The Crime
Kizuri stood outside of the Bank of Mbuto, a small bank on the outreaches of the city. Around her people brushed past, on their way to work, home, wherever. She stood, her feet rooted to the sidewalk, staring at the bank. How she longed to be one of those people going about their business with no worries. Well, not no worries...just none like hers. She took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. Okay, just remind yourself why you're doing this, she thought. Mom and Kidogo needed money. It was her job to support them. She nodded to herself, and took one step forward, then another, then another. Kizuri flicked her hair out of her face and walked towards the teller, halting at the back of a short line. Ironically, she had to wait in line to rob a bank. She'd laugh, but she was terrified.
Minutes ticked by at a microscopic pace as she waited nervously behind an old man taking his sweet time. She quickly took in a wooden desk, a pair of wooden chairs with faded green cushions, a slate gray tile floor with flecks of white, faded blue walls, a relatively new teller box, and a few standing employees. She eyed the teller...a man in his mid-forties, somewhat tired looking. As the man in front of her finished, Kizuri stepped up to the teller, the blood draining from her face.
"May I help you ma'am?"
"Yes, I'd like to make a withdrawal," Kizuri said, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked behind her quickly. No one else had gotten in line. Part of Kizuri's stomach unknotted at this knowledge.
"What's the last name?"
"Mwaasi."
A pause as the man tapped the keys on his keyboard. A frown creased his forehead. "I'm afraid there's no account under the name of Mwaasi."
Kizuri slipped a small blaster from her coat pocket and slid it on the counter, her finger tight around the trigger, ready to pull. "Then let's make one," she said smoothly, masking her anxiety. Immediately the teller froze, turning white.
"Look at me, LOOK at me," Kizuri whispered forcefully, staring the man in the eyes. The teller met her gaze, his breath coming quicker now. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. Now, I want you to withdraw one million tolls from any account you want and transfer it to this account." She slipped a business card across the counter with her other hand, still staring him the face. "Don't touch that button, I know what it's for," she said, eyeing the man's hand reaching under the counter. "Just do this, and quickly please."
To Kizuri's relief, the man did exactly what he said. In a matter of minutes, he looked up at her, just about as sweaty as she had been outside. "It's done," he croaked. Kizuri nodded.
"Erase any records of it off your hard drive," she ordered. The man visibly wilted, and tapped a few times on the keyboard.
"Done," he whispered. "Please...leave. I've given you what you ask."
Kizuri felt a pang in her heart. "I'm sorry for any problems I've caused you. Thank you," she said, and quickly slipped the gun back in her pocket. She walked away from the teller box, expecting a security guard to jump her at any moment. But she kept walking, one foot in front of the other and before she knew it, she was on the street, with no one chasing her. People were brushing by, just as they had been before. Minding their own, they didn't see her! She threw back her head and laughed, loudly, so that everyone could hear her relief. She then walked back to her house, a smile on her face that outshone everything else.
One day later she had her family safely away and taken care of.
Two days later she was arrested.
