Pain exploded through Violet’s body like shrapnel. She hit the concrete hard, almost peeling off the wall and falling like a ragdoll to the ground. Her vision blurred and her head rolled backwards as every part of her body burned like it was caught in the flames that surrounded her. She painfully pressed herself flat against the concrete, hoping that the thick smoke would obscure her. 

‘Little one...

sometimes there is no need to stray past the lines they give you,

that they paint across your face with red ochre that bleeds into your skin

like the blood of blackberries—

invisible boundaries in the name of the process and structure that form a clear whole,

that established reason and triumph and the path to success.

sometimes there is a blessing hidden in the blind order of tradition,

that most...