[ WP ] You are a professional pickpocket . You 've just picked someones pocket only to discover that the thing you have stolen is truly horrifying .

I hurried through the crowd, weaving my path away from the man whose pocket had just found its contents transferred to my possession. I know it sounds like a fancy way to say pickpocket, but I do n't like to think of what I do as such a juvenile thing. It's really more of a Robin Hood type thing. Find a white-collar type, procure the content of his pocket, phone, wallet, and all, and then look over the contents once I'm safe. After that I may donate the cash, if any to Charity. And then if there are any credit cards, I'll run them online as donations to the American Red Cross. I like to think that many see the charge and decide to just let it go. 
 
 If there are IDs, I'll always make sure to drop them in non-suspicious places, such as outside of restaurants with no cameras. I'm not trying to ruin anyone's life. I'm just doing my part to restore balance when the craving to steal gets to be too much. 
 
 I took my keys out as I approached my apartment building, did a quick scan of the area to make sure I was n't being followed, and enter my building. As soon as I ran up the stairs and was in my apartment, I emptied the small bag from my pocket that I had so skillfully procured. I stared down at the contents, but my mind was n't comprehending what I was seeing. I blinked and looked away, my lungs fluttering in quick, shallow breaths. I could n't comprehend what had been in that man's pocket- in MY pocket! 
 
 I walked to the kitchen, washed my hands, and went to the liquor cabinet. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. My hands felt cold and numb. I struggled to force myself to take even, deep breaths. `` In my nose, out my mouth,'' I inwardly chanted, just like my father would tell me when I was young. I put ice in the tumbler and poured the whiskey. I washed my hands again and threw the tumbler back, the whiskey burning its way down my throat. 
 
 As the last of the whiskey had gone my throat I put the tumbler down on the counter, and I turned back around to face the horror on my kitchen table. 
 
 Human hair had been woven together, like many braids that were all interwoven. They formed a square shape that folded in over itself, only it was shaped like a wallet. There were spackles of blood all over the hair, staining it. 
 
 And then there were the bows. Like the tiny butterfly plastic clips that little girls wore. The acrid taste of bile rose up my throat, and I fought the urge to gag. The hair was attached to skin. This was a little girl's scalp, fashioned into a wallet. I forced myself to put on the big, rubber gloves under the skin and slowly, carefully, picked up the `` wallet'' and flipped it open with a thumb. 
 
 There was no stopping the wretching this time. I dropped the wallet, and vomited into the sink, barely making it in time. 
 
 I puked again, and I knew I had to call the cops. I would be turning myself in for pickpocketing, but somehow, I think they would be able to over look it. I looked back at the open wallet, the skin that ran over the inside had been dried and restitched, but the features of a little girl's face, the skin tanned and dried, was unmistakable. 
 
 And the ID stuffed in.... In what had been the girl's mouth, all drawn tight with black cord. It belonged to a teacher. My 1st grade teacher. And the girl.... My breathing was too fast. I reached for the phone, and the world went black. 
 
 EDIT: grammar and spelling. Also, CCW
