little but i'm coming for the crown ♕ latisha : blitz

It was inconsiderate of the Sullivans to build a house with quite this many floors - perhaps one or two would suffice, but the chimneys stretch high into the sky. It is for this reason that I hang from the second story window, feeling the blood pulsing in my temples and my feet growing numb. The world shakes as my body struggles, and yet the figure below me is clear. A girl with raised eyebrows and an irritating confidence in her stance sets her eyes upon me. I don't recognise her. Even so, I can feel the owner of the footsteps growing closer with every passing second. My heartbeat quickens, and I can very nearly taste the danger. (Trouble is my middle name, according to my father, and this morning is no exception.) The girl pauses, looking faintly confused, and then addresses me sternly. "“Well," she begins, "you look like you're in an awkward position." I grin down at her, feeling the glitter in my eyes. "If you want my help, you better start giving me reasons as to why I should help you."

I decide that I like her. She is not, it seems, one to ask useless questions in a time of crisis. (Even so, she's being deliberately difficult, but I am no stranger to that.) "I didn't say I wanted your help!" I counter, folding my arms across my chest and jutting out my chin. The sound of the key rattling melts my resolve almost instantly. Before my lifeline can shrug and wander away, I hurriedly retrace my steps. "Although, actually, I really could use a hand, you see-" I stumble over my tongue, still smiling. "You should help me, absolutely, because, well, I mean... I'm in trouble. I'm kind of always in trouble, actually. I don't mean to be. Well, sometimes I-" I stop. I remember what my brother told me about making sure I breathe between words before I begin again. "Because, well, if you help, I can get you whatever you want. Break into anywhere. I'm not scared of anything!" It's true, I don't tremble in the shadow of peril. My adventuring skills, however, are quite evidently in need of fine tuning. Ignoring my predicament, I lower my voice to avoid letting my pursuer overhear. "My name is Kitty Dewitt, and this is Iggy." I point to where he sits, perched unhelpfully in the branches of the tree.

It's moments like these that taste like wildfire and carry with them the promise of falling asleep the moment you fall into bed. At school, I tend to drift in and out of daydreams, sitting in the corner and chattering away to Iggy. Occasionally, I glance around the room and imagine the lives of the others - they awaken in the morning and carry themselves through the day with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. Adventure is a world used only when reading aloud from books with far too few pictures and far too many words. I shudder at the thought, and crumple worksheets into lopsided paper planes that make looping paths through the air. Today, I ask myself how others spend their weekend mornings. Papa says I'm illogical, but I'm reasonably sure nobody else finds themself hanging out of a window, about to be caught for the theft of a dead girl's photographs all before midday. And I love it.

The decidedly pretentious girl before me begins to climb the tree. She's not quick enough, though - by the way she tests the branches before letting them take her weight, I can tell she isn't used to scampering up and down walls and chasing rooftops without a care. Even so, she'll do. "Okay, Kitty the crazy bitch," she sighs, and I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I’m going to decide to help you. I’m Rowan, Rowan Falls.” She's unfriendly, I can gather that. Generous, I think sarcastically, before realising I am truly in need of her help. I let the smile return to my lips and ignore her insult. Without warning, she opens the window, releasing my foot. I fall.

There have been an assortment of times in my life when I have fallen from high in the air. Trees, rooftops, chandeliers, balconies. Open windows is new to me. Panic grips me as I feel my hair streaming out behind me, golden-brown tangles chasing me toward the ground. My body lurches like a ragdoll as a branch collides with my stomach, and I fold easily in two before reaching out my hands and grasping for whatever I can. The branch I'm clinging to snaps beneath my weight and I fall again, this time feeling my shin buckle against the hard wood. My fingernails dig into the branch and I finally catch myself, breathing heavily. I hear a creak as the door opens inside the room. Without stopping to regain my balance, I move through the leaves and press myself against the wall, out of sight of the open window. "What are you doing?" I whisper to Rowan, reaching out and yanking her by the wrist. "Do you want to be caught?"

Just like that, I have a brand-new partner in crime. She's complete with a superiority complex and a condescending tone, but as I don't have a lot of options, I follow Rowan Falls as she begins to run. I am not one to look back, so as I rush down the street in her wake, bare feet slamming into the pavement one after the other, I keep my eyes on my accomplice. She's involved now, like it or not, tangled in the web of my misdeeds. Finally, she slows. “Welcome to my temporary home, Kitty and your random imaginary friend.” At this, I stiffen, for Iggy is more real than she is. Just because when I stretch out my fingers to hold his hand, they grasp only air, it does not mean he is pretend. She, on the other hand, has appeared in my life so suddenly that she may as well not exist. (Only, I have the bruises to prove that she does.)

“I know it isn’t much but this is the best I have at the moment. My parents and me are having a bit of an argument.” My eyes light up, and a wicked smile dances across my face. Having grown up with everything I could ever have asked for and lavish homes with spiralling staircases and countless rooms, the concept of living in the streets has always seemed foreign to me. Runaways and thieves, the poor and the orphaned were all unreachable and mystical in my mind - more like stories and dreams than an actual reality. And yet today, standing right in front of me in flesh and blood is a victim of that very circumstance. I'm excited. "Oh, oh, oh!" I hop from foot to foot, eager to explore her home. "You actually, really, truly live here? Oh, my gosh." Questions bubble in my mind, tripping over one another to escape from my mouth. "Is it wonderful? Being completely in charge of yourself? Nobody to tell you what to do? Oh, wow!" Always, the restrictions of society have felt too tight around my throat - although I do as I please and ignore as many orders as I possibly can, life hinges on my being a child. There are so many people who are bigger than I, and their opinions hold far more weight than my own. The dirty, downtrodden bricks make this life seem like a castle. "You must have the most marvellous time! Go on, tell me about your adventures!" I throw myself onto the ground and look up at her expectantly, making myself comfortable on a torn and grubby blanket.