She panted as she ran speedily across the street, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pounding of heavy boots echoed behind her. The armed policemen chased her like she was a deadly fugitive, not just a girl with a bag and desperation
Her chest rose and fell violently, the strap of her bag looped around her neck, flailing wildly as it bounced against her chest with every frantic step.
But luck was not on her side.
Her foot caught on a jagged stone embedded in the pavement, and she tumbled forward, hitting the ground hard. A sharp pain sliced through her arm as she landed, scraping skin and bruising bone
"Ah!" she winced, clutching her arm as the pain niggled at her nerves like needles under the skin.
The sounds behind her reminded her she didn't have time to feel pain. The cops were gaining on her. Heart lurching in her chest, she scrambled to her feet, determined to flee—but a bullet sliced through the air just inches above her head.
She froze.
"Don't move!" a voice barked from behind.
"Hands in the air!"
"Now!"
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed back panic. Slowly, she raised her hands, her lips pressing into a thin line. She could hear their footsteps approaching steady, purposeful, threatening.
"Interlock your fingers behind your head and get on your knees!" another officer commanded.
She could feel the intensity of their glares, the sharpness of their weapons aimed at her back like daggers. Slowly, she intertwined her fingers and lowered herself to her knees, the gravel biting into her skin.
"I haven't done anything wrong," Octavia said, her voice hoarse and trembling but edged with defiance.
"Get on your knees, kid! Now!" one of them yelled again, though she was already there.
"Just let me go," she growled under her breath. "I don't wanna hurt anyone."
The officers exchanged glances, A girl like her young, ragged, barely more than a teenager threatening them? Ridiculous.
"Get her bag. Quick!" the chief barked, and one of the men obeyed, rushing toward her with outstretched hands.
But Octavia's heart thundered with resolve. She wasn't letting go. Not of the bag. Not of the money inside it. Not after everything she'd been through.
Yes, she had stolen. But that money was survival. And she wasn't about to let it go.
"I told you…" she muttered, a growl rising in her throat just as the officer reached for the strap, "...to let me go."
In a blink, her head snapped up and a violent gust of invisible wind surged from her like a wave.
The officer was hurled backwards as though struck by a truck, his scream cut short by the hard, grassy earth he landed on. He lay sprawled, unmoving, unconscious.
The remaining officers stared, dumbfounded, disbelief widening their eyes.
They cocked their guns and aimed at her again.
But it was too late.
Another surge of energy rippled through the air and in an instant, they too were swept off their feet and slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force.
They groaned in pain, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
Octavia wiped the blood from her nostrils with the back of her hand, the telltale price of her gift. She didn't have much time. Rising to her feet, she bolted once more into the night.
She couldn't stop the faint smile that tugged at her lips as she clutched the bag to her chest.
She'd done it.
The money was safe. And she needed it more than anyone could ever understand.
Her next stop was vital more important than anything else. It was where everything would begin. Or end.
When she reached the train station, she didn't hesitate. She booked a ticket for the next departure, choosing the last seat at the back of the car.
She liked the shadows. Preferred the quiet. The solitude. It was the only place the noise in her head seemed to hush.
Yes, Octavia was quiet. But the kind of quiet that hides a storm.
Push her too far, and you'd learn too late that silence could be deadly.
As the train rumbled forward, carrying her toward destiny, she leaned back in her seat, eyes fixed on the darkness outside.
There was no turning back now.