The Inmate

How could someone with such an angelic face have done something as horrific as he did? He seemed like the type who probably asked his mother what color underwear he should wear. 'Ray Johnson' even his name seemed ordinary. There was nothing ordinary about Ray Johnson though. The infamous, charming man who killed his two-year old son. No wonder his wife left him. But what kind of a mother leaves her son to live with a man like him, I wondered. Again, it was none of my business. I wasn't a great person myself. Huh, not even close to great. Here I was, judging a criminal while eyeing a loaf of bread. I promised myself I wouldn't do it again. Promised. Though, this didn't change the fact that I hadn't eaten for twenty-four hours or more while roaming the crowded streets of Texas looking for a job. I slipped into the supermarket. No one was around. Naturally, I headed towards the baking aisle to pocket some bread for myself. I tried not to look at the empty cash counter. I wondered how much cash it had in there. Thinking of the eviction notice I was about to get from the owner of my apartment didn't help. This life was still much better than living with my mom who brought sleazy boyfriends nearly every day. I didn't care that I could have three meals a day at that time. It felt like living a nightmare in her house. Any place but there was better.