My life soon became about beating the game. Bending the rules anyway I could, while getting in the least trouble. It became about the rush. The adrenaline rush. It was like my drug. Climbing trees and buildings just so I could break into someones house and steal the belongings they worked so hard to get. It didn't faze me when I would steal a TV or a phone. I would only steal valuables, maybe a necklace or earrings that looked unused and old.

I hadn't gotten caught yet. I was careful, smart. I wore gloves that wouldn't snag and hospital booties over my shoes. I stole for the fun of it. It was like a moment of pure happiness even though I was taking items that didn't belong to me. All that changed though when I had broken into 2 houses that night and was on a high. I started to get sloppy. I started to make mistakes. Mistakes that could cost me. I was walking towards my third house when I heard the sirens. they had found me, I started to run. Fast then faster. One of my hospital booties fell of but I was running to fast to realize it. If they found that bootie they could track me. I was about to get caught I could feel it.

The sirens grew louder as I hopped a fence into someones backyard, then they slowly disappeared. I was scared for my life. I wasn't far from my house and kept hopping fences until I recognized the familiar feel of the grass on my feet and I saw the swing set I used to play on when I was five, back when everything was easy, and just dancing around with my parents made me happy. I quickly climbed up the ladder that led to the roof, I could climb across to get to my window. I hopped down into my room trying to make as little noise as possible so I didn't wake my parents. I felt safe now. I put my gloves and my bootie into a special bag and put it in the back of my closet. I was freaking out about the other bootie but there was nothing I could do about it now, so I climbed into bed and fell into a deep sleep.

My alarm blared loudly and I rolled over. My head felt like someone was hammering next to my ear. I slowly got up and went downstairs. I smelt bacon coming from the kitchen and voices talking. I stopped walking not recognizing the deep voice.

“We have reason to believe that your child has been doing some illegal activity.” The voice said.

“Like what?” I heard my mom's voice reply.

“Breaking into people's houses at night.”

“Oh George!” I heard my mom exclaim. Oh man was I in trouble. I tentatively walked down the stairs to catch a look at who else was in the kitchen. I stopped short. I saw the blue bootie I was wearing last night on the counter. Oh, crap it was the cops! I tried to turn around but I wasn't quick enough. My dad had heard a noise and came to investigate. He saw me turning towards the stairs.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” I heard. He grabbed my arm so I wouldn't make a getaway. The police officer turned towards me with a serious, and smug look on his face.

“Samantha Goodall, you are under arrest for breaking and entering. You are to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, you have the right to....” He continued on as he led me out of the house towards to the cop car. I heard my mom crying behind me. I looked back my dad had a stern look on his face. He didn't show me any emotion, he couldn't. He wouldn't let me see him weak.

“Why would she do this George?!” She cried into his chest.

“I don't know Susan, I really don't.” Then he turned and led my mom into the house. The last thing I saw as the cop closed the door was my dad's face. Confused, hurt and disappointed. The worst look you can get from a parent. Tears rolled down my eyes as the car drove away. The thrill was fun. Getting caught wasn't.