I was looking for a breath of life,
A little touch of heavenly light,
But all the choirs in my head sang "no".
To get a dream of life again,
A little vision of the start and the end,
But all the choirs in my head sang "no".
—Florence + The Machine, "Breath of Life"
A shadow passed over the alley, gone in the blink of an eye. There was barely a sound, except for a soft whisper that could have been caused by a small breeze. But the next alley over—there it was again. And again.
Footsteps, light and steady, raced across the roofs, briefly taking flight as they leapt over the gaps between the rundown brick buildings.
The neighborhood was silent, because most people were tucked away in their beds. Most, not all.
There were only two kinds of people out this late at night—the thieves and the scum.
There was a difference between the two, mind you. Thieves had a special code that they abided by, an understood set of rules. Well, two rules, actually.
Rule number one—never do something without style. In fact, the entire act of stealing was all about style and class. It didn't matter how big the steal was. What really mattered was how you did it.
Rule number two—never get cocky and never get selfish. Okay, that statement wasn't entirely accurate since most times you were stealing for yourself, so you already had to be selfish. Here, how about this: Don't get selfisher. When you're stealing, you need to know when to stop, or risk getting caught.
Anyone who didn't follow those rules were considered scum.
And this thief, who was jumping rooftops, followed those rules as if their life depended on it.
And this thief, known only as Selena, had already made a name for herself at the young age of fifteen.
She'd been on her own for two years now, and in that time she managed to pick up impressive hacking skills and embraced the lifestyle of a thief . . . and earned a small reputation as a secret vigilante.
When she had run away from her disaster of a home, she had immediately sought out to look for a job. She'd stayed in an abandoned house in case her abusive father came looking for her—he never did.
Because she'd been pulled out of school a long time ago, there was no one to miss her but her friends, but even they didn't think much of it when she suddenly stopped coming to their bowling nights. And because of this, there wasn't anyone who cared.
She found a job helping out an elderly lady called Aunt Poppy with things such as groceries and housekeeping. The lady paid well enough, and within a few weeks she had enough money for bus fare and provisions.
Even though she hated it, it was easy to lie to the old woman about her parents and her situation, and it was just as easy to lie about why she had to leave. Thankfully the lady didn't question too much and gave her a generous parting payment.
Selena took a bus that dropped her off several towns over, where she found a job as an apprentice to a computer technician by day, genius hacker by night. She stayed there for close to a year and a half, and it was best experience of her life.
His name was Ryan Smith and he gladly took on Selena as an apprentice. He saw the natural talent in her—the intelligence—for computer coding and hacking. He taught her everything he knew in less than a year because she was an incredible student, absorbing the information as if it was water and she was dying of thirst in the desert.
Even though she'd been taught as much as possible from Ryan, she continued to stay on as his employee, helping people with their computers and even enjoying the freedom of being able to go to the movies with some kids from the neighborhood.
She wished she could've stayed longer, but she began to feel like something was missing. She wanted . . . she wanted to be helping people, and not in the way she had been. She wanted to help where it really mattered.
It was hard saying goodbye to the mentor that had become like family to her, but she left with the assurance that she was welcome back any time.
Ryan had given her a decent salary while she'd worked with him, and she had enough money to take her all the way to a small suburb in Chicago, where she's been ever since.
Ryan also gave her several computers to work on, and although they were a pain to travel with, she knew she couldn't leave them behind. Not just because they would come in handy, but because they were a gift, from a person with good intentions.
She found a vacant apartment building that hadn't been touched by gangs yet and housed up there. She'd set up her computers, tapping into the electrical lines just enough to power them and the microwave.
She didn't try to get another job, practicing the skills of a pickpocket instead, and then small-time thefts, and eventually valuable items—selling them on the black market.
At night, she roamed the neighborhood, running across rooftops and taking down dirt bags, sometimes personally and sometimes through a phone call to the police.
And tonight was no different.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that swung back and forth as she ran, her boot-clad feet silent on the pavement. Her breaths came in controlled gasps, white clouds of moisture expelled between her lips.
She leapt onto the edge of the roof and pushed off with all her might, soaring through the chilly night air. She tucked in her body and landed with a roll onto the other roof, finishing in a crouch.
"Stop it!"
Selena froze.
"Let me go!"
The voice was faint, belonging to a distraught woman. The teen could hear the jeers and laughter of men even from where she was, six stories up. Cautious, she moved to one side of the building and peered over the edge.
In the alley below she could see a young woman being tossed around between two brutes. "Please, just let me go," she begged, tears evident in her voice.
"Not a chance, sweetheart," one of the men said, voice slightly slurred.
Selena swung her legs over the edge and jumped onto the fire escape that was below, her landing soft. She descended the rest of the metal stairway, almost dancing as she dropped between levels, nothing more than a shadow.
The same man that had spoken earlier now had the woman pressed against the wall, his hands placed on either side of her head. The other man stood back, under the fire escape.
Selena's lips curled in disgust and she crept forward, holding her breath. She bit her bottom lip in concentration . . . then pounced.
She landed on the onlooker, both going down. The man collapsed hard on the pavement with a yell, but Selena landed lightly and rolled to her feet.
"Hey!" the other guy (Selena decided to call him Sleaze, because he was a sleaze bag) yelled, forgetting about the woman and turning to face the intruder. "Who're you?" he growled. The young woman behind him took off after sparing Selena a grateful glance, her heels echoing in the alley.
Selena flipped her ponytail off her shoulder, her arms crossed casually. "Just a concerned citizen."
"'Concerned citizen, my foot," the second man groaned, getting up from the ground.
"A pretty little lady like you doesn't belong here," Sleaze said with a grotesque smile as he slowly approached her from the side, trying to cut off her escape.
"Oh, you know," Selena said with a shrug, inspecting her nails. "I thought I'd just . . . "—she smiled wickedly at the second man—"drop in."
"How kind of you."
Selena stiffened at the new voice, her eyes widening. Two other men appeared out of the shadows of a deep-set archway in one of the brick walls.
She was surrounded before she knew it. Four muscle-bound dudes with no sympathy for fifteen-year-old girls spelled out certain disaster for her. She could take two guys at once, but four? Forget it.
Sleaze pulled out a knife and waved it around. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said.
Selena looked around and saw the other three pounding hands together or cracking their knuckles in anticipation. It was so cliché that she would've laughed if it weren't for the fact that she was about to become nonexistent.
Heart pounding, she opened her mouth to say something that would most likely result in her face getting pounded into the pavement, but someone else beat her to it.
"It's not nice to pick on little girls."
Everyone turned at the sound of the voice to see a stranger standing in the shadows underneath a broken lamppost at the end of the alley.
Indignant, Selena snapped, "Who are you calling a little girl?"
The new comer ignored her and walked forward, addressing the men again. "I thought your mothers taught you better than that. Oh, wait most of you probably kicked her out of her own house." He finally stepped into the ring of light, smirking. "Am I right?"
The men around Selena visibly relaxed. "He's just a kid," one of them hissed to the others.
Sleaze snorted. "I didn't even have a mother, boy." He grinned, twirling the knife in his hand.
The stranger, a boy of about seventeen years of age, shrugged. "That's unfortunate. But then again . . . neither did I."
The atmosphere shifted so fast that Selena almost believed her ears popped. She watched as the pleasant expression drained away from the boy's face, his eyes growing hard and cold.
The men sensed the heartlessness in the teen before them and they shifted nervously, looking to Sleaze for orders.
The man narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the knife. "Get him." He rushed forward, knife stretched out, but the boy grabbed the man's wrist before the knife was thrust into his chest and deflected it to the side, spinning around Sleaze and kicking him in the middle of the back.
He was grabbed from behind, arms hooking around his own and pinning them back. The man holding him was the guy Selena had gotten the drop on . . . literally. Another man rushed at the teen from the front, but the boy lifted his legs and kicked the man square in the chest, sending all of them reeling away from each other.
Bump-on-the-Head and Dark-and-Handsome-Stranger fell against one of the walls of the alley, Bumpy grunting on impact and loosening his grip. The teen pulled one of his arms away only to slam it into Bumpy's diaphragm.
Selena was frozen in place, watching, but her trance was broken when the fourth man grabbed her arm, his other hand curled into a fist and reared back. Selena's instincts kicked in and she planted the heel of her sneaker without mercy on his . . . sensitive area. It wasn't the flashiest move, but the results were instantaneous. Now free, she turned away from the groaning man to see Thing 2 getting up from his place on the ground, where he'd fallen after the boy kicked him.
Sleaze had joined Bumpy and they were fighting with the older teen, leaving Thing 1 and Thing 2 all to herself.
"Hey, stupid!" Selena called to Thing 2. Like expected, he turned to face her. She raised a fist and rushed at him, her feet gliding over the ground. He braced himself, feet spread apart, just like she had hoped he would.
When she was only a couple of paces away, she dropped to the ground and slid between his legs. As she slipped by, she lashed out and latched onto one of his ankles, yanking his leg out from under him. He crashed onto the pavement, a loud crack splitting the air when his nose smacked the ground.
Selena grinned, but it disappeared as she yelped in pain when her ponytail was pulled hard from behind, her head tipping back. Thing 1 dragged her by her hair, and her feet scrambled to lessen the strain on her skull, her face twisted into a grimace.
She reached up and grabbed his wrist with both hands, tears stinging her eyes. She got her feet under herself long enough to spin under his arm, twisting it with her. His arm snapped and he yelled, cursing in pain. Selena stood up only to duck away from the fist he swung at her face, his broken arm cradled to his chest.
Thing 2 joined his buddy, blood staining the lower half of his face. Together, they drove Selena back, who was slowly beginning to tire from dodging their coordinated attacks. She bumped against something and glanced over her shoulder to find that she and the boy were back-to-back, surrounded by the four brutes.
Sleaze and Bumpy looked about as good as Thing 1 and Thing 2. Sleaze's shoulder was dislocated and Bumpy looked like he'd gotten bonked on his head more than was necessary. Poor guy.
The boy looked over his shoulder at her, and for a split second, their eyes met and time slowed. Something clicked in each of them and they nodded at each other. Time resumed and everyone moved at once. The four rushed in at the same time and the two teens danced around each other, a flurry of limbs and twirling bodies.
Selena had always worked alone. She didn't think she could trust anyone as much as she trusted herself—her heart didn't have the room for anyone else.
Whenever she felt the rush she got from sneaking around in buildings or jumping between rooftops, she imagined it was the same exhilaration she'd get if she could fly like a bird. If she could be any bird, she'd choose to be a great blue heron—they built nests in little communities, but they flew alone, solitary and majestic. She'd picture the world below her, the sky above her, and everything else in between—all hers. She was alone, the wind rushing between her feathers . . .
But when she looked to the side, there was a raven flying beside her, black as the night, silent as death. A feeling overcame her, setting her blood on fire. Something linked them to each other, something in common: silence. They were ghosts in the world in which they lived. They understood each other's need to disappear.
They stood with shoulders touching, chests heaving, facing opposite ends of the alley, with the limp forms of four men lying around their feet.
"Who are you?" Selena breathed, glancing over at the boy. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, her hands shaking with energy.
He met her eyes, the hard look disappearing from his face. "Just a concerned citizen," he said, flashing a winning smile, and darn it if her heart didn't skip a beat.
Selena laughed, lifting her eyes to the sky. The boy started to walk down the alley and she turned to follow, lagging behind a few steps. "I've never seen you around before," she said, looking down as she carefully stepped over the unconscious form of Bumpy.
"Well, that's because I'm n—"
When the boy broke off, Selena lifted her gaze to see that he had stopped several feet away to face her, his face frozen in horror.
"Wh—" she began to ask, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Watch out!" he yelled, lunging forward.
Selena gasped and turned, coming face-to-face with Sleaze, just as the knife ripped into her, burying up to its hilt.
Selena's eyes widened in shock, one hand hovering around the blade. Her lips parted, but nothing came out—not sound, not air. She felt strangely detached with unbelief, the knife sticking out of her gut, Sleaze grinning wickedly down at her.
"No!"
She heard the boy scream and could only watch as he shoved Sleaze away from her, the older teen taking out one of Sleaze's knees, causing his legs to buckle. Sleaze yelled when he landed on his shattered kneecap, but it was cut off when the boy grabbed the man's head and slammed it into his knee, breaking Sleaze's nose.
Sleaze tried to throw a punch through his tears, but the boy caught his fist and bent it the wrong way, fracturing his wrist.
"What are you?" the man hissed, barely conscious through the pain.
The boy's face was expressionless, but his eyes were cold. There was no light in them, no warmth, no sympathy . . . no mercy.
"I'm the last face you'll ever see," the boy spat. He lashed out his hands and twisted, snapping the man's neck before he could even blink.
Selena jerked away then, gasping and stumbling back, her shaking hands gripping the hilt of the knife. The pain was unbearable and she let out an agonized cry. There was movement at the edge of her vision, the boy rushing to her, but she was already falling . . . falling . . . falling . . .
Arms caught her before she collapsed to the ground, one of her hands slipping away and bouncing against the pavement. Her eyes stared up at the night sky that was visible between the two buildings, but she couldn't see any stars. It was just a black canvas, a vast expanse of nothingness.
The boy leaned over her, but she didn't see him. His mouth moved, but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear was silence and the tiny exhales that escaped between her parted lips, little puffs of mist billowing out into the air.
Her lips curled upwards at the corners in a small smile. Fluffy flakes of snow had begun to fall gently, landing on her skin like little kisses before they melted. Soon, her eyelashes were decorated with the white crystals, and the sky was filled with snow that drifted down out of the dark in lazy dances. The sight was lulling her to sleep, her eyes half-lidded.
She almost didn't feel the pain, but it was still there, sparking up every nerve of her being, but she found she couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was as if her body and soul had separated, leaving her numb and blank.
A hand cupped her cheek, warm and gentle. Her eyes slid over until she was gazing up at the boy's face. He was trying to speak to her, but she still couldn't hear him.
Arms hefted her up, cradling her to a solid chest, and that was the last thing she knew before her eyelids fluttered closed and her consciousness fell away.
Her eyes snapped open.
Pain.
Light.
Sound.
Everything hurt.
She felt sick.
Voices?
What were they saying?
Blood rushed in her ears.
Wait—screaming? Was someone screaming?
She was moving, bounced up and dow—
No, now she was lying on her back.
The world spun when she opened her eyes, a light blaring down at her from above. Shadows swirled at the edges of her vision, vaguely taking shape before disappearing. Everything was blurry and confusing and she just wanted the pain to go away.
Her stomach was in agony, and something kept prodding and poking at it, bringing tears to her eyes. She tried to tell whatever it was to stop, but her voice wouldn't work. She wanted to scream but she couldn't, not through the sobs that she could barely choke out.
It hurt so bad, she couldn't breathe, sh-she couldn't, couldn't . . .
And then—
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing . . .
N . . . nothing.
Absolutely . . .
Nothing.
She'd had nothing to call her own her entire life. No home, no toys, no family.
Tired . . . So tired.
That's right. She was so tired of everything, of being alone, of being forced to grow up too fast. She could preach about how much she loved independence, but she was only fifteen. She should've been hanging out with her friends, having sleepovers and going shopping and suffering through high school together. Instead, she lived in abandoned buildings, fending for herself, struggling every day just to make it to the end of the week.
And for what?
What was the point?
She had chosen this life, but why? Why couldn't she just get help, get placed into a better home?
Because she was tired of being disappointed. Every time she moved in with a new family, there was always that little hope she'd finally found her place. And every time she was always let down.
She was just sick of it all. She knew that if she let go right then and there, it would be over in seconds. If she gave up . . . that was it. Game over.
But . . .
She didn't.
Because she was stronger than that. As much as she hated it, she was too strong and too proud to just give up. But she didn't know how to win, either.
Wake up.
A stabbing pain split her skull. The voice was feminine, familiar.
Her body was heavy, her limbs weighed down, but something was changing inside of her. It was as if her body started to buzz with awareness, her heart beginning to thud a little stronger in her chest.
Wake up.
A steady hammering started up in her head, just behind her temple.
Mom? she asked, confused.
No . . . not her mom. Her . . .
The throbbing grew stronger.
Her mom left when she was two. And her dad . . . He disappeared when she was four. Not even the cops knew where he went.
Wake up.
She approached a wall of black glass, her bare feet padding across a smooth floor, as dark as ebony.
The pain wasn't just in her head anymore. It pulsed throughout her entire body, from a single point in her stomach.
Wake up.
She squinted at the glass, at a figure materializing as she crept closer. It was a girl, barely visible, wearing a white dress that fell to her knees, her hair cascading over her shoulders.
She was too far away to see the girl's face clearly.
Wake up.
She placed a hand against her stomach when it seized uncomfortably, and it came away wet. She looked down she see her palm covered with blood. Then she noticed with a gasp that she was wearing the same dress as the girl in the glass, a red stain stark against the white fabric of her midsection.
She raised her eyes and found herself standing inches away from the glass, staring into the eyes of her reflection. Her breath caught in her throat at the hard look in the eyes of the echo, the firm set of her lips. She was taken aback at how beautiful she was, in cold and unsettling kind of way. It was her, and yet . . . it wasn't.
Wake up.
The girl's lips didn't move, but she heard her voice—her own voice, commanding and icy—in her head, and she realized that she wasn't just staring at herself. She was staring at the embodiment of her will to live, her determination to survive, at the raw beauty inside of her.
The blood soaked the fabric of her dress more quickly now, and her reflection, whose dress had been unblemished before, now began to stain too, pooling from a single point on her stomach before spreading and dripping down the skirt.
She glanced up at the girl's face, and something snapped.
Her reflection lunged forward, fist slamming against the glass, creating a spider web of cracks. Eyes wild, she opened her mouth and screamed—
WAKE UP.
Selena's eyes snapped open, lungs inhaling softly.
Everything was out of focus, and the room tilted a little bit, but she swallowed her nausea and stared at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened.
"You're awake."
This time the voice wasn't in her head, but her ears. She glanced to her side and was met with eyes gazing steadily back at her. It was as if those hazel orbs unlocked something inside of her mind and the memories came rushing back.
The woman.
The men.
The fight.
The knife.
Him.
And speaking of him . . . Selena glanced over at the boy. "You saved me," she whispered, her voice rough.
"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die in a disgusting alley," he said with a crooked grin. "That would be rude."
Selena laughed—or started to, but then winced when the action caused her stomach to pull painfully.
There was a moment of comfortable silence, during which Selena fought to keep her eyes open, but she was so warm and tired . . .
"You did good back there, Sly," the boy murmured.
Selena hummed in thanks, a small smile on her lips, her eyes closed. But—
She opened her eyes, brows furrowed. "Sly?" she asked, looking over to him.
He grinned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "I watched you fight. Your movements were so fluid and silent, it was like you weren't bound by gravity." He paused, looking apologetic. "Also . . . I've kinda . . . been following you for a while."
Selena's confusion deepened. "What?"
The boy squirmed in his seat. "I spotted you my first night here. You were so quiet, like you were a ghost or something. You reminded me of a spy."
"What was I doing?" Selena rasped, not weirded out . . . yet.
"You were casing the next place you were going to hit," he said with a smirk.
"Oh." Selena licked her dry lips and took her first good look around.
It was a small apartment of a grungy building, but the room itself was well-kept, mostly because there was hardly anything in it. She was lying on an old couch, a ratty blanket tucked around her. The boy was sitting on a wooden chair that had seen better days, the matching table was in the corner of the room. There was a door set in the opposite wall of the couch, which she assumed led to the bathroom (it didn't look like there was a bedroom). A beaten refrigerator sat against the wall next to the only window that looked out over the neighborhood.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"You mean, 'Why am I in this dump and not in the hospital?' Well, you were, but I got you out of there as soon as I could before they could start asking questions." The boy smiled at her, his gaze reassuring. "Don't worry. I have all the supplies we're going to need to make sure your wound doesn't get infected."
Selena's voice thrummed in her throat in response, her eyes closing again. "What's your name?" she whispered, on the verge of sleep.
She opened her eyes long enough to see him give her that charming smile that made her heart weak for just a moment.
"Name's Chase." His eyes were bright as he watched her. "What's yours?"
"Selena," she said, her lips curling upwards at the corners, eyes closed.
She heard him chuckle, then say, "Get some rest. You need it."
Happy to oblige, Selena began to let her conscience slip away, but the smile remained.
She had relied on her independence for years, thriving on the rush it gave her. Chase threatened that independence, and she had a feeling that he'd be sticking around for a while. But she hadn't realized just how alone she was until he came along, and she wasn't looking forward to going back to her solitude any time soon.
Chase brought a different kind of rush with him, an air of unpredictability, a feeling of freedom she didn't expect.
She was losing control of her life, control that she had fought so long and hard for. She was hanging off a cliff, fingers slipping, a black chasm spanning out below her dangling feet. She was afraid to let go, but she did.
She didn't know what to expect anymore, but . . . that was okay.
She was falling into the unknown, embracing a life she wondered if she was ready for.
What she needed now was faith, trust, and maybe a little pixie dust.
But I only needed one more touch,
Another taste of heavenly rush.
And I believe, I believe it so.
And I only needed one more touch,
Another taste of devouring rush.
And I believe, I believe it so.
Chapter soundtrack: Breath of Life by Florence + The Machine.
Okay, so maybe the soundtrack doesn't exactly fit the story, but when I heard it, I was like, "This is so AWESOME."
So I used it.
It's just the kind of theme song I could imagine playing for Selena when she's kicking butt or doing something cool.
But anyway.
What did you guys think? Do you like Selena better now that you got a chance to know her a little more or is her character not that great? Was the ending kind of rushed?
I will be writing a miniseries describing Chase's absence during the period between Fight Forever and Unearthed, which includes the time he and Selena spent together after they met, so the duo will be back (hopefully soon).
Hope you guys are doing well, and I'll see you next time. :)
