I thought robbing a gun shop with a baseball bat would be enough. That's how stupid I was. I told myself the element of surprise would carry me through, that the manager would panic, hand over the cash, and I'd be gone before anyone understood what had happened. When I walked in, I gripped the bat so hard my hands shook. I shouted something tough, something I'd practised, and he just looked at me. Not scared. Not shocked. Just annoyed. Then he raised a pistol and aimed it straight at my chest like it was the easiest thing in the world. That's when I realised the bat was nothing. And that he'd already noticed my 'gun' tucked into my waistband was fake. I bolted. The police never found me because that afternoon I took the train to my aunt in Glasgow.