204 A.B.

(5 years before the Runner's Rebellion)

Gods, my head aches.

With some effort I force my eyes open, grimacing from the sharp throb of pain percolating behind my brow. I catch the barest glimpse of candlelight and immediately my eyelids slam shut. When I try again, it is with a great deal more care and gradually, the room swims into focus.

Everything is sideways. That can't be right.

Slowly, I raise my head from the table. My vision blurs and it takes every reserve of my concentration to stay seated. When the world finally reappears, right-side up and relatively focused, I am able to take better stock of my surroundings. I blink as I look around, realizing suddenly that my throat is incredibly parched. I could use a drink.

"Barkeep." My voice is slurred. "Get me one more."

The face wavering in front of me looks nervous. "It's getting late, friend. Haven't you had enough for tonight?"

I grapple momentarily with the pocket of my trousers, withdrawing a sackful of coins and slamming it down on the bar between us. "One more, friend."

The barkeep's eyes dart over my shoulder. I swivel in my seat, nearly losing my balance. Someone's hand clamps down on my shoulder, righting me as a boisterous spurt of laughter is released directly into my ear. I wince, my head throbbing anew.

"How you feeling there, Will?" Stephen falls heavily onto the empty stool next to me. He raises his mug of ale to his lips and drains it, running his wrist over his mouth to catch the watery remnants running down his chin.

"Never better." I growl, turning my attention back to the barkeep. "Are you deaf? Get me my drink."

"I was just suggesting to your mate," The insolent Fragment addresses Stephen, ignoring me entirely. My hands clench into fists on top of the sticky surface of the bar. "That he doesn't look so good. Maybe you should get him a carriage."

"How's that? Is my money no good here?" I stand abruptly and the stool I was sitting on crashes to the ground, eliciting another loud peal of laughter from Stephen.

The Fragment's face colours as he falls back a step. "Take it easy."

"You like making suggestions, do you?" My vision blurs again and I shake my head to clear it. "Well, I've got one for you. I strongly suggest that you keep your opinions to yourself and concentrate on the one thing you are good for." I grab the empty mug from Stephen's hand and slam it down onto the bar with enough force that the Fragment twitches. "Serving me."

The man's face has nearly purpled. Wordlessly, he fills a tankard full of ale and slides it over to me. I snatch it away from him, curling my lip in disgust and spinning on my heel, not bothering to give the man a second look. Stephen's drunken tread sounds from behind me as I work my way back through the crowded, smoky room.

The air is heavy, made thick by the clouds of opium. I stumble through the haze, circumventing the tide of giggling women and half-conscious patrons. I trod on a body sprawled out on the floor and the man makes a half-hearted sound of protestation, his pain forgotten in the next instant as he returns to his pipe.

Somehow, I manage to find an abandoned settee and collapse on top of it. I drain what little ale I've managed to keep in my cup and toss the emptied tankard away, flopping down onto my back as I pinch my eyes shut. My head swims again and I extend a hand, snapping my fingers insistently. There is a quiet shuffling as a girl hurries over to me and a second later I feel the comforting weight of a pipe being placed in my hand.

Without bothering to open my eyes, I bring the pipe to my lips and inhale a great lungful. The opium burns my throat and chest but I hold it in, waiting. It won't be long now.

The sounds and smells percolating the air around me slowly fade away as the drug begins to take hold. I feel lighter, freer. A great feeling of peace washes over me, warm and comforting, cloaking me and carrying me far, far away. Away from this filthy den, this unwashed sector and the forbidden vices it supplies. Oblivion is what I crave, and oblivion is what I shall have.

Someone's hand grips my shoulder, shaking me and forcibly jerking me from my dream-state. I slap them away, muttering an incoherent curse.

"That's it, Will. We gotta go." It takes me a moment to recognize Stephen. "The carriage is here."

"I'm gonna stay." I make an attempt at snapping my fingers. Awareness is slowly returning to my body and that is a feeling I do not care for.

"You can't, mate. One of these Fragments spouted some nonsense about us being too rowdy and they've fetched the guard." I detect a note of panic in Stephen's voice; he's worried about word getting back to his father. I suppose it doesn't look too good for Lieutenant Griss if his kid is hauled off to the gaol.

I stifle a groan and allow him to pull me to my feet. My head rolls on my neck and my feet drag against the ground as we make our way back through the fog and up to the street. The rest of our friends are already gathered outside, red-faced from the drink and standing awkwardly amongst a couple of Palace guards.

In sharp contrast to my rough, tousled companions, the guards stand ramrod straight. Their mouths draw into grim lines at our approach.

"Well, will you look at this." I spout, my tongue feeling thick in my head. "If it isn't a pair of King Frances' trained dogs."

There is a chorus of laughter and I grin, staring the larger guard directly in the eye. The night has barely begun and I am not yet ready to go home.

The two Palace lackeys take a step towards me. Even in my drug-addled state, I don't miss the way their hands rest on the hilt of their swords.

"Seems like you boys have had quite a night." The older one gives me a pointed stare, his brows furrowing disapprovingly. It is a look I am more than familiar with.

"I'd reckon it was miles better than yours." I withdraw my arm from around Stephen's shoulders, supporting myself a bit unsteadily. I can feel the weight of my friends' expectant gazes, egging me on.

The guard's expression darkens. "We received a complaint from the proprietor that you have been unruly and abusive towards the staff. Is that true?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "'Abuse' is such a strong word. I'd rather say we were having a spirited discussion."

Someone snorts and the guard shoots a pointed look at the gathered crowd.

"Listen, here." Seems that the younger guard has decided to grow a pair. He steps up in front me, his nose inches from mine despite the fact that I stand nearly a head taller. "Being an Intact doesn't exempt you from the law. Right now, my partner and I are well-within our rights to arrest you for unruly behaviour."

"Stop, I'm shaking." I roll my eyes and nearly stumble. "What is it, are you cranky that your folks couldn't buy you out of the service?"

I can tell that it's taking every reserve of his self-control to keep from hitting me in the face. When he speaks, his voice is a low growl. "Watch it."

"Or maybe you've conscripted voluntarily." I look up at my friends and exchange a smirk with them. "You get off on this sad bit of power?"

That does it. The younger guard lunges at me, shoving me bodily back. My shoulders slam into the unforgiving wall behind me and the hazy cloud leftover from the opium at once disappears. Suddenly, I am feeling the very blood in my veins. Before I can throw a punch a crowd appears between me and the sad excuse for a guard, holding us apart and yelling indistinguishably. Curious patrons stream out of the bar and flood the road, pushing and jostling one another in their eagerness to see a fight.

While the guards have their hands full managing the riotous horde, someone grabs my arm and drags me down a darkened alley. My shouts of protest are ignored by my friends, who hustle me efficiently away from the scene and through a series of narrow side-streets.

They finally let up once I've regained some calm and we're a safe distance from the brawl. We lean up against the side of an abandoned shop, catching our breath and chuckling. Stephen wanders some distance away to hurl the contents of his stomach into the gutter while the rest of us jeer and yell insults.

"That was a close one." My mate, Gorge, slaps me on the back and I nearly topple over. "You sure let him have it, Cain."

"I would have, if you lot had let me finish what he started." Truth be told, I was itching for a fight tonight and I'm more than a little annoyed to be denied the opportunity.

"No reason to be sore." Gorge says good-naturedly. "If it weren't for us you'd be cooling your heels in the Palace gaol. What would your father have to say about that?"

At his mention of my father I instantly sober.

"Come on." I can hear the menacing note to my voice. "Let's get another drink."

Gorge senses my sudden shift in mood and takes a step back, the smile slipping off his face. "Really? Haven't you had enough excitement?"

"The night is young!" I declare, louder than I intended. I spread my arms exaggeratedly and catch more than one person flinching. "You boys can't wimp out on me, now."

Gorge casts a wary eye around the group. "I don't think so, Will. We've had enough. I've gotta be getting home."

There is a general murmur of agreement and I let my arms fall to my sides, feeling my shoulders droop. A wave of exhaustion and nausea churns my stomach and I shut my eyes tight, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Yah, all right."

Someone flags down a passing carriage and we pile inside. As we rumble off down the street I allow my friends' boorish conversation to wash over me, sitting in stubborn silence while we circle through the cramped Fragment streets and enter the brightly-lit Intact district.

My family's townhouse is the last stop. The carriage pulls up outside the red-shuttered exterior and I stumble down the step into the drive, clumsily tossing a handful of coins to the driver. He shouts something at me but I ignore him, now concentrating fully on traveling the short distance from here to the front door without keeling over.

A shaft of light appears as the door opens. I blink forcibly and breathe an audible sigh of relief when Mum rushes over, smoothly slipping her arm around my back and helping to guide me forward.

"Gods, Will. Not again." She hisses.

"Sorry, Mum." Another bout of nausea turns my gut and I wince, leaning into her. "You shouldn't be up. It's late."

"You should thank your lucky stars that I'm up. Now, hush. Your father's in his study and trust me, you do not want him to see you like this."

Her grip tightens. Together, we manage to make it through the front door and down the narrow hall towards the servant's staircase at the very back of the house. My father's study is on the second floor and I'd wager a king's ransom that he'll be wide awake with one ear tuned to our approach.

My foot slips on the last step and I pitch forward, banging my chin and rattling the teeth in my skull. Mum utters an inelegant curse under her breath as she helps to heave me to my feet, her eyes continually darting towards the door ahead of us.

There is the hurried sound of feet tapping against the wood floor and suddenly the door is flung open. I straighten just as my father steps out into the darkened hall, pulling a robe around his thick stomach and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Evenin'." I blnk heavily, willing him into focus.

"Gods' sake, William. What the hell is this?" He barks, baring his yellowing teeth beneath a curled lip.

"Take it easy, Richerd. Your son's had a bit too much to drink. It's nothing to worry about." My mother's voice is strained.

Dad's nostrils flare. "That isn't just drink. I can smell it on him."

"You caught me." I hold my hands up peaceably. "Me and the lads were out late doling rations to the handless beggars. That smell is probably the stench of peasants."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He takes a step forward and Mom inserts herself between us, placing her palms on his chest.

"Please, Richerd, not tonight. Let him sleep it off." She pleads and I feel a twinge of guilt.

"Stop defending him, Shanyn." He stares daggers at me over her shoulder. "When are you going to grow up? You're an Intact, godsdammit. It's time you started acting like one."

"I've been throwing money around and living to excess." I raise my eyebrows at him. "What's more Intact than that?"

His face has turned a deep shade of red, nearly blending in with the fibers of his robe. "You are a disgrace to this family."

"Thank the gods." I shoot back. "I'd be disappointed in myself if you thought me an asset."

"Will." Mum admonishes and I snap my mouth shut, positively seething.

His shoulders heave up and down and I can see his hands curling into fists at his sides. It occurs to me suddenly that this is the second time tonight that I've been moments away from a beating.

"Go to bed." His tone is low, menacing. "We will discuss this tomorrow."

One look from Mum and I bite down a retort, ducking my head and maneuvering around him. I grope my way up the stairs to my room unsteadily and collapse into bed fully clothed, shutting my eyes and blocking my ears to the sounds of my parents arguing.

Darkness consumes me almost instantly; welcoming and unassuming. I tumble headfirst into the blackness, into the glorious numbness. Tomorrow I will have my father's famous temper to contend with but tonight...

Tonight, nothing matters.

* * * * *

I awake, once again, with a throbbing headache.

One of the servants has left a pitcher of water by the side of the bed and I chug nearly half of it before stopping to take a breath, wiping an arm across my mouth as my stomach rolls in protest. It is then that I realize I am still wearing the clothes from the night before and that my fine linen shirt and vest are sporting some suspicious-looking stains.

Groaning, I eventually manage to ease myself out of bed and lumber over to the washbasin. I splash my face and peel off my ruined shirt, grimacing when I catch a glimpse of my torso in the mirror. Ugly red welts creep their way around my back and over my shoulders, marring my skin and glinting frightfully in the morning sunlight.

I tear my eyes away from the sight and grab a fresh shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it haphazardly. I grab a handful of coins and my old pocketwatch off the desk before yanking open the door and stepping into the hall. The smell of cooking food greats my nostrils and I head out in search of breakfast, rubbing my bleary eyes and grumbling at the servants dodging clear of my path.

The sunlight on the first floor is even more intense than it was upstairs. The headache in my temple throbs anew as I grope my way towards my chair at the table, pulling it out and sinking down heavily. A cup of coffee is placed in front of me and I grab it with shaking fingers, taking small sips and sighing as my headache gradually begins to recede.

"You look terrible." Someone says cheerfully.

I peer over the rim of my cup. Jules sits across from me, appearing annoyingly perky and pulled-together despite being only twelve years old. I have seven years of experience on my sister but with her innate maturity and biting tongue, you would think that she were the older one, not me.

Of course, even the finest Outer-City education and the honour of being my father's favourite doesn't exempt Jules from making fun of my hangover.

"Pipe down." I chuck a bit of toast at her and she giggles.

Mum sits next to Jules, picking at her food but not eating. Dad is (mercifully) not present. With any luck I can continue to avoid him until he forgets last night's argument. I keep my eyes averted as I scoop heaping forkfuls of eggs into my mouth, feeling my cheeks burn while my mum and sister scrutinize me. I can imagine how I look; red-eyed and shaky, my shirt half-buttoned and my dark hair mussed from sleep. I can almost feel the disappointment radiating off of them. Immediately, I am craving a drink.

"You have to stop this, Will." When Mum speaks her voice is so quiet that I barely hear her. "You can't go on this way."

I sigh, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my face with my hands. "Come on, Mum. I'm still waking up, I'm not ready to argue, yet."

"Why does everything always have to be a fight with you?" She doesn't seem angry but rather weary, beaten down. Which is infinitely worse.

"It's just a bit of fun." I keep my tone light, mindful of Jules. "I'm done with school, I'm entitled to a break."

"Your father thinks that is an issue, that you are too idle." Mum chooses her words carefully, her eyes never leaving my face. "Those boys you hang around with, they don't have anything to occupy themselves with but taverns and trouble."

"Those are my friends." I grumble.

"They are wastrels, and you're better than that." She snaps. "You're smart, Will. You could be a great physician, better than your father, even. Why don't you begin your training? Gods know that it's time you contribute something."

"What would be the point?" I snap. "I'm an Intact. I'd rather not work and just receive the barest of allowances. I don't need all of this excess."

"You think that's what this is? Excess?" Some of the old fire has returned to Mum's eyes. "This house and these luxuries might seem like just things to you, Will. What you don't understand is that status means something to people like your father, to people like your King. Status is currency in this City."

"Good for them, but I don't need it." I snap and throw my fork down on my plate. Jules flinches at the resounding clatter but Mum remains perfectly still, waiting patiently.

I take a deep breath, bringing my temper back under control.

"You will, someday." Mum reaches across the table, gripping my clammy hand. "Eventually, you will discover your purpose and when you do, you will find that rank and respectability are the most valuable assets to have at your disposal."

"Maybe I don't have a purpose." I draw my hand back, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Maybe it's just time that you accept that, Mum. I'm not going to be a physician and I will never, ever be anything like Dad."

She studies me for a moment longer before replying. "You aren't proving anything by rejecting your opportunities, Will. The only thing you are showing anyone is how gifted you are at throwing away your potential."

The dull ache returns to my temple. "Got it, Mum. Are we done with the lectures?"

"For now." One of the servants comes by to refill my plate but Mum waves them away, taking the serving dish herself and doling out another helping to both Jules and I. "I need you to run an errand for me."

I groan, but it's more out of habit than annoyance. Truth is, I'm looking for a reason to be out of the house today.

Mum ignores my outburst. "Jules needs next term's schoolbooks. Can you go into the market and pick them up for me?"

"Sure." I drain what's left of my coffee. "Want me to get you some of those toffees while I'm out?"

Her eyes brighten. "Oh, yes. I would love that."

"And what about you, kid?" I turn my attention to Jules. "Have you been hankering for a sweet? Or are books all the bad habits you need?"

She giggles. "Can you get me some chocolate buttons?"

"You got it." I shove my chair back from the table, balling up my napkin and tossing it onto my empty plate. "It has been a pleasure, ladies. As always."

"Go out the front when you leave." Mum has returned to picking at her meal. "Your father's in the back garden."

"Thanks, Mum."

I waggle my eyebrows playfully at Jules, crossing quickly to the hall and ducking out the front door. The coffee and food have done much to soothe my lingering hangover and I adopt an easy stroll as I head into the market, whistling a low tune under my breath and glancing about at the crowd.

Intacts, dressed in their finest linen shifts and suits stroll up and down the wide streets. There are shouts of greeting and a general sense of comradery as men and women stock up on the latest goods and rations. As I draw closer to the market a general buzz fills the air, a kind of hurried franticness. The crowd becomes peppered, then overrun with Fragments. As a precautionary measure I curl my fingers around the ancient pocketwatch buried inside the folds of my vest.

A couple of kids chase one another between the stalls, giggling madly when they nearly collide with my legs. I feel my sour mood return as I watch them disappear back into the throng. Despite the obvious hardships, there is a part of me that envies the Fragments. The freedom, the complete disregard they have for society. They live life on their own terms and seem happier for it.

"Are you lost?" A voice breaks through my thoughts and I start.

A skinny, red-headed girl is standing in front of me, her eyes scrutinizing.

"What?" I blink, confused. "No, I'm fine."

"You sure?" She tilts her head and a lock of hair springs loose from her tangled braid. "You don't look like you're from around here."

"I don't live in this district." I make to maneuver around her but she falls into step next to me, chattering away, seemingly oblivious.

"I figured that." She says conversationally. "What are you looking for? The baker? The spicemaker? I could give you directions."

"Is that so?" I raise my eyebrows, glancing down at her as she hurries to keep up with my long stride. "And what are the chances that your expertise comes at a fee?"

"For an extra coin I will escort you, myself."

"Thanks, but I can find my own way."

"Are you sure?" She's persistent, I'll give her that. "I can be great company."

"I have no doubt." I draw to a stop, breathing out an exasperated sigh between my teeth. "All right, I'll bite. Point me towards the booksellers."

She grins, catching the coin deftly when I flip it to her. "Just around the corner, there. Take a left when you pass the glassmakers."

"Great." I begin to turn away. "And if it's all right with you, I'll make do without the company."

"Your loss." She says cheerfully, tossing me a jaunty little wave and at once disappearing into the crowd.

I shake my head, heading off in the direction she pointed out and drawing up outside the dusty little shop a few moments later. A bell rings somewhere above my head as I push open the door and I pause a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. I take my time in making my way through the cramped aisles, the shop's musty scent and peaceful atmosphere reminding me of the opium den. As I allow myself to become entrenched amongst the old volumes I feel my shoulders stretch and loosen.

I lose track of the hour while I peruse the shelves, thinking only to check the time as I wait for the merchant to fetch Jules' order. I grope at my vest pocket for the familiar bulk of my watch and freeze when I find nothing. I check my other pocket, patting furiously at my chest as realization slowly dawns.

That flame-haired Fragment girl stole my pocketwatch.

"Gods damn it." I curse, slamming my fist down on the counter just as the merchant reappears. The pile of books he was carrying goes flying, landing in a heap of torn pages and cracked bindings.

I curse again, vaulting myself over the counter and stooping to help pick up the books. I pay hurriedly and leave, tucking the package under my arm and searching feverishly through the surging masses for a trace of telltale red hair.

Of course, she's long-gone.

My feet scuff against the dusty street as I trod over to the sweets stall. The seller gives me a strange look while she prepares my purchase. I don't blame her; I doubt she's ever seen anyone appear so unhappy when buying a bag of toffee and chocolate buttons.

It was my father's watch; gifted to me when I graduated from the Academy. I remember him pressing the cold metal into my hand while he railed about how a good watch was a mark of a good man and that this particular piece had been in our family since the Burn. Of course, the ostentatious piece of junk held no sentimental value to me, but I can already imagine Dad's reaction when he finds out that I lost it. The skin on my back prickles painfully at the thought.

"Oy! Will!" A familiar voice calls out from behind me.

I spin in place, offering up a tight grin as Gorge and Stephen hurry over. My mates don't appear to be in any better shape than I am, with Stephen's face only half-shaved and Gorge's eyes bloodshot and heavily shadowed.

"Don't you two make a pretty picture." I tuck the bag of sweets into my vacated pocket and shift the package of books under my arm. "Out a little early today, aren't we?"

"The sun will rise and so shall I." Gorge laughs, withdrawing a flask from his vest and offering it to me. I hesitate for only a moment before taking a healthy sip.

"We were just heading over to the pub for a draught. Care to join?" Gorge inclines his head down the alley, raising his brows in question.

I run my free hand over the back of my neck. "I don't know. The folks aren't too happy with me, right now."

"Are they ever?" Stephen ignores me when I shoot him a look, taking the flask and raising it to his lips.

"Yah, well..." I glance over my shoulder. Dad will throw a fit if I come home late two nights in a row.

On the other hand, I'm already in for it, especially now that I've lost the watch. Getting home on time won't keep the look of disappointment from Mum and Jules' faces, and it won't keep my father off my back.

"Hell with it." I turn back to face my friends. "Lead the way."

One drink turns into two. Then three. I am raising my hand to signal the barkeep for a fourth when Stephen grabs hold of my arm, his pudgy fingers digging into my flesh.

"What's it?" I shake him off.

His bleary eyes are focused on something over my shoulder. "Cain, isn't that your old man, over there?"

I follow his gaze. Sure enough, my father has just pushed his way into the dingy tavern. He appears conspicuously out of place amongst the riotous crowd, his grey hair combed flat and his pristine white shirt buttoned all the way up his throat.

"Shit." I spin back around, bunching up my shoulders. "Did he see me?"

"I don't think so." Stephen continues to watch my father's movements. "He's headed for another table, I think he knows someone over there."

"Really?" I chance a look behind me, curious who my father could possibly be acquainted with in a place like this. Dad has made his way to the back corner of the room and inserted himself firmly between the wall and a tall, buxom woman I've never seen before. Her fake, throaty laugh and garishly painted lips are all the evidence I need to make my conclusion.

"Who'd have thought that the King's physician would have a taste for the streetwalkers?" Gorge sounds amused. "Do you think he could get me a prescription?"

"Shut up, Gorge." I watch as my father's hand gropes clumsily for the woman's waist, pulling at her as she releases another shrill peal of laughter. My head throbs at the sound and spin back towards the table, clenching my jaw.

"She's taking him upstairs." Stephen narrates unnecessarily. "Probably just trading bedtime stories, am I right?"

"Yah, from the looks of her she's probably ripe with bedtime stories." Gorge chimes in and they both laugh uproariously.

The blood in my veins runs cold and I stand abruptly, shoving my chair back from the table.

"Shut up." I shout.

"Easy, Cain." Gorge raises his hands in mock-surrender, his mouth still drawn in a grin.

"Yah, we were just having a bit of fun." Stephen glances nervously between George and I.

"It isn't funny to me." I growl.

Gorge rolls his eye. "Come off it. Here, have another drink. You're a lot more fun when you're sloshed."

I knock the proffered mug from his hand, sending droplets of ale raining over his face and shirt. He sputters, jerking to his feet and staring daggers at me. "What the hell?"

"Go fuck yourself, Gorge." I grab my jacket off of my chair and turn to leave, at the last moment remembering Jules' books.

"Yah well, maybe when your Dad is done I'll get his new friend to do that for me." Gorge calls out.

I freeze in my tracks. Deep breath, one, two...

Nothing for it. Whirling back around I throw out my fist, connecting solidly with Gorge's smirking face.

The bar erupts into chaos. Someone jumps on my back and I push them off, yelling and cursing. Gorge is sprawled out on the floor, his hand plastered over his mouth and a cascade of bright red blood spurting between his fingers. Stephen helps him to his feet and Gorge lunges at me, grabbing hold of my sleeve and tearing the fabric. I shake off the people holding me and lash out again at Gorge, seeing nothing, hearing nothing as we rain blows down upon one another.

I am vaguely aware of someone hollering my name before I am pulled bodily back, shoved away from the fight as a familiar, imposing figure inserts himself in front of me.

Shit.

My father grips me by the shoulder and drags me outside, away from the riotous crowd, Gorge's bloodied face and the barkeep's murderous threats. I grip Jules' books in a shaking hand, stumbling as I am flung out onto the street and my back slams into the side of the building opposite. My father grabs hold of me again, yanking me into a darkened alley and shoving me into another wall.

A metallic taste fills my mouth. I spit a gob of blood onto the street, running a wrist across my mouth and looking up.

Dad appears larger than life, his tie loosened and his vest unbuttoned as he glares down at me. His beefy hands are curled into fists and I can fairly see the veins bulging around his neck and forehead. I flinch involuntarily, drawing myself up to my full height and meeting his gaze head-on.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" He thunders, closing the distance between us.

I take a step back, cursing the narrow passageway. "I could ask you the same thing."

His face reddens. "How dare you."

"How dare I?" My voice rises. "You really are the world's biggest hypocrite. I guess now I know the real reason you wanted me out of the Fragment sector. Wanted to keep all of the indulgences to yourself, did you?"

There is a stinging slap against the side of my head and a high-pitched whine fills my ears. I shake my head to clear it, touching my lobe gingerly to see if I'm bleeding.

"What is it going to take, William?" Spittle flies from his mouth. "I've given you everything and the only thing I've asked is that you conduct yourself with just an ounce of dignity. Instead, I find you brawling in taverns and reeking constantly of drink and opium. You are the son of the King's chief physician, for gods' sake. How do you think this type of behaviour reflects on me?"

"Trust me, it is no prize to be associated with you, either." I fire back. "At least I am honest about who I am, Dad. I don't need to do my whoremongering in secret."

His fist flies again and I slump to the ground, gripping my stomach and retching. From the corner of my eye I can see Jules' books, ripped free of their packaging and lying haphazardly in a scattered pile.

"Get up." His voice is low, the threat clear.

Using the wall as leverage I pull myself to my feet, drawing shallow breaths in a vain attempt to refill my lungs.

He takes another lumbering step forward, grabbing hold of my collar and pinning me in place. Our faces are only inches apart, close enough that I can smell the disgusting odour of cheap whisky mixed with perfume.

"I won't stand for this...this...insubordination any longer, William. Do you hear me? This ends, now." He shakes me violently, emphasising his point. "Tomorrow, you will report to the infirmary for training. It is time that you grow up and learn your place."

"I won't."

The grip on my collar tightens. "You will, or you can say goodbye to that handsome allowance I've allotted you."

"I don't need your money."

A cruel smirk plays at the edges of his lips. "No? And what of your sister? Would you also deprive her?"

That stops me cold. Jules' enrollment in the Outer City Academy is the only thing keeping her from having to live under my father's roof.

"It's a lucrative career as a Palace physician, William. It's hardly a death sentence." His mocking tone causes my blood to boil. "Stop resisting your future."

My future. A lifetime of wealth and excess, spoiled by opportunity and favoured by the monarchy. To all those Fragments who look in on our sector and quake with envy, I wish that I could show them the truth. The only thing privilege ever warranted me was a deep-seated rage and a backful of scars.

"That isn't my future." I shove him away from me. The action catches him by surprise and he stumbles, the expression on his face turning at once from confusion to abject fury.

"What would you have instead, son?" He fairly snarls. "You, your mother and your sister, flung back down to the bottom of the Intact heap? You would throw away their future, also?"

"I can take care of them."

"How?"

"I'll enlist." The idea comes to me suddenly. "I'll become a soldier."

"A soldier? You?" He releases a barking, mirthless laugh. "You cannot be serious. That is a position for peasants."

But the plan is already solidifying itself in my mind, crystallizing and hardening my resolve. "And do you know the best part, Dad? If they ship me out to the Wastelands then there's a good chance that you'll never have to see me again."

All traces of humour have been wiped clear of his face and now he stares at me fully, as if seeing me for the first time. A jolt of satisfaction runs through me as I realize that, for once in his miserable life, he is caught in a situation he cannot control.

The side of my mouth lifts upwards. My split lip tugs painfully, but I don't care. I've won. I've found a way out, and there is nothing this pathetic old man can do to stop me.

"Give me back my watch." The danger is clear in his tone. "Right now."

"I can't." Turns out that the red-headed thief did me a huge favour. I take no small amount of pleasure in breaking the news to him. "It's gone."

"Gone?"

I nod, watching with satisfaction as realization dawns over his bulging features. The vein in his forehead throbs and I can fairly hear the sound of his teeth grinding together.

He stalks towards me but this time, I stand my ground. "You arrogant, thoughtless, irresponsible, disrespectful waste of space." His voice is a low rumble. "You are a born disappointment. You discredit your faction and your kin."

"I don't care." I'm surprised to find that I mean the words. "If success means turning into someone like you, then I'm proud to fail."

When he lashes out at me again I dodge instinctively, ducking low and grabbing him about the waist. throwing us both to the dusty ground.

The colour red clouds my vision and the sound of rushing blood fills my ears. My fists fly of their own accord, raining down on him, connecting over and over again with bruised, pulpy flesh. He holds up his hands to defend himself but it doesn't matter, I hold no pity for this man, this hellish monster who scarred my skin and filled every day of my life with fear and ignorance. I punch in tune with the singular thought echoing through my head.

Never again.

Never again.

Never again.

My hands grope along the ground for something, anything to finish him off. I find purchase around one of Jules' books and bring the heavy volume over my head, glaring down at the pitiful sight below me.

His face is a bloodied mess. He holds his hands up, whether in surrender or to protect himself, I can't be certain. One of his eyes is swollen shut and he is trembling violently. When he speaks, his voice is broken, raspy.

"Son, don't. Please."

Pleading never stopped him. My blood, cuts and tears never stopped him. Why should it sway me?

Because I am not my father.

The book falls harmlessly to the ground, kicking up a cloud of sand. Slowly, I ease myself to my feet, standing on shaking legs and pushing my hair back from my face. He remains on the ground, bringing his legs up to his chest and cowering in the fetal position.

I step calmly over the prone figure, gathering up the discarded books and tucking the tattered copies back under my arm. I check my pocket, relieved to find the bag of sweets is still tucked safely inside, albeit somewhat crushed.

I spare him one last backwards glance, taking stock of the sight and feeling my last traces of anger dissolve. There is nothing he can do to me, now. I have a future, and it isn't his.

A new kind of resolve settles within me as I set off down the lamplit streets. I feel my stride lengthen and my shoulders loosen. Despite my aches, for once I don't crave the familiar numbness of drink and drug. For the first time in my life, I want to feel this. I want to be in this moment, and the next, and the next.

This is something new.

This is purpose.

=====

Hello, my lovelies! How is everyone enjoying The Burn, so far? I was really excited to share Will's story, I hope that an ugly past hasn't tainted his memory for you ;)

As always, I am taking requests about who you would like to see featured in The Burn. I am also open to revisiting some of the characters that already have a chapter, since there is always more story to tell!

Finally, if you aren't following me on Instagram, I invite you to check out instagram.com/runnerseries. Ripe with unseen Runner photos and quotes, it's a can't-miss for the discerning Runner  fan!

That's it! See you in two weeks,

xx

Kate