The sun was blazing hot. That's one thing I didn't miss about the outside. I used my hand to shield my eyes as I descended the steps of hell. Or, as it's typically called, St. James Mental Institute. I looked around for my dad's black Toyota, and I found it at the end of the parking lot. “You could have at least parked closer to the building, ugh,” I grumbled as I lugged my duffel bag towards the car. It's been a tough 12 weeks, and I couldn't wait to eat a good burger. But first, I have to face my folks. 

“Hi, dad.” I greeted him as I opened up the passenger door and slipped in. “How are you, son? You could use a haircut,” he says, trying to get the awkwardness out the window. I don't reply and instead sulk deeper into my seat. He eventually starts the car and peels out of the lot. The drive home is quiet, save for the old tunes of Classic FM.

Fast forward a few days, and the news of my return home eventually got around. Everyone except my family thinks I was in Japan on a manga drawing internship. The lie was my idea since it's known I was really into drawing comics and anime. Noah and Maddison were in the living room talking to my parents about something. “- and I don't think it's a good idea for him to be out of the house so soon.” I heard my mom say. 

“But today's the last day of the carnival, Mrs Fadeiro. We promise to bring him back in one piece,” Maddison argued. I've always had a little crush on her. 

“Sonny boy, heyy!” Noah called out to me as I came into view. “What do you say? Wanna come to the carnival with us?” 

I look at my parents’ worried looks, and with a smirk, I answer, “Yeah, sure, why not? Lemme go change real quick.” 

The carnival was loud and chaotic. I have never seen so many people gathered in one spot and so many bright lights. I tried to keep up with Noah and Maddison as they stopped at stall after stall. 

I caught up to them at a knick-knacks stand with the ugliest toys. Maddison was trying to choose from the ugly selections, and as I stared at the toys lined up, I started getting the urge again. I gulped and took deep breaths. 

The boring therapist said breathing and staying calm would help me reason. But it wasn't working, and my palms soon became sweaty. I looked at my friends to see if they noticed me fidgeting, but they were busy arguing over which toy to pick. The vendor was thumbing through notes in his hand. 

“Maybe just this one time, just to get it out of my system,” I thought. I took one last glance around and swiped a knick-knack. One swift movement and it was safely in my bag. I felt a huge rush and smiled to myself. It's not like I couldn't afford it; they were super cheap, but I can't help myself. 

The rest of the night went on like that, and when I emptied my bag on my bed, I was ashamed of myself. There were a couple of apples, a mini fan, the knick-knack, a jar of mayonnaise, a kid's mask, and a red clown wig. 

“Are all these what you bought at the carnival?” I spun around to see my mom standing at my bedroom door. I didn't know when the tears started falling, and I shook my head slowly. She walked over and wrapped me in her arms. “I'll call Dr. Shola in the morning,” she said while rubbing my back. I just cried in her chest as I realized I may never be cured of my kleptomania. 

-drew