Clouded

Chapter 1: Smoke and Shadows

The sound of sirens blends with the low thrum of life outside; it's a song Alani has grown up with, the unholy lullaby of her corner of Missouri. Seventeen years old and sharp as broken glass, she leans out her window, eyes half-lidded as she lets smoke curl from her lips, drifting lazily into the twilight sky. The crack of gunfire in the distance is nothing new; it's almost like punctuation to her thoughts. Another life cut short, another name whispered in grief tomorrow. But Alani knows how to keep her edges blunt—roll, light, inhale, exhale. It's the only rhythm that keeps her steady.

Her room is a small slice of worn-down comfort: posters peeling off the walls, clothes draped over a chair that's never been sat in, and the old mixtape her dad made before life changed. It's scratched, a few songs skipping like a heartbeat on the edge of panic, but she listens to it anyway. Alani's younger brother, Jamal, is asleep in the next room, his small body curled under a blanket too thin for winter. Mama works the night shift at the clinic, coming home with tired eyes and stories she never tells. Alani knows better than to ask.

The world outside their third-floor apartment window is alive with whispers. Miss Gerty, who's lived down the hall since Alani was a baby, shuffles by with her cane and a warning look—"Keep your head low, child." The man on the corner, Big Mike, nods in her direction, his pit bull's chain rattling in the early dusk. On her street, loyalty can be both a blessing and a chain.

Sometimes, Alani meets up with Sasha, whose bright laugh echoes like a promise, and Trey, who's all swagger and heavy words. But tonight, they're doing their own thing, so Alani sticks to her routine: a blunt rolled with practiced fingers, headphones on, eyes scanning the familiar cracks in the ceiling. The city outside hums with danger, but in these moments, she is untouchable