Graffiti Girl | MILES MORALES

i.

❝𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏!❞

Taryn's sneakers smack against the sidewalk as she bolts, tugging her black hood up and over her head so her face is shielded. She avoids dumpsters and leaps over boxes lying in the alley. She doesn't look back once, knowing that it'll only slow her down.

Lights from flashlights shine on her back and the walls on each side of her as she sprints. A few shouts echo down the alleyway.

They're getting closer.

Taryn pushes over a group of three trash barrels and they clatter on the ground, spilling their contents in the path of her pursuers.

The end of the alley nears. Her heart rate speeds up as her legs do and she doesn't even look both ways—or even one way—before she runs straight across the road with cars zooming by at fatal speeds. If she got hit, she'd be killed instantly.

More shouts from behind as she runs across the flat road, narrowly dodging a sleek black car. The driver honks his horn but never slows.

Once Taryn's safely on the other side of the road, she takes off down another alley. Blue and red lights flash on the buildings surrounding her.

She skids as she turns a sharp corner, her heart beats loudly in her ears. Usually she's lost them by now.

"Damn," Taryn mutters, breathless as her legs continue to pump with adrenaline. "Why are they so persistent tonight?"

She turns another corner, almost dropping the full backpack slung over her shoulders, and stumbles to a stop as she stares up in panic at the fence before her. Everything pauses for a moment. A string of curses run through her mind as she takes in this unexpected situation. She knows these alleys like the back of her hand, stuff like this isn't supposed to happen. The fence must've been a new installment. The low streetlights glint off the shiny metal like the moon on water, only less poetic.

Nearing footfalls draws her back into reality. She hits her forehead with her palm and murmurs, "Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink," to herself as she assets the situation. Her eyes narrow in on a window ledge up where the chain-link fence ends. Perfect.

Flashlights shine on her once more and the sirens pierce the semi-peaceful New York night. Red and blue flash the brick buildings and the fence. She doesn't waste any more time before jumping onto the fence and climbing it all the way to the top. Instead of just hopping down to the ground on the other side, she heaves herself up onto the window ledge.

"Get down from there!" A police officer shouts.

Taryn ignores the threat and jumps upwards, reaching for the window ledge above the one she's currently balancing on. Her fingers slide before gripping on the ledge, her short fingernails scraping against the stone. In no time she's scaling the wall of the building like a monkey.

"Come down with your hands up!" comes another shout from below.

She climbs higher.

"We're serious! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"

She rolls her eyes and continues her climb. It's not like she is inexperienced; she does it almost every weekend. These people need to relax and let her concentrate. If anything, it'd be their fault if she plummeted to her death.

The shouts and warnings grow more distant as she heaves her legs one at a time over the side of the roof. Once Taryn's feet safely hit the top, she doesn't stop to catch her breath—she just continues to run. She hears the sirens from below, but they don't faze her anymore. She knows that she got away. As she realizes this, a grin slowly forms on her face and a small laugh escapes her lips.