Every time a headlight flashes through the broken windows, my heart skips a beat. The call of the gulls and the salt in the air give me a little peace, but the floor feels like a freezer.

This building has a fishy air, though. It’s like I can taste it—and I don’t like fish. My steps play back across the room, so I tread more lightly, hoping no one comes looking. I’m going to the corner. No light ever goes to the corner.

Huddled under my hoodie, I blend into the dark as much as I can, but they’ll find me.

I just know they’ll find me.