Chapter 1
She paced in the bedroom, the thick scent of smoke flooding her lungs, choking on the taste of charred wood and burnt brick. She tried the window. Locked, obviously. She was really starting to question her choices. She strode over to the door in two steps, agitation turning to fear as she pressed the back of her hand against the door. Hot. Burning hot. Her hand flew from the door. There was no way she was getting out that way. Frantic now, she searched the room pulling out clothes and blankets and anything she could find from the wardrobes and cupboards, praying to find some sort of key, anything to help open the window. The fire was creeping closer to the door, slowly invading the bedroom turning it into an oven. The heat clouded her mind as she searched. What was he going to do? Suddenly it hit her. A wave of calm, of realisation. She rushed at the window, too fast for thought, the smoky inferno burning her back and singing her thick brown hair as it trailed behind her. She body slammed full force into the window. An ear splitting sound of glass shattering rang out into the night sky around her as she fell for approximately one second before her crash landing into the cold grass. She could taste metallic blood in her mouth and coughed it up, letting herself rest on the dewey grass for a moment, cool and soothing to her burns, before she sat up. She stood up slowly, pushing herself up, careful not to cause more pain. Then it hit her. The adrenaline. Freedom. From everything. Everyone in that house. That fire. They were finally gone. The ghosts of her past. They really were ghosts now. Nothing was holding her back. A fresh start. As many as she wanted. All she had to do now was get out of here. She ran. She ran across roads and sprinted down alleyways, the few people who saw her too wrapped up in their own stories to take any notice of hers.
The painter examined her work, studying each corner with immense care, expressionless, unreadable. Paints and brushes lay scattered around her in disarray. Her apron stained with paints both old and new. Was she proud? Proud of the labyrinthine city weaving and dipping and curving across the canvas. She stared at the canvas, confusion in her eyes, as she twirled a paintbrush round her fingers. Suddenly, a scary determination flooding her face, she started to paint again, swirls of red and coils of orange, her own world bending and changing at her will.
The girl was leaning against her motorbike on her phone when she saw her. She was beautiful. Long brown hair, in loose curls, eyes sparkling with adrenaline, and golden skin that looked to almost be glowing as she rushed around the corner, seemingly in a hurry before coming to an abrupt stop at a wall and dropping to the floor, with flushed cheeks. The girl blushed to herself, too embarrassed to walk up to her or even make eye contact. She spun around to avoid looking at her and pretended to sort out her bike as if it wasn't already ready to go and she climbed onto her crimson motorbike, and took a matching crimson helmet, shoving it over her own jet back hair, roughly cut by herself to just above her shoulders and pulled her visor down over her pale skin, red with embarrassment of her sharp features in front of this beautiful girl with her own soft ones. She didn't know whether she wished she was her or she wished she could date her. With one backwards glance to her, after meeting eyes and becoming even more red, she revved her motorbike and zoomed away from the beautiful girl.
The painters brush flicked about the canvas with incredible speed, adding highlights and shadows to the images until they seemed to stand out of the canvas. It seemed to the untrained eye as if the brush was flying while the painter was dragged along barely keeping up but a firm grip upon the old brush.
The girl sprinted round countless corners and down many streets until at last she got tired of running and rushed round one final corner before dropping to the floor out of exhaustion. She gasped for air. She was fine. No one knew it was her and she was far from there now anyways. All she needed to do was stop stressing but nothing was helping her to calm down especially with that hot girl by the motorbike staring at her. As soon as she looked back at her, she pretended she hadn't been looking in the first place and she couldn't tell whether she knew or not. Panicked, the girl watched as she sped off on her motorbike, glinting under the lampost. Once more she sped off through the streets and alleyways, furthering the distance between her and the place she had once called home. Finally, exhausted, she came to a stop, and slid down on to her knees head in her hands; raw from the fire. She could feel the heat running through her veins. She coughed, spluttering a crimson red across her lips and the alleyway, adding to the blood already caked onto the walls. She leant back against the wall, resting her eyes.