"Slivers of light shine between buildings, but not enough for me to see anything. My vision starts to blur from my lack of oxygen. I am losing balance. My body’s endeavor to stay upright wavers. I slip on the wet pavement. I feel the crunch of bones as my face smacks the asphalt, my arms not fast enough to break the fall. Blood, almost black in color, drips onto my hands, which are currently holding me in crouched stance.
I back up, until the rough surface of bricks grasps at my clothing. The second pair of feet I had heard previously has ceased their thunderous strides. I try to not worry about it too much.
In, out. In, out. In, out. I chant this like a mantra. Breathe in for ten seconds, breathe out for ten seconds. Just like my therapist taught me. As my heartbeat slows, I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, taking in my surroundings. Weirdly enough, that’s the only thing about this phone that works. The alleyway I’m in is piled with rubbish on either side. On the wall opposite of me, there is a door with the name of a restaurant I can’t make out, printed in bold red letters. Must be where all this garbage comes from, I think to myself."

Leftover rain patters against the sidewalk as it falls off of the nearby tree limbs. The sun has already set. Shadows are cast from the street lights. Pale moonlight stretches across the treetops.
Unfortunately, I am not admiring the beauty of the night. My feet pound against the concrete, heels aching. I don’t know how long I’ve been running, but according to my torrid lungs, it has been for awhile. I struggle to breathe as I round a corner into an alley.
Slivers of light shine between buildings, but not enough for me to see anything. My vision starts to blur from my lack of oxygen. I am losing balance. My body’s endeavor to stay upright wavers. I slip on the wet pavement. I feel the crunch of bones as my face smacks the asphalt, my arms not fast enough to break the fall. Blood, almost black in color, drips onto my hands, which are currently holding me in crouched stance.
I back up, until the rough surface of bricks grasps at my clothing. The second pair of feet I had heard previously has ceased their thunderous strides. I try to not worry about it too much.
In, out. In, out. In, out. I chant this like a mantra. Breathe in for ten seconds, breathe out for ten seconds. Just like my therapist taught me. As my heartbeat slows, I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, taking in my surroundings. Weirdly enough, that’s the only thing about this phone that works. The alleyway I’m in is piled with rubbish on either side. On the wall opposite of me, there is a door with the name of a restaurant I can’t make out, printed in bold red letters. Must be where all this garbage comes from, I think to myself.
I press my fingers to my upper lip, feeling the thick liquid that had been gushing out of my nose. I don’t dare touch it, knowing it’s broken. I lift the hem of my black hoodie and wipe away the blood. The flow has slowed to a steady trickle, it should soon stop altogether.
I slowly rise back up, careful not to make any noise. I assume the person that had been chasing me has gone elsewhere and I decide to peek around the edge of the building. Looking both ways, the street is empty. Only the flood of the street lamps and the moon light shine down on the pavement. No figures are lurking around, not that I can see anyway. Strange...not even a single car. I don’t think twice about it though and step out cautiously.
While heading home, I stay out of the lights, sticking to the shadows they create instead. There hasn’t ever been much light in my life. Constantly being pushed around the foster system will do that to you. It will drag you into darkness and leave you there, making you dig yourself out of the dark void they call a life. Most people don’t make it out. I can only hope that I will without losing my mind.
I round another corner, seeing the red bridge I currently call home. Recently, I’ve turned 18 and have been kicked out of the foster house I was living in. Right now I only make enough to eat and I’ve been able to afford a large coat since winter is coming. Once I’ve saved up enough I’ll be able to make a down payment on an apartment, but I’m not quite there yet.
I’ve almost reached my sleeping bag when I hear it. The pounding. The slap of sole against sidewalk. Anxiety and adrenaline fill me. I sprint past all of the other homeless people who are trying to sleep. For some reason their faces are blurry. I run past where my makeshift bed was, but it isn’t there. The bridge seems to be growing smaller as I run faster.
I can hear the footsteps gaining on me. I don’t dare look back. It will only slow me down. I push myself harder. Go faster! I scream at myself. My therapist always tells me to not get mad at myself. It will only make the situation worse. I let those thoughts go and let my survival instincts take control. I am running faster than I ever have before; chest burning, eyes watering.
I begin to book it across the street, hoping to throw the perpetrator off.
“Just leave me alone!” I scream into the darkness, refusing to look back.
As I get close to the opposite sidewalk, bright lights blind me. I freeze, everything locking up, paralyzed. I feel the air shift and get ready for the impact, knowing I will not be able to move in time. I feel myself fading. The darkness takes over, but not before I hear that awful pounding. They never stopped following me...
As I awaken, I’m staring at my closed eyelids, the sun filtering through to give them a red hue. I blinked a few times and look at my surroundings. Same as always. Bare white walls, ugly knock-off paintings. I’m never going to wake up anywhere else, I think to myself. Why hope for something that’s never going to come? Remembering my dream from last night, I touch my nose, hoping I hadn’t banged it in my sleep. Always the same dream. Never an actual broken nose.
I rise out of bed, placing my bare feet in my red slippers. The same shade that adorns my favorite pajamas I’m currently wearing. I use the bathroom, then head to the hallway.
“Good morning, Jane,” I greet the nurse who is on duty every morning.
“Good morning, Scarlett. Here you are,” she smiles politely, stretching both arms out to me. I  take the pills and the paper cup of water she offers. I get them down, thank her, and head to the Briarwood Sanitorium activity room to start my day.