I run until the aches in my limbs come crawling back like a bothersome aunt coming for kisses. I run as my ribs and sides pinch and twist. My own breathing screams in my ears, but they still strain to hear my assailants. Though part of me understands I have lost my them, my brain plays tricks. Sometimes I hear the drunk man slurring after me, other times I hear glass breaking under someone's foot. But the idea of looking behind me to check if I'm being followed sends my heart to the bottom of my stomach.

The buildings around me have embraced me and spun me until I have lost my sense of direction. When my ribs cripple me, refusing to let me go anymore, I finally give a good look around. I choke when brick walls surrounding me don't look familiar or new. My hands dig into my hair. The night is too deep to guess the time. Only the moon raining down on the street provides any kind of light.

My breathing calms down, but my heart beats hard against my chest, almost whispering, Not safe. Not safe.

The idea of the drunk mam hunting me coax me toward the edge of the street. I grope the brick walls until my hands give way to an opening. Another alley.

Not safe, the alarm in my head doesn't relent.

I dip into the darkness of the alley, shivering against the teasing thoughts of monsters and Outsiders waiting for me in its shadows. I walk with my arms outstretched, until my hands bang into a dead end. I crawl into a corner of the alley and slide down until my knees almost cover my face.

I sit in silence for a moment, feeling the Outercity's chill snake across my skin, slithering under my clothes and into my core. The cold pokes at my thoughts, bringing me back to the other alley, with him, and what I did—

My fingers fumble in my pocket and pull out our picture. Though I can't see our faces almost pressed together on the laminated paper, I let my fingers graze over it, and with my eyelids closed, I imagine what our faces looked like when we were on the edge on discovering what we were to each other, before it all went to hell.

My mother was getting more and more apprehensive of me and Andrew. I never understood why at that time, I chose to ignore her sideways glances when Andrew would come over. I would dismiss her offers to drive me to school instead of walking with Andrew. Though sometimes, I couldn't pretend her displeasure wasn't there.

I was more occupied by the stolen moments between me and Andrew. It was little things that stuck to my mind like gum on a hot sidewalk. Like once when we sat at lunch and our shoulders bumped. The simple touch transformed the atmosphere around us into something unfamiliar.

I froze under the feel of his sleeve on my bare shoulder. My other friends continued their lunch without noticing my brain ticking and turning at a hundred miles an hour. Even Emma chewed on her artificial cupcake her mother packed her.

I decided to move my arm away, and without thinking, looked up at Andrew. He stared down at me with a confused, small smile on his face. I looked away before his gaze burned my cheeks.

Instead, I stared at Emma's hot pink swirl on her cupcake.

"What?" Emma asked, "Do you want a bite?" Emma offered, pushing herself up on the table, stretching the cupcake toward me.

Andrew rolled his eyes at Emma, but I just shook my head.

Emma retreated into her seat. "My momma got my formal dress. It's silver with golden sparkles lining the neck line. It matches the towers in the Intercity." Emma curled a piece of her hair between her fingers and fixed her gaze on Andrew, "I would ask you if you could take pictures of me before the formal, but I thought I should get a professional photographer."

Andrew tensed beside me. I shifted toward Emma, moving in front of Andrew, "He's practically a professional, Emma."

"I wouldn't want you to model for me anyway." Andrew said at the same time.

Emma threw up her hands, "Geeze, I was joking. Besides, I'm sure Andrew will be busy getting ready for his own date to the dance." Emma smiled, resting her head on her palm, "So, Andrew, who's the girl?"

Andrew's face turned crimson as the whole table snapped their eyes to him. It was a low blow, and everyone knew it. I had never seen a girl have any interest in him. It's wasn't that he wasn't cute or sweet. But his mother was an Outsider.

I was the only one who had never thrown it in his face. It wasn't that I had forgotten. My mother made sure of that.

"I am," I said.

Emma's smug smile slipped off her face, "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" I shot back.

Emma shrugged and started to unwrap her cupcake. I felt Andrew's eyes burning into my skull, but I continued to eat lunch.

After school, we were silent on the public bus, and when we walked along the sidewalk, each crunch of our steps sounded like a hammer pounding the ground. It wasn't until I saw the edges of my house that Andrew spoke.

"You don't have to. Go to the formal, I mean."

The seriousness in his tone made my muscles tense. I didn't like it when he was serious. "I was going to go anyway."

"But you don't have to go with me," He said.

I shrugged, silently begging for my house to get closer. "It's no big deal."

"Wait." Andrew stopped, grabbed me, and swung me around. His face was pitched in worry and maybe...embarrassment? He chewed at the end of his lip and stuck his hands in his pocket. My heart fluttered.

"Andrew, we probably would have ended up hanging out that night anyway. Now we can just make a night of it." I dared to draw closer and rest a hand on his arm. "Besides, I wouldn't want to go with anyone else."

***

My hand still clutched the picture as my eyelids pealed open. The morning light brightened the smug hanging in the alley. It fogs my vision and invades my lungs, something I didn't notice last night.

My head, shoulder, and knees are pressed against a cement corner. When I try to move my head, my neck cramps from the uncomfortable position. I grind my teeth and push my head up before stretching my tired limbs.

As my eyes adjust to my surroundings, memory from last night jolts me. The thought of that man's hands on me makes me want to throw up again, if I had anything in my stomach. Though some part of me whispers to stay into my little ball and to go back to sleep, pretending that nothing bad ever happened, I can hear my mother. I can hear her telling me to get myself together. Under my eyelids, I can see her grimacing at the state I'm in.

My knees creek as I stand and hide Andrew's picture in my pocket. I make my way out of the alley. Though I'm still as lost as I was last night, there must be someone who can point me toward the OTF. Once I get back, I'll tell the headmaster what happened and request a separate room from the other students. Then I'll wait.

Headmaster Glinda will come back for us. I just have to look for Andrew more discreetly.

Before stumbling out of the alley, I look to see who else is travelling around at this hour. I see a few people mauling around. One older woman wobbles down the street with two plastic bags in her hands. Her head is covered by a navy rag, and her coat is patched and worn. My nostrils flare at the sight, but I stump down my disgust. Another man sits on the corner, taking a sip out of a canister. I can only assume he spends most of his days out there.

Once my nerves are relaxed, I glide through the street. Each time a street breaks out into another, I think about asking one of the strays for directions, but the idea of talking to anyone puts me on edge. My luck with Outsiders so far isn't promising. Each person I talked to only confirmed everything my mother has told me. Outsiders cannot be trusted.

But it has also proved that there is no way Andrew deserves to be here. He is nothing like them.

After about twenty minutes, I have no choice but to approach someone. I try to look out for a border guard, or someone who looks like they know something. But everyone I'm running into looks weary and dirty. They wander around the streets like lost souls.

"Excuse me?" I ask a woman who walks with a hunch.

The woman looks up at me, her head shaking with strain.

"Do you know where the OTF is?" I whisper.

She woman looks me over with her eyebrows drawn together. She points to her ears and leans closer.

"I said, 'do you know where to OTF is?" I ask louder.

The woman shakes her head and waves to her ear. Her fingers point with impatience. I huff and lean closer to her. "Where is the Outercity Training Facility?" I shout into the woman's ear.

"I don't think you have to worry about getting there, sweetheart." A dark voice rumbles behind me. I spin on my heel. A man stands with a swordfish tattoo running over his bicep. His muscular arms cross over his cut sleeved shirt. His waist is covered with a wide belt with knives, long blades, and some other weapons that I didn't know existed.

His dark eyes bare down on me. Friends walk up behind him with the same death promising glare. All share a swordfish tattoo. I count four of them in all.

I look back at the older woman, but she is gone.

"Thinking of running?" The same man speaks, watching me like I'm a baked chicken.

My muscles tense. My throat comes up dry, choking me.

"Not even a fight? Are you sure?" He moves closer to me. His first step sends a realization through me, and my body reactions.

I bolt away from the man and his clones before he can say anything else. Stupid, stupid, Cassandra. What was I thinking walking around in the day light? Did I not think that anyone would be looking for me?

Though the idea of anyone liking that monster didn't seem likely. The man curses. The gravel spatters under my feet but I keep running. Tears puddle in my throat because I know what the odds are that I can actually get away. I faced two drunk men, and they still got the better of me. Now it's four against one.

I swallow my tears and grunt, forcing my feet to move quicker. I might not get away, but I won't make it easy for them. My heart's panicked putter draws me forward then around a corner. The sharp turn slows me down, and I can feel fingers brush my shirt. I duck out of the way and take a hard left onto another road.

The morning haze breaks and out pours the people. Whatever sleep haunted the Outercity streets is now over. People burst out of the decaying apartments and fills the once empty streets. The elderly and drunks who occupied the abandoned streets are swallowed by the bustle of people heading to work.

I praise the Great City as I dive into the bobbing and swaying bodies. I can hear a curse of frustration behind me as I disappear into the crowd. Never have I thought I would be thankful for so many Outsiders.

I weave through the crowd, bumping shoulders and stepping on heels. A few people throw me a cutting glare, but I press on. After I travel deep into the bodies do I then allow myself to look back at my pursuers.

They are as blended into the people as well as I am. Like at the bar, everyone's facial features merge together, and I struggle to see anyone dressed in black clothes with weapons decorating them like jewelry. I don't allow myself enough time to really get a good look before I keep moving. My once desperate sprint is halted to a quick walk as the traffic suffocates me.

The heat from the moving bodies makes sweat slither down my shoulder blades. I hunch my shoulder and bend my neck down. My hair feathers over my face, closing me in. I will my breathing to slow as I shuffle along.

My eyes flutter over the crowd's. I look for any opening or a new street to sneak away to. My head twirls until it lands on a black tank top with ripped sleeves. My gaze travels to the weapons hanging on the man's hips. He stands on the toes, stretching his neck over the swaying heads.

My breathing pauses. I retreat backwards, my feet brushing each other as I move. I hit a few people, but most let me pass. Once I am a few feet away, I turn my back on him, and almost bump into another woman who holds her shoulders back and a hand on her belt, fingering a dagger. She was among the people looking for me. Her swordfish tattoo on her forearm confirms it.

For a moment I think she will be like her oblivious companion, but her eyes meet mine. Her lips pull back in a sneer. Her hand clinches her dagger. I jump into action and kick her shin. Part of her body buckles against the blow, but she throws me a look of disgust. I don't wait for her to recover before I swim into the crowd of bodies.

The woman lets out a cry, "She's over here!"

Three other voices respond to her summons. I ignore the voices and plunge forward. I move toward the edge of the crowd, no longer feeling safe in the pressing bodies. My only hope is that the group is having a hard time then me getting out. Once I reach the edge, my hands push on the wall, propelling me faster and faster. Then my hand meets nothing.

I tumble into another dark street. Before I can get my feet under me, I hear a shout from the moving crowd behind me. They saw me come fall into the street. I sweep the street for a way out or a hiding place. I take a few steps in, when a hand appears out of the wall. No. Not a wall. A door.

The hand ceases my arm and pulls me toward the opening. The iron grip doesn't budge when I try to pull away, instead the grip launches me into the doorway. I slam into the chest of a woman with the darkest eyes I have ever seen. They are like pools of oil.

She claps her hand over my mouth and pushes a finger to her lips. My heart thuds against my chest, but my eyes are trapped by her black pools. In the closet-like space, I can see her black hair and small nose. It's bridged with freckles, but her jaw is sharp. Her face is tight. Her eyes are far away.

A rumble of voices muffle through the door. A voice growls, "Where did she go? Violet, you said she was here!"

"I saw her come this way—" Violet protests.

"Shut up!" A man shouts, the same one who teased her. "Head back into the street and search for her. She couldn't have gotten far." Silence then, "Violent, you better pray that we find her first."

Me and the black-eyed girl wait until their footsteps fade before we breathe. I shove her hand off my mouth and wipe her filth off with the back of my hand. "Thank you," I say, pressing against the door. "I think they're gone."

My hands search for the doorknob and once found, I reach for it. The girls hand grabs it first and her knuckles are white.

"You're coming with me." She whispers.

My face snaps to hers, and that's when I see it. A stingray tattoo peeking out from under her top.

"Like hell I am."