Chapter 5: Escalation

I thought refusing her would be the end of it, but the next day, same time and place, she was waiting for me again, grabbing me as I passed—

“Young man, please, have a heart. My son’s disabled, my husband’s a janitor, our family lives off my recycling. Now they’re both in the hospital, I can’t pay the bills, the hospital’s about to kick them out.” Her voice cracked, and she clutched my arm, knuckles white.

The morning air was sharp with exhaust and cheap cologne. Every time she grabbed my arm, her grip felt like ice. She cried and wailed, drawing a crowd. People who didn’t know the story started pointing fingers. I felt their eyes on me, heavy with judgment, and heard their whispers swirl like a bad breeze.

“That’s right, young man, just let it go. She admitted her mistake—just give her the receipt.”

“You say that now, but if you lost something, you’d see how it feels!”

“Ha, call it karma.”

Everyone was talking. The old lady’s face kept changing, but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong, nails digging in. I wanted to shake her off but didn’t want to look like the bad guy.

Just then, a woman in the crowd called out: “Hey, isn’t that Granny Wilson? What, stealing packages from your own building isn’t enough, now you’re stealing scooter batteries too?” It was Mrs. Sanchez from two floors up—she didn’t take crap from anybody.

The old lady instantly dropped the pitiful act, jumped up, and shoved her way toward the voice: “Which little brat is slandering me? Didn’t your mom teach you to respect your elders?” She glared at Mrs. Sanchez, who just folded her arms and stared right back. People started murmuring, the scene turning tense.

She and the woman started arguing, the scene turned chaotic, and I took the chance to slip away. I darted toward the curb, nearly tripping over a cracked sidewalk tile, and melted into the morning rush.

Second day, third day, fourth day... Every day after that, she ambushed me the same way, demanding the receipt, begging me to save her family. Each time, her sob story got more dramatic—she even claimed her dog needed surgery at one point. The other residents started giving me sympathetic looks, but nobody offered to help.

The more she pestered me, the more terrified I got. After I finally refused her even more firmly, she snapped and called 911—saying she wanted them to punish me for being heartless. I watched her dial, hands shaking, as she screamed at the dispatcher about my cruelty. It was surreal.

Fine. Let them come. I’ve never seen a thief cry victim like this before. I leaned against the bike rack, arms folded, bracing myself for whatever came next.

Soon, the police arrived.

One older, one younger. By then, Granny Wilson was tired of kneeling and sat on the ground. I copied her and sat too. The cold concrete seeped through my jeans. A couple of bystanders started livestreaming on their phones, probably hoping for a viral moment. The flashing red-and-blue lights painted the sidewalk in dizzy stripes.

The officers frowned at us: “Why are you both sitting on the ground? What’s going on here?” The younger one looked barely out of the academy, and the older one had seen it all before.

Before I could say a word, the old lady crawled over to the officers’ feet with surprising agility: “Officer, you have to stand up for us old ladies who collect cans! This man bullied me all the way to my home—he’s just too much!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice wavering for effect.

As soon as she finished, the younger officer hurried to help her up, shooting me a glare. He clearly thought I was the villain of the piece. The older cop just sighed, rubbing his temples, probably wishing he’d called in sick.

I folded my arms and looked at her with disdain, waiting to see what trick she’d pull next. I wasn’t going to cave—not after everything I’d learned. I stared at the flashing lights on the squad car, feeling like I’d wandered into a daytime talk show.

A couple of people started recording, the crowd pressing in, hungry for drama. My heart hammered as I realized: the real fight was just getting started.