Autumn-Fyre

Jak’s eyes opened groggily to see a familiar silhouette moving just a few feet in front of him. His head felt heavy, as if it were filled with water, and as he lifted it his surroundings came into clarity. He was in a soft bed, a golden pool of light filtered through a window and onto the wooden floor, and the shape he’d noticed first thing was standing in a room separated by a dingy partition across from where he lay. Tawniey. The name fell from his mouth in a tired rasp without Jak’s full intention, and the girl turned as if expecting she’d only imagined it. Her eyes widened, and she was by his side in a moment, a

Three gunshots. Tawniey lurched up. She scrambled for her side, struggling against her restraints-- groping blindly for the warm, wet fabric that she knew she would find. But she didn’t. The flesh beneath her hand was whole and sound. As her vision came into focus, she realized that she was not looking up at the gunmetal skies of Haven city, but the dingy gray of her apartment walls. It wasn’t real. It never was. The calendar Kendryk had given her was pinned to the wall at the foot of her bed: a silent reminder of how much she had overcome, and how long she had endured. The series of bold scribbles in thick black marker led her