Chapter Text
The girl's dark, matted hair blended in with her surroundings as she snuck from one building to another, always skirting around the outside, using bushes, flowers, benches, anything to hide herself from view. Most fifteen year old girls wouldn't know how to move so silently in the dark, especially among dry branches and dead leaves...but, then again, she wasn't like most girls her age.
She shivered. The wind was picking up, and she could practically taste the incoming storm. She'd braved worse before, but her situation could be made infinitely better if she could only find somewhere to stay. She just needed an empty building and...hm. She paused, searching her hair for something...Ha! There it is, she thought triumphantly, clutching the two bobby pins in her fist.
As she neared the end of the boardwalk, she noticed a few more buildings, all with the lights on. All except one...single story, one large window with words painted on, although it was too dark for her to make out clearly what they were. Doesn't matter. The lights were off and it looked empty, and that was good enough. After glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, she crept up to the front door, hairpins at the ready. She placed her hand on the doorknob...and, to her surprise, it turned easily.
Cautiously, she entered, tense as she waited to hear people talking, see shadows, some sign of life, but there was nothing. Too good to be true, she thought, glancing behind her as she closed the door. Most business owners are more careful than to leave the door open after they leave. But she wasn't about to complain.
Inside were a couple of desks, a shelf along one wall, and a couch. Perfect. She checked her watch, the arms indicating that it was a quarter to twelve. She'd be able to get enough sleep to wake up at six-earlier, even, just to be safe-and would sneak out, dry and unharmed, and the owners of the building would be none the wiser. There was even an alarm clock on the desk, plugged into a nearby outlet. Even better, she thought, setting the clock for five-thirty AM before lying down on the couch and promptly falling into a dreamless sleep.
At two o'clock, lightning struck a nearby wire above the boardwalk. Lights flickered across Santa Barbara...and in one little one-story office, a digital alarm clock reset itself, the blinking 12:00 casting a red glow on the face of the petite brunette sleeping soundly on the couch just a few feet away.