I was in trouble. I mean, I was truly in trouble. See, I knew I was taking something precious but I didn't think there would be anything set up to stop me if I did so. What was the fundamental flaw in my thinking here? My stupid ass honestly thought that I could get away with willfully committing a crime because I thought I wouldn’t get caught in the act. It didn't matter that I needed it because I failed to consider what it would cost the other person. What if the heart stone I decided to steal was owned by someone much like myself? What if they found it and it was everything to them? Their hopes and dreams? Their way out of a bad situation? I was being selfish.

It's not that I think there's absolutely no justification for a crime to be committed. Hell, we have crime of passion designations for that very purpose. I mean, some situations we become trapped in can lead us to think subjectively, not objectively, and the morality of our actions then becomes ambiguous. Did we do what we did because we honestly thought it was right, or did we do it simply because we wanted to? At what point can an outside viewer make a distinction between the two? Honestly, proving intent is one of the most difficult things to do in a legal setting. Consider a revenge killing. Did the accused use the death of a loved one or associate as an excuse to kill someone, anyone, or were they genuinely tormented by the results of an event they couldn't cope with?

The truth of the matter is that morals are subjective. The observer decides within themselves if their own, or another's, actions are just and correct. Sure, there is a general consensus in some cases. But that's where it stops and is often hyperbolized. It's only some cases, not all. For example: we generally agree that killing is wrong. But what if you have to kill someone or something in order to save your own life? Let’s say a bear attacks you while you're hiking through the woods. You're armed with a 12 gauge shotgun but the bear doesn't know or care about that. Do you simply let it kill you? Or do you shoot it and flee? Most would shoot it and flee. That bear isn't some poor, defenseless creature. It's a fucking bear! You're the poor, nearly defenseless creature, and you were targeted by an apex predator. You think a rhino wouldn't fight back against a pack of lions when it has the tools to? Of course it would. The martyr is the fool. What if this is the only life we get? No do-overs, no afterlife? Then what? You would have thrown yours away for nothing but an ideal that didn’t make ANYTHING better.

So, there I was, trapped. Predator became prey. That's just the way it was. I put myself in that situation. All I had to do was leave well enough alone but I just had to dick around with what wasn't mine or any of my business. What was wrong in my life wasn't the owner's fault. And I clearly fucked with the wrong one because this son of a bitch was apparently a magician. I gaped at those tall walls shaking and roaring at me whenever I moved.

I heard my own voice in my head say, “Put it BACK!” The tone was dark and aggressive. I didn't think anything of it at the time because I was in a situation that didn't really allow for me to think about it that much. For the first time in a very long time I had started to experience actual fear. Not caution or discouragement, fear. And I couldn't bring myself to move again. What if those walls fell in on me?

Voice: [roaring] PUT. IT. BACK!

This time my inner voice sounded more like an actual voice. It was weird because nothing moved. The forest creature's should have fled as the voice boomed, but there was nothing. I, on the other hand, was now genuinely afraid. My ears rang and my head throbbed. I had no other viable options. I had to take a chance and do what I was being told to do. I carefully and slowly pushed myself back toward the pedestal while the walls hummed with violent energy. I felt like I was somehow being watched.

Me: [nervous] Okay. Putting it back. My bad.

The walls hummed less violently as I got closer to the pedestal. I turned around and slammed the gargantuan gem back onto it before hurrying to face the wall ahead of me. The humming finally stopped and I sat there in silence for the first time since I entered this fucked up place.

Me: [shouting] WELL? I PUT IT BACK! NO HARM, NO FOUL, RIGHT? ISN'T THAT THE DEAL?

There was a pause. Then the newer walls floated back up into the sky. My eyes followed them up and, for the first time, I saw something floating up there that I never expected to see. How come I didn't look there before? I felt like an asshole. There was a platform hovering high over head.

Me: [incredulous] WHAT THE HELL?! I DIDN'T SEE OR HEAR ANY CHOPPERS! YOU WERE WATCHING ME ALL THIS TIME AND DIDN'T THINK TO STOP ME?! WHAT KINDA SHIT IS THAT?!

I still didn't hear anything or even see any lights. I thought that was strange. I should have at least seen the edge of some propellers up there. There was no way one helicopter could hold all of that by itself. Each of those walls had to be 1000 tons. And when I really thought about it, how the fuck did they manage to pull them back up? A handful of cables couldn't do that. There would have needed to have been dozens attached to each wall. And that's assuming the walls wouldn't just break free or apart.

Yes, I was really that smart as a kid. Just because I was a hood doesn't mean I couldn't have been a genius too. Social status doesn't ipso facto speak for intelligence, understand? And while we're on it, neither does age. In case you didn't know, it's been discovered that babies use deductive reasoning to learn through observation. So, being poor and a kid didn't make me an idiot - and at 14, my brain was pretty developed compared to that of a small child's.

I'm getting distracted.

The walls went up, did some kind of locking in movement, and then just stopped. That was odd too. They moved like they were on a track. I was getting freaked out again, so I got up and ran out as quickly as I could. I instinctively slammed the door as soon as I got through it, as if that would help. That was admittedly not a shining moment for me. But I was kind of panicking, in my defense. I looked up again and still didn't see what was holding that structure up. I did, however, learn how the owner might have built this damn open box I was stranded by. I'm sure you can figure it out too.

I decided I had enough and marched to the forest line. Fuck that, I was going to get home somehow. I was already sure I had a brutal beating coming in my near future, I wasn't about to deal with any more of that nonsense too. I shook the spot. Well, I thought I was doing that but it didn't really pan out that way. I stepped into the forest, went a few hundred feet, saw a clearing, and stepped out into the same goddamn area.

Me: [exasperated] Jesus! That's great! I walked in a damn circle! Could this night get any worse?!

I couldn't even tell what side I was on. I figured I must have gotten thrown off while dodging trees and tried again. I was extra careful too, making sure to count my steps to either side so I could return to my original path. Guess what happened. Yup. I ended up back in the same clearing. Needless to say, I gave up after that. I didn't need a third try to see where that was going. This was either a lucid nightmare or some kind of twisted trap. I leaned against the wall for a while before I slid down it and just sat in the grass.

Me: [tired] I guess I'll get back how I got back before. However the hell that was.

I sat there for what seemed like hours before I fell asleep. I woke up the next day in my bed and Mom hadn't moved. I actually woke up before she did. I changed and snuck my clothes into the washer, then made breakfast for us. If she really didn't notice I was gone, maybe she would appreciate the gesture. Heaven knows I needed a break from abuse for a while.

Mom smelled breakfast and rolled out of bed. She lumbered into the kitchen and didn't say a word. She looked at me, looked at breakfast, sat down, and started eating. We had a meal together for the first time in a long time. When she finally spoke, she asked about school. I wasn't having an easy time but I just told her things were fine. Yeah, I lied. But when you consider the alternative, most of you would have too. There was no getting out of that kitchen unharmed. If she knew I had given up already and started skipping class, she'd have killed me. The school was hard on me; more politics than teaching. I needed someone to invest in me, not just babysit me while they tried to figure out how to get more money and deal with the parents, police, and gangs. Not only that, I was dealing with the psychological effects of shooting someone. It wasn't what I thought it would be. It was heavy and I really felt alone.

I wasn't doing well.