Page 17 - Tank

“Tank saved me.”

Matt let the words hang in the air. They were strong words. Powerful ones filled
with truth. Tank saved him in so many ways.
“Tank and I came to the home on the same day,” Matt continued. He fought back
a sob as memories flooded his soul. Matt looked back at Annabelle. Her smile
sweet. His eyes encouraged him to continue. She wanted to hear the story of her
savior.
“We went through…,” Matt continued. Took a seat as he explained how he and
Tank went through the rooms together. Told Annabelle of the abuse they suffered
at the hands of the older boys. The abuse they suffered at the hands of the owner.
Their routine as they lived in hell, day in and day out.
Only Matt noticed their routine wasn’t the same as several of the older boys. The
owner had a sideline going on. He used the older boys as thieves. When Matt
noticed they got special privileges, he wanted in.
“I learned to pick pockets,” Matt said. Made Annabelle laugh as he told her all
about the mannequin they used with bells all over it. You rang a bell, you got hit.
You didn’t, you got to do it again. And again. Until you could do it without
thought.
He became an expert. He could take the tie right off a guy eating lunch and the
man wouldn’t notice. The owner put him to work. The man actually made Matt
feel good. Feel proud of his ability. Called Matt a good earner. Until one horrible
night.
“I was twelve when I got caught,” Matt said. Looked out the window
remembering the harshness of what happened next.
He picked the pocket of a cop. One who knew what a pickpocket could do. A cop
who’d set Matt up. He looked like the perfect mark. Until Matt slipped his hand
into the cop’s pocket and came away with handcuffs on his wrist. The cop was
better than Matt. Much better at the game.
Matt knew what to do. He’d been prepped for this by several of the older boys.
You don’t say anything. Not one word. You let them do whatever it is they wanted
to do to you, but you never spoke. It was a rule. The owner’s biggest rule. The one
Matt broke.
“I told the cops everything,” Matt said. His voice cracked over the memory.
He had told them everything. Told them he worked for the owner. Told them
how the owner force him to steal. Talked about what went on at the home. The
abuses, the punishments, the basement. He opened up about what happened to him
when the owner took him down to the basement.
The cops listened. Matt could hardly believe it. They listened and asked him
questions. Such as how many people had he stolen from. How did the money work?
Did he participate in the burglaries? Was he hungry?
They treated him with kindness. Up until the minute they turned him over to the
owner.
“I was a walking dead man,” Matt said.