Disclaimer: This is an alternate point of view to my friend’s story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vzyck7/female_28_tell_me_if_im_sick_or_if_this_is_really/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
I had reached the bottom. The construction company that I worked for had gone under and I was now unemployed. Instead of working hard to get a new job, I took to drinking, and now nobody would hire me. I’m not proud of it, but I had taken to stealing. Not violently, mind you, for what it’s worth. I would find upper-middle-class houses that were empty during the day, use my lock-picking skills to quietly break in, and help myself to some of the spoils of those more fortunate. Like I said, I’m not proud of it.
It’s what I was doing that fateful spring day. It was a Wednesday, the quietest day of the week. I had been sitting down the road from the house in question for several hours, and nobody had come or gone, so I decided to go in. The house was quiet, and felt empty, but I did a walkthrough just to make sure. The first floor was nice and tidy, they seemed to have some nice things so that was nice. When I got to the top of the stairs I thought I heard a bed creak from one of the bedrooms so I froze, but after several minutes decided it was nothing. I was a little freaked out still, and I almost turned around and went out, but decided there were too many nice things here to quit.