It all started one day. I found myself standing in front of a restroom mirror in a restaurant. My face was banged up pretty well after a trading blow with that guy. I was bleeding. Most pces and the parts that weren't beating were pretty scabbed over. At one point, I questioned why I wasn't crying, only to realize that I had cried so much at some point that my eyes dried up looking at myself. I couldn't help but chuckle; anyone could tell. I took one hell of a beating, and of course, if anyone asked, I'd say you should see the other guy, for which that guy managed to walk away after the fight. Oh, I needed help leaving, so I guess I was more like a loser even though I won the fight, but even still, as I gave them to my eyes, pain screamed all over my body. All I could do was ask myself. Was it worth it?

  To put some contacts m,e my friend and I had started middle school and went off to a bad start. Delinquent behavior, smoking, gambling, and the like usually mixed things, but after my final year came up, my friend started talking to me about dropping out. He felt like you weren't getting anything out of this. His parents were paying for something that the teachers weren't providing. They didn't bother teaching us. They didn't even bother dealing with us. Sure, we were delinquents, but we showed up for css. We try to listen, but the teachers don't bother seeing us as free spirits who won't even give the effort, contributing to his conclusion that there is nothing worth learning here at the school. So he said he would take a week off.

  Visit the countryside and decide if he wanted to drop out while he was doing that, and the gang in my care, which usually is whatever except while he was gone—a group of biker dropouts. At first, they harassed people around town, but then they worsened. Some of our guys started getting hurt. Of course, my people began coming to me about what we should do, but I took the white-to-see approach. We didn't want to start a war if they weren't doing anything on purpose, but the more we waited, the more of our guys got hurt. Eventually, I couldn't sit back anymore. The other guys wanted to pull up on them to teach them a lesson, but anyone with half a hint of common sense could tell our group fight wasn't ending well.

  So I told them to sit back, and I'll take care of it at that point. I found out they were hanging out at an abandoned hospital, so I figured I show up. Give them a scare, but the moment I pulled up on them and took out a few of their guys, they started acting like psychos each time I downed one of their people; they got more aggressive and fought even harder like they were missing out on the best thing ever, and they just had to get their turn. Eventually, I fought the st guy, who was even worse. He had knives at the wazoo. I got a bunch of cuts left and right. Of course, I pulverized a guy with an image of his life. By the time I finished, she was barely breathing. Of course, I was bleeding out on the floor, and my lungs were on fire. By the time I woke up, they were gone.

  According to my people, I found a note on my body saying we'd meet again, presumably from the leader of that biker gang. They all just got up and left after that night. Of course, I had to y low. I was too messed up to show up to school, but of course, looking at myself, I still had to ask. I maintained our reputation and put up a good fight, but at the end of the day, what was it for, and was it worth it no matter how much you asked me those questions? I couldn't get an answer to any of them, so with a heavy heart after receiving advice from one of my mentors, and I decided to hang up my hat. My bro came back from his trip with sad news. He decided he'd drop out, said there's more to life than school, and wanted me to join. I had even more unfortunate news for him. I decided to give education a more potent shot and quit the gang out of respect for me! He let me go.

  We haven't spoken much ever since. Of course, the teachers didn't teach me Jack, and we're too persistent with all the delinquents who do not need an education. So, I studied solo, which mainly was a patch job. Of course, I asked Pop to tutor me in exchange for working at his shop. Part-time wouldn't say I was an A+ student or no genius when I managed to get at least a decent score so that I could at least have my high school grades managed to squeak out with a c on all of my courses except math. For some reason, I passed with top marks. Some teachers were willing to teach me a little and suggested I take a college course. My parents didn't care for me and couldn't afford to waste Jack on me. So the moment I was out of school, they immediately kicked me out of the house, which I felt was for the best pumps paid me, and tutoring me for my services saved me enough to get myself a decent apartment in the city. When they moved there, I got a job delivering food. Even saved up enough for a tiny little moped. But Not enough for a car, sadly. He was doing well for me. Making minimum wage wasn't rich, but I could afford some food and amenities. Unfortunately, I didn't have to pay for college, but the dream was to make it up there so I could one day pay. However, things had to get worse. One day during goods, the moped busted on me about the thing used, so I didn't expect it to st forever,

  I figured I could get at least half of my money on it, but no dice were being broken down on me in the middle of nowhere, and it was in the middle of a job, too. I called the boss to see if I could make some, but he said he had no bodies to spar with, and if I didn't get the job done, I would be fired. So I'm down on the vehicle and a job since I have time to get them. I decided to wander the forest for a bit, dragging along the dead moped while I did. I kept going inward and couldn't afford to stay on the road. I didn't want to get hit. No one was coming for miles. Eventually, I found myself in front of what appeared to be an abandoned shrine, unlike one of those little houses with trees, decrations, and stone monuments, and cut like one of those pces where monks used to live—praying for rest while taking care of deities and the like. The entrance seemed to be walkable, but at the front of the entrance was a peach tree with one fruit hanging, particurly low, and was unnaturally alluring, so much so that I dropped my bike. I spilled the food on my bike and kept walking, not noticing the mess I had made as I reached the tree. I reached out for it, grasped it, and ate it. I had swallowed it like a fruit seed, and when I came to my senses, I was baffled by what came over me and then saddled by the voice behind me. " Will I be a fruit thief in this day and age? Ain't that rare "turnaround.

  I saw a man wearing some old in type clothes. Some loose-fit robes with a sash. The robes go all the way down to his knees. His hair was a mess. His beard was on camp but tied up to keep it out of his face. His eyes were also pretty sharp, but that wasn't the main thing that caught my attention. That was the fact he was transparent looking at him. I couldn't help but wonder if that fruit was either expired or had some hallucinatory properties that I just wasn't aware of. I don't recall fruit being a potential drug item like mushrooms. Maybe it wasn't a fruit. Some kind of mushroom that grows on trees. As I pondered, the ghost tried to get my attention." you got a name thief?" I couldn't help but give out an awkward surprised sound. "huh, " The ghost gave out a devilish smirk, catching on to the fact that I wasn't paying attention to him." a name. I get it, Big Time fruit thief like you's got no time for an old-timer like me. But you can at least give your moniker. It's common courtesy for any criminal worth their salt" he chuckled to himself. Eyeing me up and down.

  I'm sure what to make of it. I apologized for stealing his fruit, although I was unaware that ghosts could have possessions in the physical world. Wondering if the fruit was a part of his family's legacy or something while apologizing. I expined to him how my day had been going, which somehow led him to me telling him my life story. Of course, it seemed as though what I told him was chock full of entertainment, so much so that he told me something interesting. " I see you're quite the unfortunate soul, but that doesn't excuse thievery, and you have someone with a reputation to uphold. I can't let you get away. Scot-free, so I have no choice but to curse you. You're in luck. Looks like you are getting a new job," patting my arm. I felt a burning sensation lifting my sleeve! I saw three bck rings form on my upper arm. I don't know what to make of it. I rubbed it. It felt like part of my body, but I never had any tattoos. I couldn't get into the idea of self-inflicting pain to decorate your body. Everyone else seemed to praise the practice like it's the next big thing just couldn't get behind it. " Congratutions, you got the curse of thieves!"