Fatal Flaws

Part 1

Loud gunshots echo down the alleyway as my back slams into the hard brick. Leaning against its cool surface, I try to catch my breath—my lungs on fire—choking on the stale, damp air.

Bullets whiz past my head, some so close the air hisses in my ear as they fly by. A stray piece of debris hits my cheek, leaving a stinging, open gash as I mash my body flat against the wall—my heart hammering like it's about to explode.

How long have I been running?

Minutes? Hours? My legs can't tell the difference. My side seizes, causing me to double over, panting.

A rustling noise comes from the dumpster beside me—something scurries over broken glass near my foot. Maybe it's a rat—just as desperate to escape as I am.

My head spins, the thoughts jumbled and scattered like the shell casings around me.

What's happening? How did I get here?

"Snap out of it, Bex," I mutter, my voice rough and unfamiliar. "This can't be real," I whisper, searching for something—a clue, anything—but nothing makes sense.

Hot, sticky sweat trickles down my face—the heavy, smog-filled air suffocating me.

My vision blurs—eyes stinging. The torn, dirty sleeve of my shirt offers little relief.

My mouth is dry as my tongue slips out, swiping across my chapped lips, leaving behind the bitter taste of salt and dirt.

I can hardly keep my eyes open. Looking around, I see a bright yellow sign flashing above me: "Ollie's Billiards."

But I quickly look away as a searing pain erupts through my skull—the blinding lights are too much.

Giving up, my body slides down the wall, and I land hard on the cold, dirty pavement. Every bone in my body aches—every muscle screaming.

I don't know how much more I can take.

Gunshots ring out closer than before, and my body shrinks down—pressing tight against the brick—each labored breath ragged and strained.

"Get up, Bex!" a tiny voice in my head urges—but where?

Where do you run when there's nowhere to go?

The stench of rotting Chinese food and urine hangs heavy all around me. In the distance, the city is alive—with horns blaring, people shouting, and cars driving by—but none of it matters.

Nothing can save me.

I'm alone in the worst part of town—its dark streets lined with bars, clubs, and abandoned buildings. Each one is just as dangerous as the last, if not more so.

My house is only a few blocks away, but it feels like a million miles. My stomach clenches at the thought of home. If only I could make it there... maybe I'd be safe.

I can't give up—not yet. I refuse to let my story end in this filthy alley.

Palms scraping against the dirt, I push up from the ground—legs trembling violently beneath me. I force myself forward, one foot in front of the other—barely more than a shuffle.

My vision swims, and the ground tilts beneath me. Losing my balance, I cry out as a jagged stone pierces my flesh, sending a throbbing pain through my body.

I grit my teeth and lunge forward—grabbing hold of the rusty fire escape above me. The metal is cold and slippery—but I hold on—my nail breaking off as I dig into it.

Shaking from head to toe, I manage a few more steps—each one harder than the last. The pain intensifies, but I can't stop.

I have to keep going. "You got this," I mutter, but apparently my body has other plans.