Have you ever had that feeling when you knew you were dreaming but no matter how you tried you couldn’t pull yourself out of it? Well, that’s not quite how I felt because I wasn’t really trying to get out. Maybe it was because despite the horrendous nature of this dream it still felt familiar. Normal even. Like this was where I should actually be and not out there in the real world that just didn’t feel real anymore.

I was walking down the same broken street I always did after school, shivering in my pair of too-small shorts and the only shirt I had without holes. I tried to breathe warmth into my hands but no matter how hard I tried they just didn’t stay warm. It was the dead of winter and it was ferociously cold even in the middle of the afternoon. Not the kind of cold you get up in the mountains where it snowed, but the kind of cold where it seeped into your skin slowly, like you were sitting in a fridge only it was the whole world, not a small electric box.

Okay, so not the whole world, but certainly my world. I was ten years old again and when you’re ten the world is small. Sure, your imagination is vivid and you dream of faraway places like outer space but in reality, all you know is this small town that you call home. Not even the whole town really, just the small portion of it that you interact with every day.

Rory ran along beside me, the cold not biting him as badly as it did me. I’d given him my coat to keep him warm. It was too small for me anyway but it fit him okay.

Rory stopped at the corner and looked longingly into the store there, drool practically dripping from his chin.

“Come on Rory, we need to get home,” I said.

“But Joe,” he said, elongating the ‘o’ sound like he always did. “I’m hungry.”

“So am I but we’ll be in trouble if we’re late.”

“Do you think we’ll get dinner tonight? Mum promised us tacos last week.”

What do you say when you know the answer will break their heart? I didn’t want him to cry in the middle of the street. People were already looking at us and it was making me uncomfortable.

“Maybe. Let’s go see.”

“But I’m hungry now.”

I sighed and looked through the shop window past all the taped-on notices of lost dogs and guitar lessons. There was an entire row of shelves that was dedicated to nothing but chips. It always baffled me that there was so much food here when our shelves at home were empty aside from the cockroaches that liked to swarm there.

I was hungry too. So, so hungry. It had been almost two days since I’d had anything to eat. Mum had been angry when I’d stayed out past my five o’clock curfew. I just wanted to play with my friend for a little bit longer. No, she’d been so angry she’d thrown me and Rory both into our room and locked the door from the outside. Her friend, the man with dirty hair and crazy eyes had come to visit after that. Then there had been no money and Mum was feeling sick again. Too sick for us to go to school the next day. Too sick for us to even leave our room. It had made my teacher mad too. Why were grown-ups always mad?

I shivered as another blast of cold air rushed down the street at us. I scratched my head viciously again, frustrated by the stupid little bugs that kept getting in there. My stomach rumbled. The shop owner waved goodbye to a nice old lady and put out a new tray of hot sausage rolls and pies. I could smell them from the street. It smelled so good.

Well, even if we couldn’t eat, we could at least get a little warmth. I ushered Rory into the shop ahead of me and when I followed I couldn’t help but sigh out loud. The place was so warm and the floors must have just been cleaned because I could smell that strong lemony scent, the same one they had at school. Our place never smelled like that. I wish it smelled like that.

The shopkeeper turned to greet us but when he saw who it was his face changed. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked angry too. I hate it when they look at us like that. Rory was running around, pointing at all the wonderful things we could not have. I wish I had that same wild energy that he seemed to have. All I felt was tired. Not the bed kind of tired though, this was different. Tired all the way to my toes not just my eyes. Maybe I was sick too like Mum was.

The shopkeeper turned away from us and it gave me an idea. One I knew was very bad but all the wonderful smells were making it hard to think straight. I told Rory we were going to play a game. It was called ‘who can run home to the park the fastest’. He bolted for the door and ran out into the street. I snatched two sausage rolls from the tray and stuffed them into my pockets, the heat radiating off of them warming up my thighs through the thing fabric. I didn’t mind though. The warmth was nice. Then I was running too. Running faster than I ever had before.

I thought someone would catch me. Someone like the police or the shop owner. I was sure I would be yelled at or even thrown in jail. What I did was bad.

It didn’t happen though. All that happened was Rory won the race and we got to eat the yummy sausage rolls under the bridge by the river as the sun continued to sink. It was only after the last bite that I realized what the sinking sun meant though. We would be in trouble. Very big trouble. It was past curfew. That meant Mum would get the belt.

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I felt my pulse race at the thought of it as tears stung my eyes. I don’t like the pain. I don’t like the cold. I don’t like being locked in our small smelly room with only one small blanket. I don’t like it.

I woke with a start, sucking in a desperate breath like somehow I’d forgotten to breathe while I’d been sleeping. I tried to rub at my aching face but the shackles stabbed into my skin, keeping my arms locked tight against the wall.

I don’t know why I was dreaming about the first time I’d stolen something. It seemed like a stupid thing for my mind to focus on when the world around me had turned into a violent real-life video game. We don’t get to choose our dreams, however. I kind of wish we could. Seeing Rory again had been nice but it had also been very painful.

I shivered in the dungeon. As cold now as I had been back then. The dream was already fading from my mind along with the memory but the feelings remained. I wish they would disappear as well. They were useless now. Fear, pain, and anger did me no good when I was locked in a cell stripped down to my boxer shorts.

It had all happened so quickly. One moment the tornado had been thundering down on us and the next the stupid peacock toad man was cowering at Eric’s feet as the man slammed his jeweled blade into Count Banksia’s bared neck. I could still remember the sound of the blade slicing into the flesh there and cutting through the bone. Severing Count Banksia’s neck and taking his life in one fell swoop.

I could still remember the blood spurting as Eric yanked the blade free. I could still remember the new King demanding we be taken away. I could still remember the look of pure ecstasy on the High Priest’s face as he stepped from the shadows.

It was all so vivid like it had only just happened but in reality, it had been days since then. My stomach growled and the old but familiar deep weakness took over me driving me to my knees.

I guess I should be grateful none of us had suffered the same fate as Count Banksia but how could I be when my death was being drawn out so cruelly?

My mouth was uncomfortably dry like someone had stuffed cotton in there while I slept. I tried to wet it by smacking my lips and running my tongue around but it didn’t help much. What I wouldn’t give for just a sip of water.

“Joe, are you awake?”

I jumped at the whisper. In the silence of the dungeon, it was so loud it hurt my ears. I squinted through the darkness, trying desperately to make out her form but it was no good. I knew she was there, as trapped and tormented as I was, but I couldn’t see her.

“I’m awake,” I said, letting my chin drop to my chest.

“We’ll get out of this you know. We still have friends out there. They’ll come from us,” Miranda said.

I bit back the sardonic laugh that tried to escape my lips. It would be a whole new kind of cruelty to destroy her hope. We might have had friends before but not now. I’d purposely pushed them away. It seemed like such a stupid thing to do now but it had felt right at the time. Like I was protecting them somehow by keeping them at arm's length. No, they weren’t coming for us. If they were going to we would already be free by now.

This was how we would die. Trapped and practically alone in the dark like rats caught in a cage. You’d think it would be the Crocs that killed us. Maybe even a Nightstalker Rattler. Instead, it was just the arrogance of man that would be our downfall. How pathetic is that?

I wouldn’t have minded so much really, except I had dragged Miranda and Stella into this. They had been safe in Oliver’s Rest. Why couldn’t I have just left them there? This was all my fault.

In the same way, it had been my fault when the light in Rory’s eyes had gone out and I was left alone in the dark of our tiny room.

If only I had been stronger. If only I had been smarter. If only I had actually been a good thief. There were so many if only's.

“Joe, are you there?”

No. I’m not. Joe is gone. There is nothing left of me.

“I’m here.”

“Please don’t give up. I couldn’t handle it if you gave up.”

I could hear the tears in her words. I knew her hope was fading. I wanted to say something, anything to keep that light alive. But what? What could I say?

A tiny whistle broke the silence. I frowned and lifted my head. Looking helplessly through the darkness to find the source. It was not good. My eyes might as well have been shut.

The whistle sounded again. Closer this time.

“What… What is that?” Miranda asked.

“I don’t know.”

And then, like the sound of some god speaking from the heavens, I heard a familiar voice. “Stop sulking and stand up.”

It was the same voice that had spoken to me when we’d been trapped between the tornado and Count Banksia. The same voice that spoke from nowhere but told me what to do.

Like a pilot light sparking over a rush of gas, the fire of hope reignited inside of me. I did as the voice said, clambering to my feet. My aching shoulders were relieved by the sudden lack of strain.

“Who are you?” I asked the nothingness.

“You can call me Jitta,” the voice said.

“Are you here to set us free?” I asked desperately.

“No, I’m here to deliver a present from Kendrick. Hold out your hand.”

I frowned. The disembodied voice knew Kendrick? I held out my hand and hissed through my teeth at the sting of tiny talons that bit into my palm. Something long, cold, and thin dropped into my hand. The talons let loose and I heard the fluttering of wings.

“Good luck thief, see you on the other side.”

With that, the room fell into silence again. I carefully manipulated the thing it had left behind, a smile creeping across my face. I looked up at my shackles and the glorious golden padlock icon appeared. I had one shot. Just one. It was all I needed.