The damp air carries the scent of rot. The canal by my side looks thick, more like seaweed-coloured oil than water. Graffiti marks the bridge I pass under - tags, burn marks and dirt cover the wall. The ripples reflect on the concrete above my head.
Around me tower blocks loom, and grey is everywhere. I feel it like a cage. My feet crunch on the path, otherwise, the world is silent, the air still. I'd snuck out while everyone was still asleep. I'm not sure I can avoid my parents noticing me gone, but I couldn't risk waiting any longer. I don't trust Davey Taggart and now Leon knows who I am, there's even more danger. I didn't trust that I could move through the city alone, without eyes on me, so I'd left whilst the sun was still low. The cool air is pleasant against my skin.
My large coat covers the wire and straps of my battery pack, but mainly I'm wearing it to keep my head low. Every now and again, I glance down at my phone, trying to match the surrounding area with what I see on the screen - photos of my wall covered with Owen's own photos.
I knew it was a long shot. But I'd seen enough photos of Owen around these canals whilst I'd been searching for him to know he was connected to this place. It mattered to him. And if I was alone like he was, and needed to hide, I'd go somewhere I knew. Somewhere I felt connected to.
There are warehouses up ahead, separated from the path alongside the canal by an intimidating-looking metal fence. Row after row of small storage buildings, most decrepit and abandoned. Windows smashed, some boarded up. Enough graffiti to let me know there was a way in somehow. Something about this place seems to chime a note of recognition. I stop, glancing around again - on the wall on the opposite side of the canal, I see it. The graffiti from Owen's photo.
My chest tightens. This is the place.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and make my way closer to the fence. There's no obvious way in, so I follow the fence around the circumference of the building. I peer in through the gaps, but there's no life inside. All the warehouses look barren. Off the path, the land is overgrown. Nettles scratch at my skin and I stumble over empty beer cans.
I've grown hot, and frustrated by the time I find the broken slats in the fence. The gap is narrow, but after looking around to check no one is nearby, I duck down and slip inside. My coat catches on the broken edge. Swearing under my breath, I tug on the fabric. My feet slip in the mud and I stumble, tumbling onto the ground and hearing my coat tear. My hands break my fall, and I feel my palms burn as they scrape against the ground. I fall back on my hunches and brush off the dirt from my clothes. Ignoring the throbbing and grit digging into the skin of my hands.
Slowly, I drag my body up and look around. The sunrise is climbing higher in the distance, golden light shimmering across the broken glass and muddy puddles. There are dozens of warehouses. Each a mirror image of the next, some barely more than the skeletal remains of their former structure. I make my way to the nearest building, but in truth, I have no idea what I'm looking for. Though the space looks deserted, I can't be certain there aren't alarms or security of some kind. I can't risk searching each one without drawing attention to myself, and Owen could stay in any of them without leaving any evidence.
Hell... he could also be in none of them.
I hear the crunch of grass behind me and quickly rush to the nearest gap between buildings. Flattening my back against the wall, wetness from the puddle I'm standing in soaking into my jeans. I'm breathing hard, the cold rough stone scraping my cheek.
"Do you see her?" Leon's voice. My body stills.
"No."
"She's here. And if she's here, he has to be."
Slowly, I lean forward, peering out, and I see Leon and two more men. They're dressed casually in tracksuits. It doesn't suit Leon. He looks aged and awkward in clothes designed for a younger man.
"Find her now!" He bellows. The other two shoot each other a look, but then, fighting back scowls, they move away from the smaller man and fan out. Clutching the straps of my bag, I peer around. Backwards is a dead end, just a brick wall and bins. But Leon is still lingering in front of me, smoking and tapping on his phone. As I twist back, my bag slaps against the wall. Leon's eyes snap to the gap I'm standing in. Dropping his cigarette, he rushes forward. I storm to the back, panic shooting through my body. I take in the mass of wheelie bins and boxes. It's nearly as tall as me, but I climb up onto the nearest bin. The move burns almost immediately in my muscles, my chest tight.
"Hey!" Leon has spotted me. Fuelled by fear, I throw myself over the brick wall, my legs tangling in barbed wire, as I try to drop over the other side. Leon is climbing the bin, reaching for my legs. I scream and kick him, my heel connecting with his jaw. He slips off the bin and lands awkwardly on a pile of scattered boxes and wooden pallets. He bursts into a barking cough as the air is knocked from his lungs.
Closing my eyes and muttering under my breath, I slip down to the edge, my legs dangling down the wall. The wall is more than double my height. The ground seems miles down, with nothing but concrete to break my fall. I hear the commotion behind me, Leon calling for his men, the blistering sound of their footsteps getting louder. Breathing hard, I turn around. With my fingers still gripping the wall, I let myself drop as far as I can without letting go. I hear the sounds of clambering on the other side of the wall and know I'm out of time. I let myself fall. Everything slows down as the ground rushes to meet me. I land awkwardly, my ankle collapsing under me. I cry out and try to pull myself up.
Suddenly, a hand grips mine. Pulls me to my feet.
"Follow me. Now!" He barks, angrily. I don't argue. I let myself be pulled up and dragged down a series of narrow alleyways that connect the space behind the warehouses. The sound of Leon and his men's yells grows fainter as we move deeper in and out of the buildings. It's a labyrinth of concrete and smashed windows, kicked-in doors and burnt-out rooms. Birds squawk and flap as we disturb their slumber in the rotten ceilings above us. Finally, I'm pulled through a thick metal door and into a space so dark I feel like I've been dragged into midnight. I'm coughing hard, and my ankle is throbbing. My hands go to my liquid knees as he lets me go, and I hear a series of locks click on the door. The air is cold and moist here. I can tell we're in a cavernous space, the main storage area of whatever warehouse we're in.
"I think we're OK. I think we lost them." I don't respond. I'm too busy trying to find my breath and recover some sense. But before I can, my hand is gripped again and I'm pulled through the space until we're walking through another door and into what looks like the remains of an office. He shuts the door behind us. The room is lit via cracks in the wooden boards on the window, dust floats in the stagnant air. I sink onto a faded and dusty settee, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. I'm still coughing hard, my lungs burning. My sweat is cold against my forehead.
He moves to the window. His dark shape covers the light as he glances outside.
"I don't think they can find us here. We're safe."
He turns, leaning back against the sill.
I had spent so much time looking for Owen - I hadn't really thought much about how I'd feel when I saw him. I hadn't seen him since the night he ended us. I expect my anger to overtake me, but it doesn't. Everything in me tightens and weeks of anger, fear and confusion seem to drop away. Owen looks terrible. Dark rings hang under his eyes. His t-shirt is grubby, and I suspect he's been wearing the same one for days. His skin is pale even for him, and his hair has grown long and is messily tucked behind his ears.
He also looks so perfect it makes my heart ache. I don't want to have missed him, but I have. And seeing him now, I realise just how much.
The golden light of dawn picks up the amber in his dark eyes and the soft fullness of his mouth. The dust turns to glitter as it hovers around him. I remember his kiss, his sardonic smile, the dark music of his laugh. I remember it all.
He takes a step towards me.
And then it all comes back. All the anger, all the bitterness. So much rage I'm overwhelmed with it. I burn with it. I stand up, my fists clenched at my sides. The sudden move has lights dancing before my eyes. He has the good sense to flinch just a little.
"What the hell, Owen!" I yell, my throat burning. He folds his arms across his chest and says nothing, just gazes at me. The silence lingers on. Then his lips break into the smallest of smiles.
"Hi, beautiful."