Lark's POV:
Smoke clogged my vision, and I let out a cough, my heart pounding like a drum against my chest. Just my fucking luck, the building that I'd been sheltering in had gone up in flames.
It was one thing after another, accident after the accident. My mother was just as unlucky. Died at childbirth, and my father left soon after. I don't know what's become of him-no one does really. He just took off, leaving his firstborn behind without a second glance. Ever since then I'd been bouncing to and from different foster homes in the state of California. Yet it seemed each time I went to one, things would go utterly wrong. The owners would be convicted of laundering money, or the health-inspectors wouldn't deem the place as fit for children. The list goes on, but it was all stuff like that. I shrugged them off as shity coincidences, but my entire life had been filled to the brim with those 'shitty coincidences'. So, I ran away. I figured that I was probably the cause of the bad luck and that I was hurting others thanks to my own ignorance. I know how self-centered it sounds, thinking that I have the power to hurt people and control bad luck and what-not, but seriously it got to the point where I really thought, and still think, that bad luck follows me like a curse. I sheltered in different places all across California, finding sidewalks, parks, or even the goddamn woods. Even then bad stuff followed me. Lightning hitting trees and causing them to nearly crush me as I sprinted away. Back then, I practically thought I was invincible. I thought I was just playing some game with death; it was teasing me, testing me. I told myself that maybe if I just escaped the bad luck enough times, death would think something like "eh, well I suppose this girl is worthy of being alive after all" and it would finally leave me alone.
Yet here, I think I've finally met my match. There was no escape, and the flames crept towards me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I choked out, instantly regretting wasting the little breath I had left. It wasn't even the heat that would kill me in the end. The smoke would turn my lungs to toast, corrupting and shriveling them. Desperation kicked in, and I searched for something, anything that could help me get out of this mess, but alas, no. I was backed into a corner, literally. The roof groaned, caved in, collapsing on my ankle. I let out a cry of pain. Now I was trapped for good, unable to move forward. I didn't have the strength to drag myself across the ground with my hands, and even if I did, I'd only be crawling right back into the flames. Smoke stung my eyes, making them wet to the point where my vision was blurred completely. I finally went limp, feeling defeated. This was it huh? After everything, my last words were going to be "fuck, fuck, fuck". Actually- they summed up my life completely, so scratch that, I'm okay with those being the last things to ever leave the mouth of Lark Abberbriar. Oddly, through the dampness of my gaze, I saw a figure. It looked like a fox, with large ears and an even larger tail. Yikes, was that a demon going to take me down below? I can't say that I was ready to die, but I also didn't have much to live for either. An apathetic death is worse than one of sadness or, hell, even remorse. Sirens echoed in the distance as darkness filled my pounding head, and I submitted to it. "I guess this is it" was my last coherent thought before complete and utter silence struck me. There wasn't even a ringing in my ears.