Cozen

Prologue

Prologue

She dropped the can of red spray paint. It clattered to the ground at her feet, a small cloud of dust arising in its wake. The label was faded, though it didn't make much of a difference. She had finished.

The sirens, which were making her ears ring, traveled closer and closer down the deserted street. Vibrant blue and fiery red danced across the walls of the worn buildings, highlighting their imperfections.

"Damn, it's the fuzz!" One of her gang members, Jasper, shouted. His voice rang out over the sirens. "Let's split!"

All four of the other teens scattered in all directions, either dropping the spray cans or shoving them in their bags, ditching the entire scene they had created. Leaving behind the creative blend of colors and words, each of them having done their own piece for society to see. So, as some of the others had done, she abandoned her spray paint, taking off down the dark street.

The cracks, broken windows, and worn bricks, all called the outskirts of Boston their home. Every withered soul that wondered the streets knew of her, or more accurately, her passion. None had seen her face, besides the police of course, but all knew her story.

Her feet padded against the cold, cracked pavement at an expeditious pace, causing gravel to fly in all directions. Her petite frame slipped in and out of the growing shadows, casting a dark sheen over her face, which was mask of adrenalin. She raced down the empty street, faster, faster. Her vision was a blur anyway, so she closed her eyes, letting her feet guide her body. While breathing in the gasoline tainted air and hearing the wind roar in her ears, she felt the thrill of danger and rebellion rushing through her veins.

She skidded to a stop as a police car veered into her path, turning on her heel impulsively. She felt the gravel grind under her studded black boots and didn't miss a beat as she sprinted in the other direction, finding herself in an alleyway. She ran forward, aiming to escape, but there was a cold, hard chain link fence that blocked her path. She was trapped.

Desperate in need of an escape, she searched for a way out. The ground was littered with rotten food that was spilling from a dumpster and the reminiscence of broken bottles scattered the alley floor. She looked up, taking in the two gloomy, abandoned apartment buildings. Rusty, ancient looking fire escapes winded up the sides of the buildings.

Her hand connected with the rough metal, a coppery powder sticking to them as she gave herself a boost, kicking the dumpster and propelling herself up. She pulled with all her strength, her muscles burning a terrible pain, and hoisted her body onto the run-down platform. Her ragged breath came out in puffs, leaving behind white mist as it connected with the cool, late September air.

Suddenly, the unstable platform shuddered beneath her feet, a screech of metal against brick pierced through the night. It dropped on one side, its old hinges giving way under the slight weight she applied to it, crumbling into copper dust. She fell to one side, grasping at the weak supports, but her attempts came to no avail and she slid down the platform.

Slipping down, she landed gracefully on the ground and rolled swiftly out the way as the entire platform came the crashing to the muck of the alley floor. I cloud of orange exploded into the air and her hands itched for a paint brush to capture the colors contrasting before her eyes. Unfortunately, that was not the time, nor place. The wailing sirens had grown close and two police cars had positioned themselves at the alley's entry. She only had one choice.

She had to go over the chain link fence.

Turning around quickly, she leaped for the fence. Gripping the rough, twisted metal with both hands, her feet found holds with ease. She had practiced this using her own fence that surrounded the home she shared with her father. She had prepared for this.