I looked around me, seeing nothing but the dark streets of London. I stumbled, as I often did, cursing myself. Cursing my father. I had begged him not to leave me in the streets alone. I had told him I had no sense of time, no sense of direction, and no sense of coordination. What a fool he was to let me wander by myself.
Yet I still needed to find him, my beacon of safety.
Rain started to fall from the heavens, and I clutched my cloak close to me, pulling the ribbons that fastened my bonnet tightly. I could not stand the cold, and rain had always brought cold with it. Each time I had been stuck outside in the rain, I had always gained a cold or the flu. I feared that this time, it would be no different.
"Father!" I called out, my voice echoing. "Father? Father, where are you?"
My own voice came hurtling back towards me as it bounced off the walls of the buildings around me. I turned helplessly, twisting a small handkerchief in my hands.
"Where are you?" I whispered, at last standing still. I knew not where I was, and still felt as helpless as ever.
I looked around again, and could not see a single sign to name the street, nor a single building where I might have found a kindly face. I trembled, seeing that between each building, there were alleyways. Dark alleyways. I heard voices coming from them.
Wincing, I listened to the voices. Some were concerned voices, those of families living on the streets. Some were seductive, those of prostitutes and whores. I could even swear I heard them at their business as well. At this sound, my hands snapped up to my ears, and I closed my eyes firmly.
People walked by, not caring for the fact that I sat there alone. I could not understand why they did not even cast a glance at me. Huddled in the corner, I could just have easily been a child.
I murmured to myself, repeating the word 'father' over and over, as if he would appear if I only wished hard enough. It sickened me almost that I should be so childish. I was a young woman, not a silly child. By growing, I was to become more mature, to be able to stand on my own two feet.
But I could not help it.
I could not stand being alone, not knowing where I was.
All of a sudden, the voices that had been heard in the alleyways became louder, and I could hear one approaching me. I looked up, seeing nothing, but hearing that little bit clearer. There were two sounds to be heard.
Firstly, a set of voices in the distance, laughing and cursing. It echoed slightly, making it harder to make out what the voices said.
Secondly, a set of feet, making their way down the street.
Down towards me.
I rose to my feet slowly, looking for the person to whom the feet belonged to. There was only a dim light from the street lamps overhead, allowing me that smallest amount of sight. The footsteps stopped all of a sudden, and there was silence across the street, only disturbed by the distant mutters of men.
"Hello?" I whispered, my voice trembling. The person whom the footsteps belonged to did not answer. I swallowed thickly, shaking.
"Who's there?" I asked, my voice a little braver than before, although my knees suddenly felt weaker.
Slowly, the figure appeared in the shadows on the edge of the light, causing only a silhouette to form. I tensed, frightened all the more. My breath became raspy, and the rain started to beat at me with a slight more ferocity.
In my fear, I ran.
I cared not for the fact that I still stumbled wherever I went, and that the figure had begun to follow me. All that I knew was that I had to keep going. There was no reason specifically why I did, but the man had made me uneasy. I could not stand to have him in my sight again.
I kept running. Running and running and running. My course took me through many an alleyway, and my concentration had slipped to the point where I did not notice that my bonnet had long fallen off, and my feet were now numb with the icy water they had plunged into. The rain still poured down, soaking my hair until it hung in loose tendrils around my face, sticking to my cheeks and forehead.
"God help me," I murmured to myself as I ran. "Dear God, help me!"
Although I could still swear I heard those footsteps behind me, I looked behind, seeing not a soul. It disturbed me, and I could not fully say I believed that I was not still being followed.
I turned my head back to look forward, but only in time to see the collision I made.
"Steady yehrself," a man said suddenly- I only realised moments after that I had run straight into him. "It ain't safe, yeh know, running the streets like that."
"Sir," I said quickly, taking hold of the man's hands in desperation. "Sir, you must help me. There is a man behind me, I think he has followed me halfway across London!"
"'alfway across London, yeh say," the man said, smiling. "explains why yeh're out of breath, dear. And so far away from 'ome."
From the shadows of the alley, two more men appeared, smiling in the same way this man was. I looked at them each, and quickly let go of the man's hands.
"I'm sorry, I was just frightened, I didn't realise I-"
"Yeh needn't worry," he assured me, taking hold of my hands this time. "We won't be letting' no men come and find yeh 'ere."
"Sure we'll find yeh somewhere much cosier," the tallest of the men said, looking at me with a blaze in his eyes.
I opened my own wide, staring at them with horror.
"No, no, you can't-"
"Stumbled into our little alley," said the most handsome of the three, and most obviously their 'leader', so to say. "And yeh know what 'appens to pretty girls who find themselves in our alley."
"Please, sirs, I ask only for your help!"
"We can help alright," said the man who still held my hands. In the blink of an eye, he had turned me to face the other two men, pinning my arms behind my back. I tried to struggle free, but he only gripped on tighter.
"Let me go!" I pleaded, tears starting to form in my eyes. "Please, I need your help!"
They all sniggered, and the 'leader' of the three pushed the taller one aside.
"Seems an innocent girl," he muttered to the other two. He smiled devilishly at me. "I'll be the first to 'ave 'er."
I opened my mouth in a silent scream, trying to struggle again, but my arms started to ache from the effort. My legs kicked out at him, but the man holding me pulled my arms tighter as punishment for my actions.
"Just let me go," I whispered, helpless by this point. "Please, let me go, let me go…" I repeated those three words senselessly as the 'leader' touched my cheek tenderly. Almost too gently. It was as if he were lulling me into a false sense of security.
"We'll be gentle enough," he said gently, kissing my neck eagerly. I winced, but could not help but allow him to do so. I groaned in protest as he nipped my neck and earlobe, but it did no use.
I only became more alert as he started to rip at the neckline of my dress. No longer caring even if my arms were to be snapped straight off, I moved, pressing my back as far towards the man holding me as possible, escaping him for a simple second.
As I said, a simple second.
The man was determined, and took a small pocket knife from his coat. I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as he brought the knife close to my dress, cutting the material.
"It'll all be over soon enough," he whispered into my ear, his breath warm.
With painful slowness, his hand moved to my skirts, lifting them.
"Help me," I whispered, thinking them the last words I would use.
All of a sudden, I no longer felt that hand. The warm breath was gone, and I could feel the cold air of someone passing by. I dared not open my eyes, even when the man who had a hold of my arms let go, gasping out in pain. I collapsed to the floor, not looking up at the scene before me.
I heard the sound of furious voices, and a fourth voice that I did not recognise.
"Listen," said the voice of the 'leader'. "Yeh want yeh're own girl, fine, but this one's ours."
"Yours?" the fourth, low voice said, followed quickly by the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I winced, covering my ears frantically as I had done before. The rain still fell mercilessly, deafening some of the sound.
I then felt the presence of someone standing over me. I looked up carefully, unable to see clearly who the man was. I assumed- or, at least, hoped- this man was my friend rather than foe.
"Be glad I wouldn't cut your throats out as I would to any other man in your position," he growled, his stance determined.
The three men looked at each other, their faces angry rather than scared. At once, they scrambled to their feet, running in a clumsy manner.
"Keep your whore, then!" one cried out, his voice echoing. I clenched my fists, still frightened. My face was hidden by my arms, and I could not summon myself to look up at the man who had saved me- I say that he saved me, although I had no idea if what those men had thought he would do after they left was true or not.
A firm hand came to my shoulder, though it shook me with the slightest of pressures. I cried out in surprise, although it must have sounded like pain to the man. His hand retreated immediately, but I could feel he was still near.
"Look up," he demanded softly. At the very sound of his voice I started to tremble, despite the fact that it could just have easily been the rain. I assumed the man also started to notice the rain, although it had been pouring for quite some time, as he lay a coat on top of me.
"Look at me," he repeated, but again, I could not move. The man sighed, and without another word turned me to look into my face. I was forced all of a sudden to look at him, and gasped. I know it was rude of me, but I could not help it. The man was as pale as death, and all in all his features led little to the idea he may have been a kind man.
He lay a hand on my arm, as if examining for cuts and bruises. I winced, my arms still aching. The man quickly snapped his arms once more to his side, staring at me with both curiosity and shock.
"Did they hurt you?" he asked.
"No," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.
Without warning, the man gathered my in his arms, pulling me towards his chest. I stiffened, my eyes closed tightly. I wished to cry out, to tell him either to let me be or make his business done, but he seemed to take his pleasure slowly. His cheek rested on the top of my head, and he held me with a firm grip.
As I waited, though, I noticed something. The man had neither touched my flesh nor spoken such a word indicating the action.
He was shaking, though. It may have been laughter or it may have been tears, but all I knew was that he did either.
"Please," I whispered as I gained my senses. "Please, before…before that, I asked- I need to find my father."
Slowly, the man held my shoulders and looked into my eyes.
"Lucy, your father was long dead and buried. That is what you told me."
I shook my head.
"You are mistaken, sir. I have only today arrived from York."
He sighed sadly, nodding in an understanding manner.
"That is where you have been all these years? I assumed you would simply wait in that one place. How very, very foolish of me."
"Sir?"
"Can you walk?" he asked, changing the subject. Out of my often obedient nature, I moved, attempting to stand, but could not.
"He will still be looking for me," I murmured.
"If you can not walk, then," he said as he started to pick me up in his arms. I weakly pushed him away, not wishing to be handled. I was ignored, though, and had no choice but to be carried.
We began to move, and a certain peace came over me. That was, until I realised the direction we had taken. I put a hand on his shoulder, catching his attention. My voice was still so weak that I doubt he would have heard me without looking at me first.
"I had come from the other direction. That was where I had run from."
"I know," he said in an even tone, still walking on, not looking back.
"Then we must turn around. My father will not find me if we are even further away."
"You do not remember, Lucy? I held your hand when we buried your father, you are mistaken."
"Who is Lucy?" I asked quietly.
At this, he finally stopped. We looked at each other, his features livid, mine dazed and confused. I was too weak, too frightened, to be concerned any more.
"Arsenic, she told me," he muttered. "Of course, taken improperly, effects could be different. Far too different. A wife dead or a wife who can not remember her name? I suppose it doesn't matter, really."
I tried to make sense of his words, but found that I could not. They only mixed in the word before it and made nonsense of the word to come.
"Who is Lucy? Who spoke of arsenic?"
"Dear, if you can not remember your own name, you will not at all remember a simple matter of the landlady."
"I have had no landlady," I said a little louder. The man hushed me, and did not halt. If anything, he picked up the pace.
"You must take me back," I said earnestly. "I have no stomach for such jokes as these. Put me down and allow me to find my father."
Only at this moment did all reality sink into me. My weak attempts at freedom started to gain passion as I thrashed like an animal, crying out for him to let me go. There was not a soul on the streets, and not a light turned on. The man only seemed to increase his pace, hurrying me to whatever place it was for me to be taken.