Hell is other people.
Aiden lived his life with that conviction. It was the singular truth that he worked hard, every morning, to remind himself while he observed the infinite stream of humans rushing about.
His routine was simple: wake up, steal some wallets, and then find a place to eat while he finds more targets to steal. Sometimes, he tries to spice things up and go for the usual scams — car accidents, ignorant collectors, or fake charities.
The harder the job, the more the fun it was.
Aiden enjoyed his routine. It allowed him to see what kind of people are stupid enough to fall for his scams or pickpocketing. He remembered stealing a wallet from a man who turned out to be a father of five.
Christmas would suck for them.
But it was his fault for thinking his genes were valuable enough to be passed down five times.
On rarer occasions, Aiden would avoid humans entirely. He avoided them like the plague with all their facades and self-convinced ideas.
There were two types of people in the world: the kind who knows they are selfish, and the kind who fools themselves otherwise until they are presented with a choice.
"But I would sacrifice myself to save the world," Nail said, who was a bright thin boy from the slums. His name was Neil, but it turned to Nail because of his scrawny body and oversized head.
"Instead of a one-time act," Aiden's best friend, Roonie, argued back, "What if I tell you that each minute a person would die for all eternity, but you can stop it by swallowing a nail?"
"A person already dies every minute," Aiden interjected. "Far more than one."
"And our friend here raises a fair point, Nail," Ronnie continued. "If your sacrifice needs to be worth it, like saving the world instead of just one human, then you aren't doing it for others — you are doing it for yourself."
Nail looked like he has been hammered into the ground — shoulders slumped, eyes dejected, and head hanging low. Ronnie didn't seem to notice the change, but Aiden did.
Still, he said nothing.
Ronnie was right.
The three were long-time friends ever since the slums spit them at one another. In the streets where death and starvation were common, a flicker of friendship appeared between them — or that's what Aiden thought.
Ronnie was the one who taught Aiden how to earn a living. Although pickpocketing and scams were far from a living, Aiden was grateful for his friend because he taught him how to survive.
A week later from that conversation, Nail died while trying to save a woman from being run over by a car. Both of them died instantly, and their bodies were unrecognizable.
Aiden told his mother when he went home, but she didn't care. She screamed at him for not bringing her more alcohol and food. As he stood there and received flying empty bottles, she said it again.
"Don't look at me like that," his mother barked. "You look just like him— ashen hair and those dissatisfied eyes. I loathe them, and you. Get out of my sight. You will abandon me too, won't you?"
His mother spent another hour screaming at him and crying over his father who abandoned her before Aiden was born. After she fell asleep, Aiden cleaned the glass from the ground and left to find Ronnie.
"Nail died," Aiden said. "It happened while he was trying to save someone from a car, but failed."
"How could he save anyone, with twigs for arms?" Ronnie looked at Aiden with furrowed brows. "What a lame death."
That was the end of their conversation. Ronnie was never the type to get emotional. He had many friends, and most of them died in the slums. He would move one faster than he could walk out of the alley.
A few months later, Ronnie proposed a job that would set them for life: a heist. An auction was being held in their city, and items from all around the world will be transported. If they could steal anything before it arrives at the auction house, they would be set for life.
Aiden refused the idea. It was too risky and too hasty. Ronnie kept pestering him for another week, telling him that Aiden would be the one to steal the items while Ronnie distracts the guards escorting the shipment. In the end, Ronnie told him to think about it some more.
One day, he returned home to find it upside down. The splintered wooden furniture was on the ground. Shards of glass were everywhere. Aiden thought it was another drunken fit when a man stormed out of his mother's room.
"Please! Don't leave!" his mother's shouts came after that.
"Leave me alone, crazy old hag!" the man shouted back as he pushed Aiden aside. "Every time… she cries about her damn husband…"
The door slammed behind the man as his angry footsteps could still be heard from within the empty living room. A moment later, his mother came out of the room — half-dressed, drunk, and disheveled.
"Where is he?" she asked him.
"Gone."
Aiden expected her to take out her anger on him. However, his mother looked lost, broken, and almost invisible. She sighed and then slumped on the couch. Her hands trembled as she pulled out a cigarette to smoke.
"…I guess I'm no longer pretty enough for them to ignore what a mess I am," his mother said as she inhaled the acidic smoke. Her gaze lingered on the walls, and then turned back to Aiden. "Am I no longer pretty, Denny?"
Aiden stared at her without answering.
"You stand there looking at me like I'm some sort of filth," his mother said with a chuckle as she rose. "Your gaze is harsher than any stranger's, my dear."
His mother rose from the chair. Smoke left her mouth as she ambled toward him. Her clothes were loose, and her brunette hair was a mess of twisted wires. She stood before him and took another puff from her cigarette.
"Be a man and answer me," she said, and the smell of alcohol almost sent Aiden unconscious. "You have what makes you a man, don't you?"
His mother reached toward his groin and placed a firm grip on it. Aiden flinched, and it made her smirk at him. All she wanted was a reaction.
"How about you save mommy the trouble of finding a different man to satisfy her?" she asked, smiling with yellow teeth. "You are quite the handsome man, even more than your father."
Aiden was frozen. His mother has always been a mess, but never to this degree. She was never sober, but her actions didn't extend beyond physical violence. As she saw his lack of reaction, she inched closer, bringing her face an inch from his.
A bubbling volcano exploded from within his chest, and Aiden found himself moving without thinking. His hands slammed to his mother, sending her flying over the living room and crashing on its furniture. The noise was loud, but he could hear nothing.
The next moment, Aiden fled from the house without looking back. He didn't even remember to take his belongings before he ran down the street and as far as possible from his mother.
He could hear her screams for him, but he didn't turn back. His mind was a mess, knowing that his life was never going to be the same.
A few hours later, Aiden came to a halt. He was outside of Ronnie's house, which was a small bar where Ronnie worked with his foster father. It was a hub for gangs and the drunk, which explained why it was still bustling at this hour.
Ronnie spotted him as soon as Aiden came through the door. His friend rushed toward him and asked no questions. Instead, he led him to the backroom and offered him food and ale.
"You look like a mess," Ronnie said. "Drink, eat, and sleep. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
Ronnie rose to leave the storage room, when Aiden called for him. The former turned, staring at Aiden who was in turn staring into his cup. His hands were trembling, and the ale was rippling.
"Let's do… the heist," Aiden said, his gaze blank. "Let's get as far away from this place as possible."
Ronnie was silent.
And then, he grinned.
"That's my boy."