Chapter 1 - The Sewers

  The squeak of a rat wakes me from my troubled slumber. I’m startled at first, wondering how the rat had gotten into my room, but then I realised I wasn’t in my room – I was in the sewers.

  Sighing sadly, I stood from the slimy concrete where I had spent the night. The police would have stopped the search for me by now, so it was probably safe to go into the city. I needed food and water, and I needed to find somewhere better to stay overnight. I can’t sleep in the sewers every night – it’s unhygienic.

  The only reason I ended up down here in these retched sewers was because my step-mother framed me for the death of my father. She wanted him, and me, out of the way, so that she could claim all of my dad’s savings and run away to New York or someplace else… And in order to do that, she poisoned my father and framed me for it.

  Of course, I narrowly escaped the clutches of the police by hiding in the sewers. I’ve lived in this city for my whole life, and it was my dad who showed me the best places to hide in case I were to get chased by bullies during secondary school. So when the police were hot on my tail I took a sharp left into an alleyway near my best friend’s house, found the sewer cover, lifted it and jumped in, pulling the cover over me before the police knew where I had went.

  I had cried myself to sleep last night. It’s not something I’ve ever done; then again I had no reason to until now. Images of my dad’s limp and lifeless body kept invading my mind, with his eyes rolled back into his head and his face pale and caved in, as though he were anorexic. How could anyone be so cruel as to poison someone so horrifically? How could my step-mother, the sweet and gentle woman my father fell in love with, turn out to be someone with selfish and wicked intentions?

  Life’s cruel, my dear, I can hear my father’s voice say. Life plays tricks on you. It deceives you. You could meet the man of your dreams one day, and the next day you could be heartbroken, feeling as though your heart has been ripped into a million little pieces. After that it’s up to you what you do next; you could pick up the pieces and continue living by life’s rules, or you could jump from the highest building in the city and be free from life’s evil clutches.

  “I want to live,” I whisper to myself. “But I want to live by my rules.”

  Dad’s voice isn’t responding. Of course it's not - it’s all in my head. My dad told me about how horrible life truly was when I was fourteen, because of how upset I was about my cat Kiki being put down. She had leukaemia, which had been diagnosed too late. She couldn’t be saved, so the vet put Kiki out of her misery.

  What dad had said to me that day had stayed in my head, and I repeated it to myself every day… that is, until dad met my step-mother, Lydia. She was like an angel sent from Heaven. Her hair was a shimmering natural blonde, her eyes were as blue as topaz, and her skin as white as ivory. She was the mother I’d always dreamed of having, since I never knew my real mother. Having her around made it seem like life wasn't as cruel as dad had made it out to be.

  I was wrong to think that life could have a good side. It was stupid and naïve of me to think that my life was going to be better.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been so blinded by her beauty. It’s beauty that kills in this day and age.

  And that beauty killed my father.

  Get a move on, my mind was telling me, you don’t want to be down here all day.

  And with that thought I walked over to the steel ladder and began to climb up to the sewer cover. I could ask my best friend for help. He’d provide me with food, and something hydrating to drink, and, hopefully, a bed for the night.

  He’s my only hope of getting through the day, and probably every other day, providing the police don’t ever find me.

  The sewer cover was heavier than it was last night. Maybe, since I was in a panic, I had more strength than usual, or maybe I just never noticed how heavy it was when lifting it last night? Or maybe I had superpowers that were just weakened after being used for the first time?

  Don’t let your stupid imagination run wild at a time like this.

  Well, my fantasies will have to wait until another day, when I’m not being hunted by the police.

  Using the strength I did have, I pushed the cover all the way up, until it flipped onto the alleyway with a loud thunk. I then listened for any signs of police being nearby. When the coast seemed clear, I clambered out of the sewer and dragged the heavy cover back over the hole where it belonged.

  The noonday sun was blindingly bright, despite it being autumn. Well, I had been in a dark, dank sewer for about twelve hours, so it was likely my eyes weren’t going to get used to the sudden brightness straight away.

  I looked left and right cautiously through my squinted eyes, making sure no one had seen me get out of the sewer. Once I was sure that no one had seen me, I looked down at myself. My clothes were covered in a greyish-green slime that stank of waste and sewage. One of my shoes had fallen off not long after I ran out of my father’s house, so my foot was cut from pieces of glass and gravel I must’ve stepped on. My hair was in clumps at the ends, damp with last night’s tears and today’s sewage. My face felt sticky and stiff, an unnatural feeling that I’m not used to. I needed to have a bath, as well as getting fed and watered.

  I just hate how I’ve ended up here like this. How can life be so perfect, so bright and happy and full of excitement, and then come crashing down like an avalanche, or spiralling uncontrollably like a tornado? How can something as wonderful as a young teenage life turn into the life of a runaway criminal? And more specifically, why did this all have to happen to me?

  This is no time for questions that can’t be answered, I thought. Just hurry up and get what you need. You never know when the police will be back here looking for you.

  Tip-toeing carefully to the end of the alleyway, I thought of what my dad would do in a situation like this. After all, he used to be a real life criminal, so hiding from the police was a normal thing for him. In a situation like this, he would probably go to the farm he owns in the countryside, where he can hide safely while also still meeting his needs. I would do that, but I haven’t got my driver’s license yet, and I can’t exactly go back home to borrow my dad’s car.

  I could borrow my friend’s car, or ask him to drive me to my dad’s farm. I’m sure he would be okay with it.

  Peeking around the corner of the alley, I saw my friend’s house. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it’s what he liked to call home. It was a red-brick house, with cracks shaped like lightning decorating the windows. The front doorway was boarded up, due to the fact that a gang vandalised his old front door. The only way into his house nowadays was through his back door.

  I tried to sprint for his house, but my damaged foot wouldn’t allow it. Putting pressure on it caused pain to shoot sharply up my leg, making me stumble and almost fall flat on my face. It looked as though I would be limping to his house. I wouldn’t want to damage my foot anymore anyway – I may need it later on if I need to run from the police again.

  After a painful limping journey I finally reached my best friend’s back door. I remember helping him to make his back door, so as to stop any neighbouring dogs from getting into his house and biting his face off while he slept. We’d found a wooden table that was dismantled in the nearby junkyard, so we took the table top part back to his place and screwed on some hinges and a doorknob. My dad helped to put it into the doorway, making sure it was put in straight and that the DIY door actually worked. The door that was before me looked exactly like it did when my dad put it in two years ago.

  The thought of my father makes me want to cry.

  Don’t let the tears fall, my mind tells me. Hold them back. Don’t show that you’re weak.

  I breathe in deeply and knock on the door.

  The wait seemed to last for hours. Silence surrounded me from every angle, like the world around me was soundproofed. It made me break out in a sweat, adding to the sticky feeling on my face that I could no longer stand.

  Please be awake, please be awake, please be awake.

  Please be home, please be home, please be home.

  The door opened without a sound, followed by a tall black-headed blur embracing me with a hug attack.

  “Kitty,” he mumbled, relieved, into my hair. “My poor kitty.” He pulled away from me and looked into my eyes. “Where were you, silly kitty?” he asked, his lop-sided smile crossing his lips. “I was worried sick when I heard the police were after you.”

  “I hid in the sewers around the corner,” I said, whilst trying to tuck my clumped hair behind my ears. “It was the only place I could hide.”

  “Yeah, I was wondering why you smelled of sewage.”

  I sighed. “Can I come in? Before someone sees me and calls the police?”

  He nodded and stepped aside to let me into his home.