The Dark and Hollow Places Read Online Free PDF Page B

onebreath. But standing here in the Neverlands I can’t feel her. There’s too much despair to pick out that of one girl.
    I cross a rickety bridge and it bucks under my feet with the force of someone else’s weight. The ropes creak and protest as another person leans against them for support. I pull the knife from my pocket and pick up my pace, skirting an abandoned roof garden and scurrying over another bridge. This is not the place to run into a stranger—no good can possibly come of it.
    But the steps keep following me, gaining ground in time with my heartbeats. Keeping my head ducked low, I round the corner of a storage shed and glance back over my shoulder. The person following me is tall and broad, loose clothes draped over his lanky frame and face wrapped in shadows. His hands tense by his sides.
    I press my lips together and take a deep breath. To my left shouts ring out from a broken window, people yelling and screaming at each other, and I use the distraction to start running. In my mind I see a crude map of the Neverlands, the pattern of bridges connecting the buildings, the fire escapes leading down to the streets and the places that are too dangerous to venture into.
    Just as I’m scampering across a wide low roof another form materializes out of the dark. “Hey, what’s the rush?” he asks, starting toward me with a leer on his face.
    I feel so stupid for being here at night. For thinking I could be invisible. In the old days I was always safe enough in the Neverlands—it was the place for people like me: outcasts, smugglers, the desperate people who lived on the fringes of the Dark City.
    Sure, I’d get propositioned, but my scars have always keptmost people away. Things have been changing too fast and I’ve refused to notice that it’s become so dangerous here, even for me.
    The man coming toward me whistles to someone and suddenly there are three men falling into step, one of them blocking the bridge on the other side of the roof, trapping me.
    The night suddenly feels like it wants to swallow me whole. I swipe my knife widely, trying to cut a clear space between us.
    I curse myself for not having left the island this afternoon. I should have kept going across the bridge and never looked back.
    The men circle me, tighter and tighter, closing in. I flick my eyes around the rooftop, trying to figure out a way off. But there’s nothing. They have the bridges and fire escape covered. I tighten my grip on the knife and plant my feet, bending my knees for balance.
    “This one wants to fight,” one of the men says. I can’t keep them all in front of me no matter how hard I try. I spin around but there’s always someone behind me. Then arms close around my chest, pinning my elbows to my sides.
    Everything explodes inside me with the need to survive and escape and the terror-fueled realization that I might not be able to.
    I twist my wrist, flicking the knife up hard, aiming for his shoulder. He ducks but still I feel the blade nick his skin. He grunts and releases me, pushes me away from him, hooking his foot around my leg so that I stumble.
    Before I can regain my balance he’s standing over me and he lashes out, kicking my hip. Pain erupts through me, making me suck in a deep breath as the horrible throbbing stabsreverberate with every beat of my heart. I crumple to my hands and knees, dropping the knife as I splay my hands to break my fall. He grabs my shoulder and flips me onto my back so hard that all the air in the world leaves my body. I buck, trying to inhale, but he places his knee on my chest, crushing me.
    This is it, I realize. This is the end of me. This man might choose to kill me or keep me alive but either way, who I am is done. A sadness begins to seep through me, a deep regret for all the time I kept my gaze focused on the ground rather than the sky.
    But then an acid burns up the back of my throat, a rage coursing through me. I’m not willing to give up that easily. If I were