• Drip...drip....drip....drip....every drip was like a hammer to the back of my delecate teenage head. My eyes opened. You'd think after living on the streets for a year, you'd be used to annoying persistant noises, but it still bothered me. It was easier for me to sleep in an alley with occassionally passing cars and other noises of the city than to break into an abandoned house and hear the same quiet repetitive noise all night. I sighed and slung my shabby backback over my shoulder as I crawled out of the broken basement window I had entered from.
    I noticed the frigid February night air as I sheltered my hands in the front pocket of my baggy black hoodie. I considered the alley to my right but continued taking the sidewalk in long strides, I didn't need to settle down tonight. My pounding headache told me that. Trying to sleep would be pointless. Every previous headache like this had the same results. Endless nights wandering the streets of wherever I happened to be at the time.
    I couldn't afford to stay in one place for more than a few weeks. I was too obvious. A young teen should be in school during the weekdays, everyone knows that, and I couldn't pass for over 16 if I tried. But that wasn't even the most obvious thing. My face was one quite hard to forget. Rounded, pale, astonishing blue eyes, and my hair. Short boyish black spikes in back, and a waterfall of bloodred hair in front, cheek length on the left, shoulder length at the right. I was the picture perfect trouble maker.
    I'm sure most people would think it incredibly stupid to draw so much attention to myself, being a runaway. But that's my tactic. I was the simplest girl in the world back home. Long brown hair, normal attire, head down, small steps. No one looked at me twice. I was too afraid to have a personality. And then I broke away.
    I ran for the first time in my life. I was terrified, but only of getting sent back. Finally I could be what I wanted to be. Myself, but with flaws I hadn't been thinking about. I wasn't thinking about how I would get the hairdye to make me unrecognisable. I wasn't thinking about how I would house myself...how I would feed myself. I became a theif. It was worth it for sure, but it didn't keep me from feeling guilty. I showered in public gyms when I could get in, and twice in a school locker room.
    My feet ached, it had been a long day. I decided to at least rest somewhere, there was no way I would make it through the next day if I didn't stop soon. I continued on until I came to the nearest alley when I noticed something. There were footsteps behind me. Sure people walk the streets of the city all the time, but it was one of those instances where an ordinary noise turned spooky, those footsteps had been following me for much longer than I would have liked. I turned into the alley and peered over my shoulder. My heart stuttered, a tall figure was just a few paces behind me. I could smell the sweet smoky scent of cherry cigar as my pace quickened. So did his. I stopped, shaking, I turned.
    "Can I help you mister?" I asked loudly, throwing my chin up in attempt to look tough. The man stepped closer and his face was thrown into relief, he was a little heavy set, with short, curly black hair, a sort of goatee and cold dark chocolate eyes.
    "I'm sure you could..." he said, grinning. The end of his cigar glowed orange.
    "Not in the way you'd like" I informed him, "I don't sell myself, so you can go find yourself someone else".
    He chuckled darkly and put his arm around my shoulder, caressing my cheek with his free thumb, "so you think I'm a creeper, huh?"
    I coughed as the smoke from the cigar in his hand burned my airways, "kinda!"
    "And are you scared, little girl?" He stepped in front of me, putting the cigar back in his mouth and pulling my face closer to his.
    I backed up against a wall, "N-no?" But I was...I was terrified. I'd never come this close to getting hurt before...he was already this close. A million thoughts ran through my head, I should have run, why'd I stop, what was he going to do? He took the cigar from his mouth and leaned down. I couldn't help it. Instinct took over and my fist swung out of my pocket, connecting hard with his mouth. He grunted, staggering backward, his hand flying up to hold his bleeding lips.
    "You just made...a serious mistake,"