Wicked Hunger Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

Stories

Having my back turned toward the empty parking lot as I lock up the dance studio is slightly unnerving. In the back of my mind, I know there’s nothing to fear, but I still turn the key quickly and spin around to face the approaching darkness.

I hold myself close to the door, waiting for the feeling to leave me. Several minutes pass before I realize it isn’t going away. I can either stand here all night, or start walking. It’s with a show of false bravery that I take a step forward. As I walk away from the dance studio, I know I’m being silly. My brother, Zander, is constantly telling me that fear is a weakness. I know how to defend myself.

Defending myself isn’t the problem. Controlling myself is.

The walk to my grandma’s house where Zander and I have been living for the past year is a good five miles away. I was supposed to ask Grandma to pick me up when Zander said he couldn’t, but I thought some time alone sounded better. At least, at the time, it sounded like a good idea. Now, I’m not so sure that a fifteen-year-old girl walking home alone at night is smart at all. It only invites trouble. The fading sun seems to retreat faster than normal. Within ten minutes, I am left skulking along the streets of Albuquerque in the full black of night. My pace quickens.

I know the way home, but in the darkness I feel my courage fizzle. I am practically running past shops with my feet set in the direction of the relative safety of my neighborhood, taking any shortcut available to get me home faster. I’m not the only one out on the streets. Average looking people mill about on the sidewalks, but I keep my distance.

Eyes down, I run. I’m only two blocks away from the cramped little neighborhood where Grandma has lived for twenty years. I am almost there when I lurch to a stop in front of a dank alley filled with scuffling noises and pain.

An unsettled feeling rises in the center of my body. I try to take another step, to get away, but I can’t. A muffled scream sends another shot of wretched pain shooting through the air. It’s too much to resist.

Dance bag abandoned, tennis shoes slapping against asphalt, my body powers down the alley independent of rational thought. Fragile bones snap and howls of pain erupt. Delicious satisfaction rushes in as agony fills the damp alley. Everything else is forgotten. 

The sting of a knife pierces my thigh, the burst of pain only continuing the frenzy. Blood splatters, knuckles crack, flesh breaks. Nothing else exists in that moment.

“Hey!” someone yells out.

Suddenly, without warning, the space around me is empty. I stumble up to my feet in search of the three chollo gangsters who were just on top of me. They are racing out of the alley, with only one looking back with a terrified expression before darting around the corner.

Stunned, confused, I stand up covered in blood and bruises. My eyes flit around for an explanation, landing on a caramel-haired teen with a cell phone in his hand. I think he tries to say something to me. I watch his lips move without comprehending. The only rational thought I have is that he’s holding my ballet bag. Then, I hear the word police slip past his lips. In a panic, I snatch my bag out of his hand and run.

***

Laney’s elbow knocks into my head as she tries to slide into the seat next to me. The contact sends my hair into my face, and applesauce sloshing off her tray to land in a cold splat on my bare thigh. I jump in surprise.

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