By Payton Posner, TIWP Student

~ Chapter One ~

Fog seeped from the darkness of distant alleys, dancing in flickering streetlights. The silence was interrupted by a sudden crash—something metal, maybe a trash can, echoing through the dimly lit street. Loneliness crawled up my spine like a shadow, unsettling in its quiet persistence, as if it were stalking me. My heart thudded against my ribs, the sound too loud in the stillness, and I forced myself to keep walking, slow and steady. My scuffed Doc Martins scrapping against the double yellow lines on the pavement beneath me. The cold bit at my skin, and I tugged the sleeves of his crewneck over my hands, trying to shield them from the viscous bite of the night air. 

The skirt I wore barley reached the middle of my thighs, and the fishnet tights underneath offered little warmth. My long black socks fell just below my knees. My clothes—worn and mismatched—felt like the last remnants of something long lost. The lines of houses around me were old, two and three story homes with sagging windowsills that still held wilting flowers, which met their demise as a result of the drought. It was quiet here, the world hidden behind walls, leaving this place behind. A ghost town on the outskirts, caught between territories.

I kept my pace as I continued forwards, my footsteps muffled by the thick fog, until the distant sound of motorcycle engines grew louder, like a storm rolling in. I froze for a moment. The gang was only drawing closer now. Their bikes roared as they cut through the streets, engines screaming, too loud to ignore. They’d be here soon. I darted into the nearest alley, my boots skidding on damp stone, and scrambled up a stack of rotting crates. I climbed through a shattered window, my knees brushing against jagged glass, avoiding the dangerously sharp edges. Once inside, I dropped to the floor, landing hard but silent. My back pressed against the cold, dusty wall, and I sucked in a shallow breath, listening.

The sound of the motorcycles began to fade, and I let my breath out slowly, blinking in the darkness of the abandoned house. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart still racing, but the immediate danger had passed. I shifted slightly, peering cautiously over the bottom of a filthy window, infested with cobwebs. Across the street, a boy was standing in the shadows of an alley, watching. His gaze caught mine for a second, or at least I thought it might have, but I couldn’t be sure that he could see through the grime coating the glass panes.

Then, like he had been waiting for the right moment, he stepped out of the alley. He was close to my age, maybe a little older. His hair was slightly overgrown and messy, sun-kissed brown strands falling in front of his eyes. He wore a black corduroy jacket lined with white fleece, and the sleeves were rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His jeans were baggy, decorated with smudges of dirt and littered with small rips. The cuffs were matted and frayed, hanging over his brown work boots. He moved with a quiet confidence, his steps sure, even as the streetlights flickered above him.

I watched as he approached an old, faded blue Volkswagen Bug, parked crookedly on the curb. The car looked as forgotten as everything else in this town, the windows were smeared with dirt and debris. He pulled a small metal pin from his jacket pocket and slid it into the lock on the car door. It clicked open after a few seconds. My breath hitched as he slid inside the car, the door shutting behind him with a small thud. The windows were so clouded with dust I couldn’t see a thing inside.

I stayed still, waiting. Then I saw it—a flicker of light from inside the car, quick and sharp, like a flame from a lighter. He was smoking, or maybe just trying to stay warm. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the car. Something about the way the boy inside moved, the way he’d opened that car door without a second thought, told me he had been here a while. I just hadn’t noticed until now.