Markus Bajeir: A Short Story

Markus Bajeir was born in Phoenix, Arizona he spent his childhood years with his family gradually he turned fifteen. At this age he began to think of what he had in store for his future in life. Not being exactly sure what he wanted to spend his time doing, he thought of multiple careers such as law enforcement, veterinarian, and even a bus driver. All the jobs seemed like a good choice that he would be able to create a future for himself with though he kept his thoughts and doubts to himself. He continued to go to school getting good grades until he turned sixteen when his grades started going down, and he started spending time with a bad crowd. Every once in a while he would sneak behind the school to smoke a cigarette, or plainly to skip
class. Other times he would go to the arcade or just out for a walk in the city, until the one day that his parents Martha and David, Bajeir, called the police since their son, Markus, had not returned home at the usual time. Markus had been with two of his friends, both apart of the sort of "bad" crowd. Markus did not think much of it, he did not really care about anything, since he figured he had nothing to look forward to in the future of his life. One of the two friends had carried a backpack with them while they were out, eventually they found themselves behind a small, and not well known gas station. The same friend carrying the backpack pulled out an object from the backpack keeping it out of eye distance of Markus, while the second friend had already known what was going on. Markus watched as the friend of his walked closer still keeping the object out of Markus' sight, slowly he offered the grip of the object to Markus. Markus glanced down to the object realizing it had been a small revolver, Markus not being exactly sure what to do with it, grabbed the side arm from the friend just letting it rest in his own hand. Markus' friend moved closer towards him slightly whispering words into his ear "Go point it at the clerk and get the money from the register.". Markus still confused took a minute to think it over, his heart race increasing, along with a bit of fear. He then tossed the cigarette that he had been smoking into the dirt moving his foot over it, simply squishing the light area between his shoe and the dirt. Markus moved the revolver that had been resting in his hand into the pocket in his hoodie, as he raised his hood walking into the gas station. Keeping his head down from the security cameras for the most part, he slowly moved over to the clerk standing behind the counter, his heart still racing, he quickly retrieved the revolver from the pocket raising it to the mans chest. Not being familiar with firearms at all, he simply held the side arm pointed towards the clerks chest with his finger off the trigger. The clerk slowly backed up raising his hands into the air awaiting Markus' demands as he looked the hooded figure into the eyes. Markus ordered the man to take the money from the register and place it into a store bag, the clerk quickly opened the register quickly pulling out the slots containing the money stuffing it into a plastic bag before handing it over to the hooded figure. Markus some what snatched the bag from the man running out of the store not paying attention to the security cameras, he ran around to the back meeting his friends that had been there handing the one with the backpack the bag of money.
Quickly they all ran towards their neighborhood which was a rather nice one, Markus ran home ahead of the other two still shocked at what he had did. Sneaking back into the house as it had been after midnight he sneaked up to his room, laying in his own bed, he fell asleep. The next morning when he awoke he walked downstairs meeting his father, David, speaking with a police officer at the door. David glanced over to his son as he came down the stairs, pausing his conversation with the police officer, he simply shook his head towards his son and turned his attention back to the police officer. Markus sat down at the dining room table without getting breakfast first watching his father and the officer have the conversation. Eventually the police officer left, and his father closed the door taking a seat next to his Markus at the dining table. Neither one of them spoke to one another, simply kept to themselves. It was at that point that Markus' road down had begun the following three years had been nothing but horrible for him, and
others. He continued robbing small gas stations though only once every few months, some how not being caught after words, in this period he learned some criminal like skills. Such as lock picking, how to break into cars, and so on. When Markus reached the age of eighteen his parents kicked him out of the house. Markus having no where to go and only around enough money saved up from robbing the stations to buy an airplane ticket he bought a ticket to Lakeside figuring he would continue the same style of life he had been doing for the three years.