The voices in my head could never be quiet at night.

It was a routine problem.

1. Turn off the lights
2. Get into bed
3. Close my eyes
4. Music starts blasting in my mind
5. Start acting out future scenarios in my mind
6. Toss and turn
7. Eventually decide that I cannot sleep and fling the covers off me

Every night, the same old, same old.

I always ended up sneaking out of my room at 2a.m., rummaging around in the refrigerator for a snack or some liquids, and I would plonk myself down on the couch and watch whatever was on TV in the middle of the night on mute.

Exciting.

This night, however, I decided things needed a little shaking up. I was seventeen now. No longer the young, stupid sixteen-year-old I was two hours ago.

Stole a glance at the clock on my bedside drawer. 2:13 glowed at me.

The sky was in the stage where it had lightened from can't-see-anything pitch darkness to I-can-probably-make-out-another-person-standing-in-front-of-me indigo.

As per usual, I carefully turned the doorknob, inched the door open, and toed the demarcation of my room and the corridor.

The whole family knew I was an insomniac, but with a wry inward grin: it's a routine.

Young and sweet, only seventeen, right?

My (mature) idea was brilliant. Instead of being a couch potato, dipping my hand into a bag of chips all night, I would go out. Explore the city. In the dead of night.

Nothing could go wrong.

Basking in the glow of my genius, I made my way down the flight of stairs to the ground floor of the apartment, then, with an erratic fluttering in my chest, I slooowly turned the doorknob.

Slooowly opened the door.

Slooowly put one - foot - in - front - of - the - other.

The whole time, I heard my blood rushing in my ears, felt my cheeks get hot. It was such a thrill, actually sneaking out of the house.

I know, I know. You must be thinking: She's seventeen and this is her first time sneaking out? Pathetic.

I am.

But, once I'd made it out, slooowly closing the door behind me, a wide smile spread across my face. Well, that wasn't so bad! In fact, it was pretty anticlimactic.

That's okay. I'd made it out! I was free, all alone with only the night and my thoughts to accompany me.

It was exhilarating.

All around me, the other houses made nary a sound; not a single light was on - besides the streetlights casting a soft glow over the streets, easing the burden of the moon to chase away the encroaching darkness.

The night sounds I was accustomed to, they having been the backdrop to my thoughts every night I'd lain awake, but it felt eerily quiet, with the vast stillness stretching out around the small speck that was me standing shivering in the cold outside my house.

"Hello."

It wasn't very loud, but the sound traveled, invading the night air and sounding like a bass drum to my ears. I winced, hoping my family hadn't heard it.

Throwing a nervous glance behind me, I began walking, walking, the lamps casting long shadows on the ground as I walked. Cool air raised goosebumps on my skin, but I found myself not too terribly bothered about it. It was a reprieve from the usual stuffiness of the house.

I must have walked for the better part of fifteen minutes before I broke free of my neighbourhood, emerging onto a street, the first of the dark shopfronts greeting me.

By now, my excitement had started wearing off. What had I been thinking? I should've just stuck to my routine. It was safe. It was normal. It was sane.

Huffing out a breath, I trudged on. This was the result of my lapse in judgment - exercise. So far, no exciting exploration had occurred; just familiar sights beheld my eyes.

Aha! Whip out the ole Google Maps. Yes, another brilliant idea by yours truly.

I stuck my hand in my pocket - and it was empty.

Another idea crashed and burned.

Great.

It was dreadfully boring now, walking past dark shopfronts, but I didn't want to head home either. Even if this little adventure ended in failure, at least I'd have a story for my grandkids on how on the night of my seventeenth birthday, I snuck out of the house for the very first time - they'd be rapt with attention.

Humming softly to myself, the sound pervading the silence, I let my feet wander, taking twists and turns I'd never before. Getting myself lost.

I found myself standing in a dead end.

Wasn't I just full of genius today? Er... tonight? ...Today?

Pursing my lips, my heart already started to get weighted down, I turned back. So much for exploring. I would resign myself to yet another night of watching boring old reruns on TV with a bag of chips on my lap, until I fell unknowingly asleep.

I was crossing a road, my shadow stretching forlornly before me as the streetlights hit my frame, when I heard something, making me halt in my tracks in the middle of the road, my heart palpitating.

Sharp cracks splintered the air again, making me jump out of my skin and clap my hands over my ears, a squeal strangling out of my throat.

Silence fell, leaving me falling to my knees and quaking, eyes wide and throat constricted.

A sharp bark. "Who's there?"

It sent me scrambling to my feet; an invisible force propelled me forward. I took off at a stumbling run, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodnononoohgodohgod.

What was happening?

I heard footfalls behind me. Could feel a hulking presence.

I chanced a quick look behind me, and nearly stuttered to a halt when I saw a young man, unbefitting the gruff voice I'd heard.

A boy, really, my age, whose eyes widened as they caught mine, and he slowed.

I took the opportunity to pump my legs faster, get away get away get away from here.

I pounded round the first corner I saw. I was getting even more lost now, but I didn't care. My thoughts were jumbled and confused, but with a one-track focus of escape.

From the gunshots.

From the boy.

"Hey! Stop!"

The shouts drifted on the wind to my ears. They didn't sound too close, but I tried putting on even more speed, in case.

But it wasn't working. A stitch had formed in my side, and I was panting like I'd lost a lung. Which probably wasn't too far off from the truth. I never exercised, which had to have impacted my lungs to work at the capacity of one.

I cursed all those late nights spent slumping on the couch shoving junk food in my mouth.

I was slowing. Despite my efforts, my legs burned, unable to reciprocate.

"Come back here!"

Thumping footsteps on the pavement, closing in on me. Fear gripped me in its throes.

And I fell.