When I was younger, my father had always told me about this one pyramid in Egypt. It had held a beautiful vase which cost millions of dollars. And the person who had it would be famous.....
I had made my way to the Temple of Osiris, located in Abydos . Why? I was on a mission, set from my master. You see, I am a thief. Well, I wouldn't really call it that. I would say that take things without returning them. Thief is such a disgusting word.
The pyramid stood tall and was intimidating me. Leaning like a giant, who is ancient and refuses to defeat. I enter the pyramid and make my way down the articulate corridors, which are clearly not made for people who are lanky and austere like me. Deep inside the Egyptian monument was a thousand year old vase, encased in a glass and diamond box.
Beautiful butterflies of different kaleidoscope colours surrounded the chipping art work. Gold paint turning a sharp, metallic bronze.
I turn and see the guards behind me. Talking amongst each other in hushed tones, speaking in a foreign language. "Don't think about touching it!" a tall, muscular man named Muhammad yells, as I go to trace the outlining shape of the vase. His eyes gleam mean and he clenches his jaw tight. He has prominent cheek bones which stick out of his olive skin.
I crawl back into my skin. Fingers trembling at my sides. My mind starts racing. How do I take the multimillion dollar vase? And how do I distract them? I can't simply yell out "HEY! Look! Gullible is written on the roof!" and steal the vase. They aren't that stupid. Maybe I could sneak back tonight. Break in. I could be the female Indiana Jones.
I feel small. As small as an ant who is stuck in a rain storm. Ideas flood over me and I'm nervous. I never wanted to get involved in this. I didn't ask to become a wanted woman, one that travels the world and steals pieces of art to make a career. If you could even call it that.
This isn't a living. When I finished school, I wanted to be a singer or a famous actress, everyone would idolise me. And now, now I'm wanted for crimes which if I was found by them I would be killed.
So how do I take this vase? I scan the area around me. And finally I see what looks like a sliding wall. If I push it, maybe I will be able to hide there. I have enough food and water to keep me going for approximately seven hours. I decide to push the wall when the guards are rough housing. And I'm shifted into another room. And here, in this gold fleck painted room, I see a billions of dollars of gold, jewellery and more art work.
That vase must be a fake. There are thousands of identical vases here. And to think that I had only one chance. I have struck the riches and believe that I have all the time in the world.
The air smells like cold hard cash. And it is a smell I could get used to. Filling my pockets with gold, I suddenly grow cautious about my whereabouts. Taking a deep breath in, I shudder. Someone else is in here.
"Helen...." A deep voice growls at me. And I realise that it's my own father. SHIT! I haven't seen him in god knows how long. Twenty or so years. He abandoned us after my mother died. Just shut himself off. Left with the woman next door and didn't bother to have contact.
"YOU! WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU WANT? FINALLY WANTING TO SEE ME AFTER SOME TWENTY OR SO YEARS....." and I cry. Collapsing to the floor, I realise that something must have changed him.
"Calm down Helen." The man says.
"Who do you think you are telling me to calm down? You aren't my father. You never stayed with me once mum died. Did she get bored of you? That cow who you 'loved oh so much'. The woman who was suddenly more important than your own family. Shows what you think of us. No wonder why I turned out the way I am. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT." I scream towards him.
It's silent, and I lay on the floor, surrounded with all the riches one girl could only dream of. Why? Why did he come here? No one except the boss knows that I am here.
"please, forgive me Helen. I truly am sorry."... pity. Like I need that after all of this. He was the one who left. Forgiveness is the last thing that I want to do.
"Don't you get it? I don't need you or want you. I've done fine for myself."
"Sure Helen, fine is what you're doing. Stealing, lying, fleeing from country to country. That's really the life that you wanted wasn't it? What happened to all those plans you made? You were going to be something, we all knew that..."
"Those plans changed Richard. They tend to when you have no money, are forced to leave school, have no family, an excuse for a father who leaves the day after his wife dies just to go with the slut next door.. great isn't it DAD? This is all your fault. You shaped me to be this way. And now you say that I had the choice.... I NEVER had the choice. You could have stayed. But no. And so now I need to do this."
I shake and consider shooting him. I know I could do it, anytime now. I just had to know one thing...
"What do you want from me? After all these years, you never tried to get in contact with me. And now, now that she's gone, you want me. How did you even know that I was here?" I stutter, my words barely audible.
"I've been following you Helen. I knew that you would come here eventually. I have my ways of keeping you safe. And you really want to know why I'm here? I have a warrant for your arrest. This is the last time Helen. I know that you've been warned. Being part of the FBI has helped me know you better. You have one chance. Turn yourself in, or be killed. Simple as that. You have the choice. Your fate is in your hands."
That was it. I grab the gun from my utility belt and hold it to his head.
"I'm so sorry dad. I can't live with this. I have to do it."
The gun, an ak47 is cold in my hands. Five bullets are loaded. And I shoot. He's knocked down and it's a sight to see. Six foot, five inches, fallen to the ground. With knives and pens, we made our plans.
I slide across the floor to sit next to him. Holding his hand which cools slowly under my tight grasp. Rigid and cold, he lay there. Dead and dying slowly, slowly, slowly.
Kayla McLintock is part of the Year 12 Hagley Community College Creative Writing class.
Over the last few weeks we've been featuring works from the students here on the Bunker Notes blog.