Young Writers Society

    Linna sat curled on her bed, a dry trickle of red tracing a bloody path down her cheek. Tracing it with a finger, she felt her way up to the scab forming around the base of her ear. Her gaze landed on the discarded razor next to her small washbasin, tracked the droplets of crimson from it to the bed. If only it were that simple. She fingered the old cuts on her ears, the ones that she left after every attempt to remove them. The one that made its way a quarter of the way across her ear, only because she had been so high she hadn't felt the pain.

    She felt no shame at the cuts. They weren't marks of sorrow. They were marks of desperation and hatred, yes, but not of sorrow. She clawed at them, digging her nails into her skin until the pain jolted through her. With a sharp breath, she sat upright, ignoring the wave of headiness that overtook her for a second, blotting her vision. Teetering over to her wash basin, she picked up a damp cloth and dabbed at the trail of blood down her cheek until it left. Once she was done, she picked up the discarded razor and dropped it in the basin, dribbling water over it and watching the red-tinged water trickle down the hole.

    Her gaze darted across the room to the rucksack standing in the corner. Whatever happened, she knew that that allowed her to leave on a moments notice - to disappear from the shop. It was her security, more than her alertness, more than anything, the fact that she could go if she needed enveloped her in a ball of heady calm. It dulled her, maybe, but she needed it.

    Checking her appearance in the small mirror, she fixed her hat on her head again, pinning her ears to her head tight enough to make the newly formed scab crack. The pain brought a roll of relief. They were hidden. She was safe. One breath to push it all away. She smoothed her skirts and hid her fear away. She'd let it out another time, when it was stale and mundane.

    Stepping down the stairs, the dusty scent of gunpowder still lingered, long after the corporal had left. Through the tinted windowpanes, she could see the streetlights slowly coming to life with a gentle click and flicker, leaving dark shadows in the unlit corners. One of the shadows shifted slightly, and her sharp eyes picked out the form of a man. Staring a few seconds longer, she noted a glint at his collar and crisp folds in the fabric he wore and stepped backwards. She didn't stop moving until she was hidden by the curtain separating the storeroom from the rest of the shop.

    Soldier. Guard. The word whispered its way into every recess of her mind, anchoring itself into the sandbed she had constructed to keep the fear at bay. She could feel the fact that her street was being guarded permeate her defenses and form a sinkhole, dragging everything away until there was nothing but a raw, quivering ball of terror hiding from the world. She sucked in a breath. Her mind had added everything she knew together, even if her conscience hadn't followed.

    The corporal visiting the shop. The guard in the street. The rutting smell of gunpowder that still lingered everywhere like a bad spell. Maybe the Lady with the cub who smelt like the bloody stuff. Were they tracking her? Did they already know that she wasn't human or were they just scoping the area out to try and find people like her? She couldn't be sure, she couldn't tell, and her instincts were telling her to run. To run now and to not come back. But, the part of her that had kept its rationale reasoned, if she left, then they would know that it was her, that she had had something to hide. Better to wait and see. To watch them watching her and learn. That was how she survived. She learned.

    A breath rattled around her chest. She sat on a crate of boxes. After a few seconds, she stood shakily and took stock of the books that were around her. The worlds she lost herself in. The heroes and heroines she loved. They were scared sometimes. They used that fear. She didn't trust herself to use it. She wasn't in a story. She was a coward, and she definitely wasn't having an adventure. So she'd watch them. Figure out what they were doing. Find a way to escape.