed and yanked backward. Soap clutched at your coat, gripping your wrist tightly.

– Fucking earned on the rent.

But he didn't let go of your hand.

• What were you thinking, you idiot?