If you were to visit London you'd probably expect to see a few things that are on every tourists list:
- red bus
- red telephone box
- the T.A.R.D.I.S (actually you're better off looking in Cardiff)
What you wouldn't expect to see is a young girl drenched in blood running for her life through the backstreets and alleys.
That's me by the way. Hello. But don't worry it's not my blood (for once). Apart from grazed knuckles I'm ok; physically at least, mentally… well let's not go there…
I've been running for what feels hours even though I know it only to be a few minutes. My heartbeat and footsteps seem to be in a race against each other, my heart is winning, it's beating out a drum beat my feet will never keep up with.
I sprint down a cobbled road, the stones; worn smooth by forgotten footsteps, shine in the yellow glow of the streetlamps. I run blindly, the backs of the surrounding buildings funnel me like smoke through a chimney, guiding me onwards.
It will be dawn soon. I have to get to…
BANG!
A bullet collides with a bin next to me. They're using silencers to avoid getting caught. Even the noise of the bin being used as target practise won't raise suspicion; people will just think it's hungry Foxes.
I reach the end of the road and dart right. I need to divert them, so I take the obvious route; towards market street where sellers should be setting up their stalls. They'll think I'll try and go somewhere crowded, where I think they won't dare to hurt me with so many witnesses around. But I know better, they'll just take me when no one is looking. So I keep running the obvious route until I see an alleyway hidden behind a skip, I dart into it and become one with the shadows.
I wait. My heartbeat is deafening and the darkness is blinding. I look towards the end of the alley and see a sliver of light, I don't know where it leads to but I can only hope it's close to where I need to be. Careful not to make sound I hurry forwards, I trace the wall with my finger tips feeling my way towards the light.
I emerge on a quiet street drenched in morning light. Careful not to give myself away I crouch down and pull my hood up. I look down the pavement searching for any signs or landmarks I can use to find out my location, but instead I am drawn to a red sun-faded canopy hanging over a shop front. He said he lived next to a café… Before I have time to think it though I stand up and walk towards it, hoping beyond hope that this is the place. I draw closer and see that it is indeed a café, I look beyond it and find a black door with the address 221b in gold nailed to its front.
I run up the steps and hammer the door as hard as I can, nearly pulling the knocker off its hinges. I begin kicking the bottom of the door adding a low thud to the cacophony. Just before I attempt shouting through the letterbox I nearly fall inwards as someone pulls open the door.
"What on earth…" It's an old woman wearing a pink dressing gown, she looks angry and shocked all at once.
I hold up my shaking hands and pull down my hood so she can see my face.
"Please…" I croak. "I need help… "