Page 1 of Stealing Embers

Chapter One

Acrash breaks the silence of the early morning. With a jolt, my eyes pop open and I’m on my feet, bag slung over my shoulder before I’m fully awake. My shoes slap the pavement beneath me as I sprint for the open end of the alley. Sparks of light flicker around the periphery of my vision.

Real or imaginary?

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I catch a garbage truck depositing a dumpster on the ground. The lid bangs against the metal side and echoes off the buildings lining the alley. The lights pulsate with each loud hit, then fade when the noise settles.

The shot of adrenaline coursing through my system leaves my heart racing, even as my mind dismisses any real threat of danger.

Slowing to a stop, I lean against the side of the building and press a hand to my chest, willing the beats to slow.I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe, I chant while practicing deep breathing.

The air nips at my heated cheeks and cools the moisture already collecting around my hairline. Closing my eyes, I focus on the sensations that ground me in reality.

The stale smell of rotten food and garbage.

Rough brick beneath my fingertips.

The fuzzy build-up and bitter tang on my teeth from my short night’s sleep.

I am here, and I am awake—at least, I hope so. Opening my eyes with painstaking slowness, I silently pray the spectrum world won’t fill my view.

I let out a loud sigh of relief at the graffiti-spattered wall across the alley. The ground is littered with trash and random detritus: a shoe, a discarded bike tire, the carcass of a dead rat.

This may be the first time I’m excited to see a rat in any form. Rats don’t exist in the spectrum world, so the furry corpse is further confirmation I still exist in reality.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Counting my heartbeats is one way I calm myself down—a strategy for slowing the release of adrenaline into my system.

I live in fear of adrenaline rushes.

They are my main trigger to seeing the world I’ve been told doesn’t exist. I do whatever I can to avoid them—including isolating myself, which isn’t usually an issue since people are naturally uncomfortable around me. Over the years, I’ve honed my senses to be aware of the world around me, but I’m screwed during the few hours my body demands sleep.

If only sleeping with one eye open were possible.

I’ve had more instances of slipped reality in the past year than the last ten combined. One of the many negatives of homelessness is that you always live life a bit on edge. Still, that doesn’t outweigh the one big, fat positive that comes from living on the Denver streets: Becoming a runaway saved me from being locked up in a psychiatric hospital.

I’ll accept a wide variety of suffering to hold on to my freedom.

The first groans of an awakening city disrupt my thoughts. The beeping from the garbage truck that startled me awake stops when the driver shifts from reverse to drive and thunders on his way. Cars rumble by, their morning exhaust creating plumes of smoke in the air. Rusted metal security gates creak and clang when store owners roll them up to invite business for the day. Muffled shouts ring out from down the block and a dog’s sharp bark echoes from an apartment above.

I miss the darkness already.

Pushing off the cold wall behind me, I check my hat to make sure everything is safely tucked away.

My hair grows too fast and I haven’t so much as trimmed it in the last year. The strands are dirty and matted, the platinum blonde hue covered in several layers of grime. Hiding my hair has nothing to do with my insecurities and everything to do with downplaying my femininity. I don’t need to make myself any more of a target than I already am.

People see me as weak.

I’m not, but making it through the day without altercations is important if I don’t want to accidentally slip out of this reality.

My other option is to cut it short. It’s something I’ve considered more than once, but I’ve already given up so much. I can’t stomach losing something else. Instead, I’ll keep it hidden.

Satisfied my head is properly covered, I tug the beanie down over my ears and plod to the corner of the building. Keeping my body pressed against the brick wall, I peek at the rousing world outside the dingy alley.

The sun is only just beginning its daily ascent. The sky holds fast to the gray and blue screen of night, but the darkness will soon be chased away by the budding light.

The corners of my mouth turn down at the evidence of the growing day.

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