Chapter 1 The Escape

"I'm not afraid. I can do this."

Sylvia was sweating, panicking like a legion of ants crawled up her skin while she lay stiff in bed. Only, it wasn't ants but a creeping sense of anxiety. Her heart pounded louder with each footstep of Sister Agnes echoing through the hallway.

'Can't she walk faster? It's not like she's old or something,' she grumbled in her thoughts. But Sylvia knew this was just her panic talking.

"She never checks inside the rooms," she mumbled to herself. "Just the hallway, then straight to bed."

She had spent the past few nights memorizing the nun's routine, staying up much later than the other girls in her dorm, carefully planning her escape. Even so, her senses spiked when the beam of Sister Agnes' flashlight swept beneath the door.

Sylvia held her breath, fingers tightening around the sack in her arms. Inside, it held everything she had in the world-a few clothes and half a loaf of stale bread. Not much, but enough to survive.

"Just a few more seconds," she whispered. "Just a few more seconds, and you'll be free."

The light slowly faded from the gap underneath the door, with the sound of the nun's footsteps growing distant. Then, finally, a door creaked shut, and silence settled over the orphanage. Sylvia exhaled shakily, forcing her body to move . . . It was now or never.

Her gaze darted to the window-the first obstacle in her escape. It was slightly open, letting in the cool night air, thick with the scent of damp earth and leaves. The other girls were all still sleeping deeply, their quiet breaths filling the dormitory-except for Rachel and Dorcas, who snored like the greedy pigs they were.

They alone would miss her. Without her, who else would they have to torment?

"No one here will miss me," she told herself quietly.

She slipped off her bed and crept toward the window, her bare feet making no sound on the cold wooden floor. The old hinges groaned softly as she pushed it wider. Sylvia froze. Waited. No one stirred.

'I can do this,' she thought, even as her chest tightened.

The orphanage hadn't been home for a long time-not since Sister Agnes doubled down on her strict rules after the board's last inspection. Warm meals had turned to watery soup, and the little kindness Sylvia once remembered had been replaced with cold stares and sharp words.

But the final straw had come just days ago.

Marilyn-her closest friend, the girl she had practically grown up with-was adopted. Just like that, gone. Sylvia had always known adoption was the goal, the dream every child was supposed to hope for. But Marilyn leaving had torn something inside her.

At first, she tried to pretend it didn't matter. But everything changed after that. Rachel and Dorcas, the two oldest girls in the orphanage, turned on her. They had always been cruel in passing, throwing sharp words her way, but now they had a new target-someone alone, someone too angry to bother making new friends.

It started small. Taking her blanket when she wasn't looking. Knocking over her bowl at breakfast and laughing when she had to clean up the mess. Then it got worse-whispers behind her back, lies to the nuns, sharp pinches and elbow jabs when no one was watching.

Sylvia reported them, but it only made things worse. The nuns barely paid attention, dismissing her complaints as childish bickering. And then Sister Agnes, the one person she had hoped would listen, scolded her instead.

"How do you expect to get adopted with such poor behavior?" the nun had said, shaking her head in disappointment.

Sylvia had stood there, fists clenched, biting back the words she wanted to scream. That was the moment she knew she wasn't going to wait around, hoping to be chosen by some stranger. She was going to leave. On her own terms.

Sylvia climbed onto the ledge, gripping the frame. The drop was far, and the ground below glistened with mud from the rain. Her knees wobbled, but she bit her lip and jumped.

The impact jarred her legs, sending a shock up her spine, but she didn't stop. She scrambled to her feet, the sack pressed to her chest, and ran. The gate was ahead, the iron bars rusted and bent just enough for her to squeeze through.

"Sylvia!"

Her name cut through the darkness. Sister Agnes!

She didn't look back. Her breathing was ragged as she pushed through the gap in the gate, the metal scraping her arms. The cold air stung her lungs, but she kept running, her bare feet slapping against the wet pavement.

Freedom.

~•~

Sylvia huddled under a crumbling brick wall, holding her sack tightly to her chest. The rain had stopped, but her clothes were soaked, clinging to her thin frame. Her stomach growled. The piece of bread she'd packed was long gone.

She had walked all night, hiding in alleys and under bridges. The city was bigger than she imagined, louder too. Every sound made her jump-the rumble of a passing car, the chatter of strangers, the occasional shout in the distance.

She was terrified. And yet, for the first time in her life, she wasn't trapped.

Sylvia rubbed her arms, shivering as the wind bit at her skin. Across the street, a vendor was setting up a small stall, arranging loaves of bread. The smell wafted toward her, making her stomach ache.

Her eyes darted around, scanning for anyone watching. Slowly, she inched closer, her gaze fixed on the vendor's hands as he placed a basket of rolls on the counter.

"Hey!"

Sylvia's heart jumped. She spun around, ready to run, but a boy about her age stepped out from the shadows. He was scrawny, his clothes too big for his small frame, but his dark eyes gleamed with mischief.

"You're terrible at stealing," he said, grinning.

Sylvia clenched her fists. "I wasn't-"

"Relax," he said, holding up his hands. "You look hungry. Follow me."

She hesitated. Her instincts screamed not to trust him, but her hunger won out. She followed him down a narrow alley, her steps cautious.

He stopped near a cart piled with vegetables. "Watch this," he whispered, slipping a potato from the pile when the vendor turned away.

Sylvia watched, wide-eyed, as he handed it to her. "Your turn."

She shook her head.

"Suit yourself." He tossed the potato in the air, catching it with a smirk. "You'll starve out here if you don't learn how to play the game."

Sylvia bit her lip, her pride warring with her hunger. Finally, she nodded.

"Good," the boy said. "I'm Danny, by the way."

That night, Sylvia sat in an abandoned alley, nibbling on the small stash of food Danny had helped her gather. She had no idea where she was or what tomorrow would bring, but she made a silent vow:

She would survive. No matter what it took.