Prologue
My mother used to have a saying, something she'd tell me every night when she tucked me into bed. "Always have faith," she'd whisper, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "The moment you stop believing is the moment you lose yourself."
I lost myself years ago.
Now I'm indistinguishable from the hundreds of other homeless people on the street, my hair long and knotted, my clothes worn and threadbare. I've been on my own for a long time, and I've learned how to take what I need - much to the anger of the shop owners and managers. Thus far, I've been able to avoid being caught by police and anyone seeking to make a few bucks off of a tip.
But no one can run forever. And I have a feeling that my luck is about to run out.
