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For the first time in weeks, it was raining. No, not the teasing drizzle that so often splattered the city in haphazard little droplets, but a full- fledged downpour; the kind that came from nowhere, catching people completely off guard. The girl who ran through the middle of the street was no exception, beyond all hope of staying even partially dry. Her clothes were plastered to her cold skin, and strands of dark hair that had escaped the confines of a braid now straggled, dripping, around her face.
She was lost, and that was in itself a mixed blessing- if she had no idea of where she was headed, chances were, neither did her pursuers. She snuck a glance over her shoulder as she stumbled along. In the dark- and the rain- she could barely see the buildings she knew to be a few feet away from her, let alone anyone that might be following. Good. It meant that they couldn't see her, either.
The girl stopped running. Her heart pounded, throbbing and echoing in her ears, until a sudden wave of dizziness sent her reeling into the rough mass of a brick wall. Her aching leg muscles finally gave out, and she folded into a shivering heap at the base of the wall, letting out a choked sob. Tears coursed down her dirt-streaked face, mingling with rain and blood. The latter ran in diluted red rivulets that laced across her bare forearms, trickled off of her fingertips, and soaked her shoddy second-hand clothing. A long but shallow gouge ran unevenly along the outside of her right arm from wrist to elbow- a careless mistake that would leave a scar as its souvenir. Of course, it could always be worse- she could be dead. The thought didn't console her.
A sudden scuffling noise sent her into a panic. She flattened against the wall with wide eyes, searching in vain for the responsible party, until something skittered over her feet, muttering and growling to itself. A wet cat.
The girl stood shakily, scrubbing at her eyes, unaware (or else uncaring) of the blood she smeared across her cheekbones and forehead in the process. She had to find somewhere to go, before someone did find her there, someone whose intentions were considerably worse than those of the stray cat. Locating the nearest street sign, she was only inches away from it before she could just barely make it out- Duane St.
Well, it seemed as likely a place as any to find somewhere to sleep, while a few hours still remained before dawn. She set off around the corner, squinting through the heavy sheets of rain, and it wasn't long before she spotted a fire escape tucked safely away beneath a slightly slanting roof. Whether it was made that way, or if it had merely sagged with age, was impossible to tell, but she quite honestly didn't care. Cautiously, she edged alongside the building until she was standing a foot away from the wrought-iron ladder that suspended from the platform. She eyed it, calculating the height of it, the distance, the slickness of stray raindrops- and then she leapt, catching hold of the bars. Soundlessly, she eased herself up on the fire escape- and froze.
Her own reflection stared back at her in alarm. She blinked dazedly at the distorted image. First the cat, and now this? She asked herself. I'm losing my touch. She leaned towards the windowpane, trying to get a better look inside.
Through the glass, she caught a glimpse of an astonishingly peaceful sight. Bunks lined the walls of the modest room, each one occupied by a sleeping tenant- boys, she guessed, judging by the unkempt appearance of the place. Abruptly, in a bunk too close to the window for the girl's comfort, one of them stirred in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath. She jumped. The boy rolled over, turning his back to her, and eased back into a peaceful sleep. Reminded of how tired she really was, the girl turned away and settled down for the remainder of the night.
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For the first time in weeks, it was raining. No, not the teasing drizzle that so often splattered the city in haphazard little droplets, but a full- fledged downpour; the kind that came from nowhere, catching people completely off guard. The girl who ran through the middle of the street was no exception, beyond all hope of staying even partially dry. Her clothes were plastered to her cold skin, and strands of dark hair that had escaped the confines of a braid now straggled, dripping, around her face.
She was lost, and that was in itself a mixed blessing- if she had no idea of where she was headed, chances were, neither did her pursuers. She snuck a glance over her shoulder as she stumbled along. In the dark- and the rain- she could barely see the buildings she knew to be a few feet away from her, let alone anyone that might be following. Good. It meant that they couldn't see her, either.
The girl stopped running. Her heart pounded, throbbing and echoing in her ears, until a sudden wave of dizziness sent her reeling into the rough mass of a brick wall. Her aching leg muscles finally gave out, and she folded into a shivering heap at the base of the wall, letting out a choked sob. Tears coursed down her dirt-streaked face, mingling with rain and blood. The latter ran in diluted red rivulets that laced across her bare forearms, trickled off of her fingertips, and soaked her shoddy second-hand clothing. A long but shallow gouge ran unevenly along the outside of her right arm from wrist to elbow- a careless mistake that would leave a scar as its souvenir. Of course, it could always be worse- she could be dead. The thought didn't console her.
A sudden scuffling noise sent her into a panic. She flattened against the wall with wide eyes, searching in vain for the responsible party, until something skittered over her feet, muttering and growling to itself. A wet cat.
The girl stood shakily, scrubbing at her eyes, unaware (or else uncaring) of the blood she smeared across her cheekbones and forehead in the process. She had to find somewhere to go, before someone did find her there, someone whose intentions were considerably worse than those of the stray cat. Locating the nearest street sign, she was only inches away from it before she could just barely make it out- Duane St.
Well, it seemed as likely a place as any to find somewhere to sleep, while a few hours still remained before dawn. She set off around the corner, squinting through the heavy sheets of rain, and it wasn't long before she spotted a fire escape tucked safely away beneath a slightly slanting roof. Whether it was made that way, or if it had merely sagged with age, was impossible to tell, but she quite honestly didn't care. Cautiously, she edged alongside the building until she was standing a foot away from the wrought-iron ladder that suspended from the platform. She eyed it, calculating the height of it, the distance, the slickness of stray raindrops- and then she leapt, catching hold of the bars. Soundlessly, she eased herself up on the fire escape- and froze.
Her own reflection stared back at her in alarm. She blinked dazedly at the distorted image. First the cat, and now this? She asked herself. I'm losing my touch. She leaned towards the windowpane, trying to get a better look inside.
Through the glass, she caught a glimpse of an astonishingly peaceful sight. Bunks lined the walls of the modest room, each one occupied by a sleeping tenant- boys, she guessed, judging by the unkempt appearance of the place. Abruptly, in a bunk too close to the window for the girl's comfort, one of them stirred in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath. She jumped. The boy rolled over, turning his back to her, and eased back into a peaceful sleep. Reminded of how tired she really was, the girl turned away and settled down for the remainder of the night.
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