Forever this Shade

Runaway

~ Laia ~
When I awake, I find myself lying on my bed at home in the clothes I wore yesterday. My throat is uncomfortably dry and sore from screaming. Bruises and cuts that I endured from the struggling against the chains that had bound me, smother my arms and legs. I am wrecked. I run my hands through my knotted hair and pull out the hair tie, letting it flow loosely over my shoulders. I beak down, cupping my face in my bloodstained hands.
A crack in the wall lets in a pale, unhealthy light. It creeps over to my bed slowly as time passes.
Eventually I gather myself together and get to my feet. I make my bed, brushing down the patch that's wet from tears. I can't let this control me. I need to push through this. I have a few hours still don't I? I will run. I will runaway. If they catch me, then they catch me. I'm a dead girl away. If they don't catch me, I'm free.
I grab my school bag and stuff a change of clothes, a water bottle and a small packet of nuts in it. I would pack more lightly, but I don't know where I'm going. So it's better safe than sorry.
I walk out with my black hoodie thrown over my face, only my chin can be seen. I bend down and slip my apartment key under the doormat. I'll never need that key ever again, whether I live or die, I won't be coming back home.
My heart drops into my stomach the second I step outside. It feels so weird.
"Here I go," I whisper. "There's no turning back now."
The streets are empty at this hour. It's a good thing in one way, in another a very unfortunate thing. I stick to the shadows as much as possible but I often find myself walking in the grey pale light.
As dawn becomes day, blacks begin to pour into the streets, carrying out their daily work. Soon, someone will find I am missing. They may not suspect I'm running away because most blacks would rather die than do so, that's why they don't hold us captive before execution.
In the distance, I manage to make out the dark outline of The Gate. Tall, deformed figures guard its ebony bars. Their narrow, hollow eyes are blacker than the long robes that fall stiffly from their shoulders. Their heads turn whenever they sense motion, all of their actions perfectly in sync. I have never noticed just how terrifying they look. They used to be greys. They are known as outcasts, found in both the company of whites and of blacks. The leaders of our world hunt down the ones found in our world and torture them to the point were they finally give in to serving them. Then they give them the jobs no one wants... gate keepers, bathroom cleaners, etc. It's a totally unfair process and I don't agree with it what-so-ever. But we can't argue. The luxuries of democracy the whites endure are completely foreign to us.
I pull my hood over my head and walk a little faster. The sun has completely risen now and is fully visible. The air is cold but the sun is scorching. It gives my world a strange red glow. Even after all of these years living here, I still can't get used to it's unhealthy presence.
I turn a corner, making my way through a dark alley. My jog turns into a run. I try to remain light footed.
I brush past a beggar's hand and the cries of young greys ring in my ears. They are all scared of me. The realisation makes me stop in my tracks. Where will I go? What will happen to me? Will I become a grey? Despite my fear, I manage to brush away the thought.
Finally, I come to the fence. Barbed wire is looped around the top, leaning in to keep us in. I'm hopeless.
I have to find another way. But as I turn to go back into the alley, I notice a hole in the fence out of the corner of my eye. I spin around in awe. What in the world? A rectangular piece of wire had been cut out of its place, leaving a large gap leading to the Other World.
But that's not all. Three figures stand behind the fence, one holding a blue lighter at the edge of the hole. The sheet of wire lies at his feet. But the thing that really intrigues me is the taller boy who'd stopped mid way stepping through the hole. They all gape at me with mixed emotions of fear, confusion and... something else.
Suddenly I find myself stumbling back in horror. The taller boy... is the boy at the bridge...