The stranger's words echoed in her head long after he left the alley.
"You're not very good at stealing."
He hadn't chased her. He hadn't shouted. He had simply spoken, like someone delivering a warning—and then disappeared.
Luna sat in the dirt for what felt like hours, knees drawn to her chest. Her stomach no longer screamed, but her heart did. Shame clung to her like another layer of skin. She thought of her mother—the woman she had left behind—and wondered if she would even recognize her now. A thief. A broken girl hiding in alleyways.
But there was no going back.
When the first drops of rain began to fall, she forced herself up. Hastings was alive with movement, lights flickering in the wet streets, the smell of smoke and fried food mixing with the metallic scent of rain. People hurried past her with umbrellas and coats, their lives untouched by the shadow she lived in.
She pulled her arms around herself and began to walk.
Her body still ached from the wounds she'd carried. Every step reminded her of what she had endured in that abandoned building. Her mind tried to push it away, but the memories returned uninvited—the sound of belts, the smell of sweat, the crushing weight of bodies. Her breath quickened, and before she knew it, she was pressed against a wall, trembling, her hands over her ears.
"Stop. Stop. It's over. You're alive."
But was she really?
Sometimes it felt like she had died that night and something else had crawled into her body. The girl who once laughed, who once dreamed of leaving her mother's house to start fresh—she was gone. In her place was someone who didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Someone who couldn't even look in a mirror without flinching.
She hated that girl.
And yet, she had no choice but to live as her.
Luna wandered until her legs gave out, eventually finding a spot beneath a rusted fire escape. It wasn't shelter, not really, but it kept the rain from soaking her completely. She wrapped her arms around her knees, listening to the city's hum.
She thought about what the faceless guardian had told her. "Life will demand everything from you." At the time, she had thought it was some cruel prophecy. Now she wondered if it was simply the truth.
Because life was already taking.
It had taken her innocence.
Her safety.
Her pride.
And now, piece by piece, it was taking her humanity.
Her stomach turned at the thought of stealing again—but another part of her whispered that she would have to. That survival was worth more than morals.
She hated that voice.
But she couldn't silence it.
The rain eased into a drizzle. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed. Luna tilted her head back and let the drops hit her face. The water was cold, but it felt almost cleansing. Almost.
For a brief second, she imagined herself as someone else. Not Luna, the runaway. Not Luna, the victim. Just a girl, nameless, faceless, starting over.
But reality came crashing back with the sound of footsteps.
Her heart leapt. She shrank deeper into the shadows, every muscle tense. Two men passed the mouth of the alley, drunk and laughing. Their laughter made her stomach knot. For a moment, she was back in that room, trapped, helpless. Her nails dug into her skin until they left marks.
Only when their voices faded did she release her breath.
She couldn't live like this—jumping at every sound, drowning in memories. If she was going to survive Hastings, if she was going to prove to the world that she wasn't useless, then she had to change.
She had to become harder. Colder. Smarter.
And that thought terrified her even more than the hunger.
As the city settled into silence, Luna whispered to herself:
"I won't die here. I can't die here. If the world wants to break me again, it will have to fight harder."
Her voice was small, shaky—but it was hers.
For the first time since she had fled her mother's house, Luna didn't feel like a shadow. She felt like a flame. Small, fragile, flickering—but alive.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.