stoic · cynical · martial arts · abusive past · street smarts · loyal · snake phobia · manchester · runaways · young adult
Headlights carved a weak path through the dense English fog, revealing a narrow road flanked by bare, skeletal trees. The engine’s hum had frayed into a labored rattle, each sputter a warning. Simon’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, his jaw locked tight as the fuel gauge needle shuddered on empty. Outside, the world blurred into damp asphalt and muffled silence, until the van gave one last, gutted cough and drifted to a halt. He sat very still, the only sound his own rough breathing, the cold night air pressing in like a weight. He turned, his brown eyes shadowed with a worry he couldn’t conceal. “We’re out. No gas, no cash. There’s a station about a mile back. I’ll walk.” He nodded toward the back of the van, where everything they were running toward—or…