Eviction notice in one hand, a shitty 2010 laptop in the other—what a sight I must've been. Kodi Grey, twenty, washed, broke, and officially out of excuses.
The screen was cracked. Fan screamed like a dying animal. But she still booted up.
And that's all I needed.
I made the decision that night—get back in. Back into the world that raised me before the real world spat me out. No more couch surfing, no more begging. If the world wasn't gonna give me a way out, I'd carve one myself.
Carding.
That's where it started. That cursed word. Sounded harmless enough if you didn't know better. But I knew better. And I did it anyway.
Fake credit cards, stolen credentials, ghost accounts. Buy high, sell low, reroute the payments, wash it, repeat. I'd done worse. I'd hacked into banks before puberty—getting into a few fat accounts and skimming five or ten grand barely raised my pulse. Picked the ones that wouldn't feel it. CEOs, real estate moguls, plastic surgeons. People who spend more on coffee than I had in my account.
And it worked.
Rent? Paid.Fridge? Full.Debt? Cleared, or at least silenced.I was eating again. Sleeping again. Smiling, even.I felt like a damn king.
Started dressing better. Got out of that grimy apartment and into a half-decent spot with real plumbing and a working lock. Started acting like I belonged somewhere. Like I wasn't just another lost kid pretending to have a plan.
Then the past came knocking.
My mom.
Two little brothers in tow—wide-eyed, jumpy, didn't even have jackets. No warning. No phone call. Just showed up like she never disappeared. Like the world hadn't chewed her up and spit her out too.
So I took them in.
What else was I supposed to do? Say no? Send them back to whatever shelter she crawled out of?
Nah. I did what men do. I stepped up. Started playing provider. Protector. Big brother and father figure rolled into one. And for the first time in a long time… I felt good. Like maybe I could rewrite this whole story.
But that's the thing about stolen peace.
It doesn't last.
Because behind every fake card number, every shadow account, every "unnoticed" $10K transfer…Someone's watching.Someone always is.
And just like that, the bubble started to shake.
And it all started—with one word.
Carding.