I was 15; I was lost. All the worst things had happened at the worst possible time: the girl my foolish 15 year-old self thought I loved left for Europe, my best friend had come back from an extended vacation with a crippling addiction to cocaine. Life was not particularly fun.
At this time, my cousins lived across the street. We always hung together, doing random stuff. One day, one of them said, Do you want to rob somebody? It had never crossed my mind before.
Why not? It’s not like I had anything better to do. Besides, it was a way to take my mind off all of these things. I wouldn’t say they pressured me into it, but I wouldn’t have come to that conclusion myself.
Later that night, we covered our faces with scarves and waited around a different neighborhood till we found someone who looked like a good target. We stopped this person, held them at knifepoint, and took the watch, money, and left the ID.
I never read anything about it, never heard anything about it. We split everything between us.
Months went by, and I couldn’t spend the money. I kept it for so long… I eventually just put it in a charity jar and sent it on its way.
It never hit me. I never felt bad. Looking back, I regret it, but I don’t feel bad about it.
I just wish I had made a different decision.