[Authors Note: So, I know I shouldn't keep making new stories but what can I say? Marla Singer... Bellatrix Lestrange... Who would not find that hot? Anyway, have a read and see what you think ...Lou x

Chapter 1- 'Going Down'

'Nothing could bleed that much.' That's all that Marla Singer could think as she made her way along the high street, a cigarette hanging listlessly from one corner of her mouth as she collided with disgruntled pedestrians. After arriving in London at midnight and deciding sleep would be unachievable, she had resolved to go and watch a movie. Saw 3D, to be precise. She took a gulp from her hip-flask as she rounded a corner, finding herself in a much more secluded back alley.

The sound of her heels upon the cold concrete pavement rang in her ears as she replayed parts of the movie over in her mind. 'For one thing, that guy from Linkin Park, it wouldn't have been that bad, surely? I mean, yeah, the guys skin was being torn off, but...'

Her inebriated mind found it too hard to cope with both walking and thinking, so she began to sway dangerously to her left, nearly toppling over a collection of bins that she had failed to notice in the poor light. A small pout appeared upon her plump lips, she suddenly felt as though the universe had done her a wrong. Suddenly she span around to walk backwards, taking a drag as she did so and cupped her hands to her mouth, slurring up at the buildings either side of her

"Hey... Jackasses! Look whereyar puttin' your trasshnext-ime!" before shakily exhaling a cloud of smoke, barely restraining giggles at the various curse words and threats she received.

Reaching the end of the ally, the drunken woman jerked her head from left to right, apparently trying to ascertain which way she was to stumble next. To her left, more shadowy paths leading to the unknown, undoubtedly very exciting... or to her right, a brightly lit phone box, placed rather inconspicuously. She puzzled to herself for a moment before shrugging and heading towards the phone, thinking 'Might as well do something that's not likely to kill me, for once.'

So into the cramped telephone box she went, taking a mental note never to use one again. She wasn't squeamish but somebody had peed on the floor... not to mention all the used condoms strewn about the place.

The thought of getting laid in such a horrid place made her laugh out loud. It wasn't as though she hadn't done it before, though, to be fair. She frowned and blocked that particular thought, taking another large sip from her hip flask before dropping it into her satchel and picking up the phone.

She held it between her head and shoulder, as she rummaged through said satchel for some English money, eventually producing a two pound coin. Switching the receiver to her hand, she considered who she was actually going to call and laughed giddily at herself.

She hadn't the faintest clue. For a second she considered calling Tyler but quickly dismissed the idea as stupid, a) because it would cost a bomb and b) because he was the whole reason she'd flown to this miserable rock in the first place. To get away from him.

The whole blowing up most of the city thing was cute while it lasted but soon he started acting strange again. It's the same with most multiple personality cases, once one personality is destroyed another takes its place. Sad but whatever. She had other things to be doing.

Like standing in a piss ridden phone box in the middle of London, guiltily browsing over discarded ads for 'Horny singles near you.' She closed her eyes and let herself slump against the wall. She was a horny single. Almost laughing, she grimaced and brought her hand to her brow, already regretting not bringing Mr. Jiggles. That's right. Marla had named her dildo. It was unfortunate that he had to be left behind, but alas, she had to pack but the essentials.

Taking her thoughts away from her groin, with great difficulty, she managed to lean over the key pad, figuring that she'd call the dirty chat-line just for the hell of it. Could just strike up a conversation with 'em, see how long she could keep them on the line. Story of her life. She slipped the coin into its designated slot, dropping it first time (just about missing the urine puddle) and quickly grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up straight away regardless of the large 'No smoking' sign pasted directly in front of her.

She glared at the gradually blurring letters as she tried to copy them out, leaning so close that her nose actually touched paper. '0...1...8...5...8...4... Did I type 8 already?' Suddenly, the ring tone started to play and she leant back casually, her free hand shooting automatically to her head, combing through her messy auburn locks as though she were expecting to talk to somebody face to face.

Then something happened that Ms Singer was most defiantly not expecting. Instead of being connected to some seedy little chat line, she began to sink into the floor. The whole telephone booth, just disappearing beneath the concrete. She thought for a minute that she might be having a nervous breakdown but she doubted that this is how it felt.

Most muggles would've screamed or attempted to get out by now but Marla was stood with her eyes closed, her back to the wall and her hand clasped firmly over her mouth, too busy trying keep down the large amount of alcohol she'd been consuming over the last 12 hours.

The box quickly came to a halt, her eyes snapping open as the doors did. What she beheld, quite simply, she could not describe. As she stepped out of the 'Televator' the only words that she could seem to form were

"Oh... Fuck."

Chapter 1 done! Hope you like it so far... Reviews are like sex, sex me up ;) ...Auntie Lou x