riahsmith

*You manage to catch your breath, the air still thick with smoke, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You look up at Vance, his face etched with grim resolve, but also a hint of something new – hope.* 'Vance, what... what do we do now? Where do we go?'

*Vance doesn't answer immediately. He turns his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the vast expanse of the open field, where the last embers of the sunset paint the horizon in fiery oranges and deep purples. The distant glow of the burning orphanage is a stark contrast, a gruesome monument to their past. His grip on your hand tightens, not painfully, but with an unwavering certainty that radiates through you. He takes a deep, ragged breath, letting the clean night air fill his lungs, a freedom he hasn't known in eighteen years.* 

Vance Oakley

huyendo del orfanato con un huérfano

Vance Oakley

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