The one other person she had cherished was Lucinda. One of her foster moms. One of the few really good ones. Only Lucinda was more like a granny than a mother. She could still recall how standoffish she had been to her foster mom for the first couple of months. Lucinda had given her, her space. The only thing she had insisted on was that they ate dinner together every night. She’d thrived under the woman’s care. One day Lucinda became ill and three months later she was dead. It had been a particularly aggressive cancer.

Julie swallowed down a lump that formed in her throat. She still missed that woman.

“Hey!” Julie cried. “Stop!” She shrieked, sprinting after the punk in the hoodie. After an hour of lugging the thing, her arm felt dead and her legs didn’t feel much better. Thing was, there wasn’t anything of real value in there.

Still, that was it. All of it. Her clothes. Her shoes. Her life. Most of it was in that bag. The last few bits and pieces were in the backpack on her back. Everything else was in there.

The guy was much faster than her, but she was determined. Julie picked up speed. A low growl of anger and frustration was torn from her. Her arms pumped at her sides and her lungs burned. She wanted to shout at him again but she didn’t have the strength to both run and call out.

Bastard.

Little asshole.

At first he pulled away from her. Now she was keeping up with him. Pretty soon, the tables were going to turn and then he’d be sorry, he’d be worse than sorry. Julie ignored the voice inside her that begged her to stop. She ignored her fatigued muscles. She ignored every thing and… tripped.

No.

Julie tried to right herself. She staggered. For a moment there it felt like she might just be able to stay upright, then she plummeted down, down. The pavement raced to meet her. Make that the solid edge of the pavement sprinted towards her. She tried to twist away. There was blinding pain as her head hit hard. Almost immediately, darkness descended.

Chapter 3

Julie awoke to the sound of something vibrating. A knocking noise. It was loud. Her body hurt. Oh god, her head hurt even more. She opened her eyes and moaned, putting a hand to her forehead.

The noise. The knocking sound. It was her teeth chattering. She was cold. Freezing, bloody cold. It wasn’t the worst of her worries. She couldn’t see. Not a thing. Panic welled up but she pushed it down. The pain in her head was making it hard to think.