The moon was hidden behind thick, charcoal clouds, and the room was a freezer. Kiara lay on her side, her knees pulled tight against her chest. Every few minutes, a sharp, twisting cramp rolled through her stomach—the familiar, gnawing ache of a day spent without a single bite of bread.
She stared at the wall, her "angel eyes" dull in the dark. One more night, she told herself. Just survive one more night.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered.
THUD-THUD-THUD.
The sound of heavy boots hammered against the stone outside. Shouts erupted, and panicked, cutting through the night air. Kiara sat up, her heart leaping into her throat. She stayed perfectly still, listening to the roar of a sound she couldn't identify—until the door burst open.
Mara stood there, her hair wild, her face smudged with soot. She was gasping for air, her chest heaving as she gripped the doorframe.
"Kiara! Fire!"
Mara scrambled across the room and collapsed onto the edge of the bunk. "The kitchen in the south wing... it's gone. Everything is orange, Ki. It's a mess out there."
Mara grabbed Kiara's shoulders, her eyes burning with a sudden, sharp clarity. "Ki... don't you think it's time? Right now. We run."
Kiara sighed, the hunger making her feel heavy. She shook her head. "Mara, no. You say this every month. We'll get caught, and they'll put us in the dark cells for a week."
"Look at you!" Mara's voice rose, cracking with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Can't you see this place is killing you? You're the leanest, most unkempt kid in this entire hellhole! They treat you like a ghost, Kiara. They don't even bother to feed you anymore because they're waiting for you to just... fade away."
Kiara looked down at her thin wrists. "At least we have a roof," she whispered. "It's safe here."
"Safe?" Mara hissed, her grip tightening. "Safe is what you call a cage when you've forgotten what the sky looks like. Look at me, Kiara. Look at me. Do you feel safe? Because I don't. I feel like we're waiting to die."
The kitchen in the south wing was a roaring orange beast, sending plumes of black smoke into the night sky. But inside the girls' dormitory, the air was cold and heavy with a different kind of fear.
"Kiara, we're going. Now!" Mara hissed, her hand gripping the edge of the bunk.
Kiara huddled further into her thin blanket, her eyes wide and reflecting the distant flicker of the flames. "No, Mara. It's too dangerous. We'll be caught. We always get caught."
"Caught?" Mara's voice cracked, her frustration boiling over. "Kiara, look at you! You're starving! How long do you think I can keep sneaking bread for you? How many more nights am I going to risk the dark cells just so you don't faint in the courtyard? And the bullying... how long do you plan on letting them treat you like a punching bag?"
Kiara flinched as if Mara had struck her. She looked at her bruised arms, then back at Mara's fierce face. Her breath came in short, jagged hitches.
"This... this is all your plan," Kiara whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out, her small, cold hands gripping Mara's wrists so hard her knuckles turned white. "If we get caught, you have to own up to it. Promise me, Mara."
Mara froze, looking down at Kiara's shaking hands.
"I don't want to get whipped again," Kiara sobbed, the memory of the leather strap making her whole body recoil. "Please, Mara... if they find us, it was all your idea. Not mine. Tell them you forced me. Promise me!"
A flash of pain crossed Mara's eyes—not from a whip, but from the realization of how broken Kiara truly was. But she didn't hesitate. She placed her hand over Kiara's and squeezed.
"I promise," Mara said firmly. "It was all me. I'll take the blame. I'll take the lashes. But we aren't getting caught, Kiara. Not tonight."
The Narrow Escape
They slipped through the back hallway, the smell of smoke stinging their eyes. The chaos of the fire was their only shield. They reached the gap under the iron fence, the mud cold and slick against their skin.
Mara went first, then pulled Kiara through. Just as Kiara's boots cleared the bars, a flashlight beam cut through the dark, swinging wildly toward them.
"Hey! Who's there?"
The girls froze. A security guard was standing less than ten feet away, his silhouette towering against the orange glow of the fire.
Kiara's face went ghost-white. She looked at Mara, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream, her eyes pleading—Remember the promise. Don't let them whip me. Her heart was drumming so loudly against her ribs she was sure the guard could hear it.
Mara pressed herself into the dirt, her jaw set, her eyes narrowed like a cornered wolf. She didn't look scared; she looked ready to spring.
"Check the woodpile!" another voice shouted from the distance. "The embers are spreading!"
The guard hesitated, the flashlight beam lingering on the patch of tall grass where they lay for one agonizing second. Then, he turned and ran toward the fire.
"Move," Mara breathed.
They didn't look back. They ran until their lungs burned and the orphanage was nothing but a smudge of smoke on the horizon.