Do you ever have nightmares? The kind that wake you up in the dead of night. A cold sweat dripping down your back and breath coming so fast that darkness clouds the edge of your vision.

I do. I don't remember them. It's as though my eyes blink away the dream before it has a chance to embed itself in my memories. Sometimes I wonder what they are about. What frightens me so much that it can create such panic? Perhaps it is better off I don't know.

With a sigh, I realise that sleep is going to elude me and it's better to stop fighting it as I shuffle into a sitting position and fumble for the glass of water on the bedside cabinet. Gulping the room temperature water does little to soothe the burning in my throat. From screaming? I think so. Though no neighbour has ever complained of hearing anything.

It doesn't surprise me though. In this god forsaken crack house we all know better than to do anything but mind our own business and hope others do the same. Snitches don't get snitches, they get dead and those are words I live by.

My room is modest, but it's mine and that's something that fills me with pride, even as I shuffle awkwardly around the furniture to get ready to face the day. The bathroom is little more than a cupboard with a toilet and a shower mounted on the wall.

It took hours of scrubbing when I first moved in to get it somewhat habitable and even now I want to gag a little if I look too closely at the suspiciously stained tiles. Tilting my head back under the spray I work quickly to clean every inch of me. The water never quite gets hot enough to make a shower an enjoyable experience but I'm clean and that's more than I could say for the years I spent on the street.

At least now, as I lather up the stolen shower gel on my arms, I don't have to fear someone adding to my collection of scars. They litter my body with their message that no one can be trusted. The one on my hip from a man who said he wanted to save me, and another on my shoulder from his wife who was entirely unimpressed and yet somehow found me more to blame than him.

My fingers move through my hair finding the ones that made me harden my heart for good. They were from the people owed money by the last person I dared to love. A shudder ripples through my body and I feel the phantom kiss of that knife on my skin. The memories threaten to rise and overwhelm me but I fight them down again. I can't let myself slip back into that dark place.

The pipes groan as I shut the water off, even this old building seemingly as done with the day as I already felt. With clothing options limited to a choice between two pairs of jeans, in a similarly threadbare state, and a selection of band t-shirts I had collected over the years - I would never look like I had stepped off the catwalk. But they were comfy and generic enough to blend in when I need to be thieving and when twisted in the right way, showed just enough cleavage to get me the tips I needed at the club.

I yank on the nearest one and slip my battered satchel over my shoulder before striding for the door. It's quiet out. Not complete silence, but London quiet where the faint sound of traffic can be heard alongside the clatter of a train in the distance. I don't know what I would do without those background noises I have become so used to. My nose wrinkles at the faint scent of weed hanging in the air. It's banned in the building, not that anyone ever cares enough to check or put a stop to it.

The stairwell stinks of piss and other things I'd rather not think about as I take the stairs two at a time in an effort to escape it a little faster.

I pause by Angie's door, briefly debating if it's worth me knocking for her. A loud sniff inside decides for me and I knock quickly.

There's a shuffling noise and then a click before the door swings open and reveals my only friend. Tears stain her cheeks and her bottom lip is swollen. "What happened? Are you ok?" I demand, pushing in before she can stop me.

Her hand raises hesitantly to her lip, "It's nothing."

Her reply is quick. Too quick. My eyes narrow as I scan the room for the culprit. "Why are you crying then?" I ask.

She laughs, gesturing towards a chopping board and slow cooker, "Oh it just the damn onions forcing me to mourn their death."

My shoulders drop and my body relaxes as I accept there's no threat nearby, "Has anyone told you, you're pretty weird."

"Coming from you!" Angie giggles as she continues to prepare the food.

She once told me she dreamed of becoming a chef. I'm positive she would have been amazing at it too from everything I've tasted. She keeps both of us well fed despite our minimal budget.

"What happened to your lip?" I ask gently after a moment.

She ducks her head, looking embarrassed, "Someone getting too handsy at the club. They dealt with it."

The confession comes out of her in a rush but my angers rises just as quickly, "Where the fuck were the bouncers?"

"They got there as fast as they could but it was busy E, they can't stop every little thing that happens."

I roll my eyes. Having worked alongside Angie for the last year she knows I'm well aware that the club is not the epitome of safety and security. Since we started working there, I've worked hard to protect her and the other dancers from my bartending position but it isn't always that easy.

"I'm sorry Angie," I say, pulling her into a tight hug, "we won't work there forever. One day I'll get us both out of this dump."

"I know, you don't have to worry about me E, I manage just fine." Angie replies, her voice muffled by my shoulder.

I step back and look her up and down to check for other injuries from the night. Sometimes it's hard to believe we are the same age. Her blonde hair is beautiful and wavy around a pretty heart-shaped face, olive-toned skin and warm brown eyes. She's pretty, approachable and that's part of what makes her a popular dancer. I'll never have that natural empathy she does when she talks to customers.

I'm not hideous, but I'm hardened by my past. Skin so fair my scars are nearly invisible and dark brown hair which I routinely wear in a bun. I used to prefer a ponytail until I was dragged along by it once.

Angie meets my gaze head on and I can see my serious grey eyes reflected in hers. "I promise I'm fine." She reassures again, "Are you planning on heading out this morning?"

I nod, "Yeah, just going for a stroll through the commuter crowd."

She knows exactly what that means and I don't know why we speak in code about it. A grin curves her lips, "Hopefully it's good pickings today."

"Fingers crossed, I'll be back in a few hours." I promise.

"Good, now get out of my kitchen." She replies, already shooing me away from her little corner.

I grinned, "OK, I'm going! See you soon."

Slipping through the door I glanced back at her returning to her little pride and joy corner. It had taken us a little while, but we had earned everything we needed to live comfortably.

Angie had suggested moving in together allow us to save more money, but between her revolving door of boyfriend and my nightmares, it would never have worked out.

The morning air was crisp and cold as I shuffled sideways around a bin that stank of rotting takeaway and took the alley between buildings that led to the street. It was easy to join the crowds of commuters streaming down the pavement. Each one so focused on their own destination that they didn't notice what was going on under their noses.

My eyes searched the crowds with practised ease to find the perfect mark. Someone wealthy enough they likely have insurance or the money to cover the loss. I'm a thief, but I'm not a monster.

Stealing things wasn't a choice, it was a matter of survival. If I didn't get enough, Angie and I would never escape the poverty we fought so hard against.

Then I found him. My mark was average height, balding and talking angrily into his phone. The satchel he carried looked like it contained at least one laptop and possibly another phone.

"I don't care, I needed it on my desk yesterday." He snapped to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

He was so absorbed in his fury; he didn't notice as I moved up behind him. Matching him stride for stride.

People moved so close together here, it was hard to even see your feet through the crowds, let alone what their hands were doing. I moved my satchel round, so it bumped against my stomach as I walked, almost perfectly in line with his. I glanced up. We were almost as the station now. It was now or never as I unzipped the back and slipped out a textbook.

To anyone watching me, I'd appear to be a student on my way to class. I slowed my breathing and focused on the perfect moment.

It was the ideal situation...until it wasn't. Someone bumped my shoulder from behind and I stumbled into my mark with a curse.

Now was going to be my only chance. Go for it, or back off and find another mark. But the streets didn't raise a quitter.

My hand moved quickly, sliding the book into his bag at the same time as my light fingers acquired the laptop. "I'm so sorry." I mumbled as it slid home in my bag and zipped closed.

The person who had bumped me apologised too as the man shot us a furious look over his shoulder before going back to shouting at his unfortunate victim on the phone

I let out a relieved breath. Allowing the crowd to lead me into the station. I moved around and ahead of the man as I made a beeline for the exit the other side.

"Hey!"

I heard the man shout and flinched, daring to look back for just a moment and instantly regretting it.

He waved the text book at me angrily, "Get back here you little thief!"

I didn't think twice before bolting into the crowd. Two station staff at the exit had noticed the commotion and were coming towards me.

"Shit, shit shit." I muttered, as I rushed the barriers where people were waiting patiently to insert or scan their tickets.

My heart was in my mouth and adrenaline coursed through me as I barged two people in my hurry, before grabbed the metal sides of the turnstile and tucking my legs up as I vaulted over.

My feet never hit the floor. It was like everything around me vanished and I was suspended in time. Then everything went black and my consciousness faded.