Written by lainie at 01:25 AM on January 19, 2008 in Rants, Daily Life, Home.

Well, I was just robbed a few hours ago, at 8pm. Was padlocking the gate when two guys on a motorcycle who had passed by earlier made a U-turn towards me.

The dude riding pillion ran down towards me (shortie too), and there was this moment where I knew what was going to happen - I didn't get a chance to go back in, he was just a few steps away and besides, I'm real slow at running.

He grabbed my slingbag in such a way that it slung around my waist like a hula hoop - I was too distracted by the yanking (which hurt my waist), and it was dark, so I took time to realise that the other arm he was brandishing vigorously actually held a pretty big knife. That was when I stopped struggling back. Not worth it.

Yelled to him, okay okay just stop yanking, I'll give you the bag. It was like he didn't hear me and finally I just held up my hands in resignation that

1) reason wasn't the key (in fact, feeling slightly stupid that I'd even tried), or
2) he didn't understand English, and
3) I didn't want to provoke him into gutting me
4) I couldn't run off with the bag handle around me like that anyway.

There's a lot of insecurity in having to wait and let an armed dude with really bad aim slash the bag off - as he was yanking at the strap around my waist and missing the handle with his knife a few times. I was already suspecting drugs and/or low IQ at this point.

Not that I'm one to judge, but the incompetence was just....I mean, in the midst of it all, even I noticed it. How is this dude not t in jail? It didn't take that long at any rate, his knife slashing eventually cut the strap.
 
My neighbour Mr Yip, who was taking out the trash, saw what was happening and yelled at the men - the guy ran with my bag, and they rode off together. I was relieved I didn't end up with an ugly hilt sticking out of me somewhere.

The moment he started running off with my bag I was already yelling "Snatch thief, snatch thief" - while peering out into the dark of my housing area and realising that it probably wasn't doing any bloody good anyway. I mean, the last time it'd taken me two minutes of shouting at my neighbour in his room upstairs (Har? Har? What? What? What you want? Har?) before he could figure out I wanted back the cat bowl left in his house a few nights back. You can practically smell the sedentary lifestyles in the night.

 
So instead, I just took a good glance at their license plate, even then thinking it'd probably lead nowhere.

I finally noticed then the throb in the back of my right hand. I looked at it, saw lots of blood and the inside bits of flesh. My first thought was SHIT, MY SKETCHING HAND!!?? I tried flexing and my fingers felt really weak, which frightened me (Kat once told me a scary story of someone she knew who couldn't draw as before after a hand injury, and I remember thinking I never want to lose that kinda muscle memory in my hand and have to relearn it with my left).

I wasn't sure if I had antiseptic in my house, and didn't think it would be a good idea to be alone when the snatch thieves went through my bag and discovered they'd just wasted a lot of effort (seriously, I'm not worth the time robbing), so I asked Mr Yip if I could get some first aid stuff from his house.

His wife put four plasters on my hands, which lasted about a minute before my blood soaked through them and they kinda...fell off.

Then they bandaged me strangely in gauze in such a way that I could basically move my wrist a lil bit, and nothing else. That, was actually kinda funny.

Called the police, and a man who didn't speak anything but English and was extremely unfuckinghelpful answered the phone. I told him the license plate number of the snatch thieves, and he asked me what I wanted him to do.

Bit back a lot of smart alecky remarks and told him to send out a patrol car in case the robbers were still around (because I didn't have money in the bag, and they'll still be looking). I was told to make a police report. Hung up with the feeling fuck all was gonna be done, pissed that they knew robberies were a usual occurence but that SINCE i've moved in here, I've NEVER seen a patrol car around. EVER.

Anyone up there wants to send some of the police on the political beat over to actually police the streets? And yknow, crime spots? Stupid government.

Sent my housemates a text each telling them that I was robbed outside the house, be careful. Next thing I knew, Tate called offering to bring me to the doctor - which is an option I'd not considered.

Thank goodness my housemates are nice and have common sense, to make up for the lack of mine. I'd just been thinking of antiseptic and ugly scars. And mourning the loss of my sketchbook - thinking about that makes my heart sink, honestly. 

When Tate hung up I noticed talking about the robbery made my hands shake more - I was not conscious of shock, but my body was giving out plenty of signs that I was shaken .

The Yips were really nice, talking to me for a while as I waited for my housemate (so I didn't have time to think about how exactly I'd like to chicken out of visiting the doctor). They told me about other snatch thief incidents, and the lack of security there. Apparently, it's been happening for years and the police have not succeeded in securing the area (like I said, never seen a patrol car here, I'm not sure if "succeeded" is the word so much as "attempted".

Tate and Ding both came over soon and brought me to a nearby clinic Tate's familiar wtih. Doctor told me I'd need stitches, which was precisely what I'd dreaded - not the stitches, but the accompanying needles. I am so incredibly chickenshit and nancypants about injections.

Tattoos = Love.
Injections = meh. meh. mehhhhh.

Doctor explained to me that no, I had not lost a lot of skin, it was just so swollen (red and pinkish stuff sticking up like a lil volcano) that the gash looked like I was missing skin. Great.

I got my injections in my hand, and four stitches between a doctor and an inexperienced nurse who wasn't sure where everything went -_-". Doc said it was cut in a strange way - like a jagged crescent moon-  so the stitches would be tricky. I watched the stitching being done, which was actually really interesting. If icky. I'm grateful I never took up that med scholarship offer.

Asked doc if anything important was injured - I didn't think so, but I thought I'd better make sure .

After that, had another injection for tetanus. :/ I could hear Ding and Tate continuously talking about whatever through the clinic walls the entire time.

Mr Yip and the doctor both told me that usually the snatchthief victims in the area get a few extra slashes - the doc had just treated another snatch thief victim the other day with gashes on the arm, the robbers apparently usually do this to induce shock, so you don't take any immediate action. Was told again I was lucky someone had been there to frighten off the men before anything worse happened.

My items? A zip bag, my duct tape wallet, a Neil Gaiman book I had borrowed from Rachel, a homemade pencil case Kate gave me years ago, my sketchbook containing work from the two projects I'd shown Lola. Money? None.

Basically, I lost objects with sentimental value, and hours of sketches. It's the part where I lost my pencil case, and the sketchbook, that really gets to me. I resent that I've put off scanning quite a few of the drawings because they "weren't done yet".

I'd casually asked Mr Yip if he knew where they usually dumped the bags - because I'm seriously considering going to search for my sketchbooks. Unfortunately, it's night now, and I won't have time till Sunday. FUCK.

There's a lil party going on in my house, downstairs, but I don't really feel like participating. I'd just gotten robbed, my hand hurts, my body's sore, and I feel tired. Have to be up early tomorrow and can't drink anyway, cause of the meds. I'm sensitive to a lot of chems.

I want to draw (aww, I just realised my favourite mechanical pencil is gone), but ah. I won't be drawing for days.

Now my right hand is starting to throb again through the painkillers, and my left arm is too numb from the injection to use (anyone has any idea how long this sensation will last?).

At least I can still type.

Gazel's wedding tomorrow. I'm not very sure, but I think I'm the emcee. Ah well, what's done is done. Bring it on!

I'm so gonna get nagged by the older folks when they hear about the snatch thieves tomorrow, huh? Sigh.