The small figure of a child ran through the dark, sleeping town. 'Please don't let him catch me.' Was all the child could think.
The child's small feet slapped against the asphalt. Breath labored, the kid ran and ran and ran until, finally, he came to a dead-end.
He was gasping for air at this point. He turned around to come face to face with the man who he had just escaped,from.

A blond-headed british man with large eyebrows was sitting in his new apartment reading a book, when he suddenly he heard a loud, blood curdling scream.
The man turned to look out his ally facing window to see a small child laying on the ground and a tall man above him, a bloody pipe raised high above his head.
The british man quickly jumped from his seat and out his window. "Stop! Stop, what do you think you're doing?" He shouted, running up and stopping the pipe that was about to hit the small, whimpering child.
"Who are you to stop my business with this child?" The large man with the pipe ask with thick russian accent.
The russian glared at the brit with eyes burning with fire and hatred that startled the brit a bit. The man who had stopped the pipe heard a small whimper behind him.
He whipped around to see the small blonde child staring up at him with frightened blue eyes. The man knelt down in front of the child and softly said, "It's okay, I won't let him hurt you."
The man turned around to see that the russian was no longer in sight. 'Well at least now I don't have to worry about getting hurt now.' The brit thought.
He slowly and carefully collected the child into him arms to take him into his apartment. To his surprise, the boy didn't resist him. The man took the boy into his house and drew him a bath.

"Do you think you can wash yourself?" The brit asked softly as to not frighten the boy.

The boy got a frightened look in his eyes and quickly shook his head, not wanting to be alone in fear of the russian coming back for him. The brit could tell the child was mentally scarred and needed some comfort. The brit nodded and smiled.

The brit soon got the kid bathed and ready for bed. "Oh I forgot, what is your name, lad?" The brit asked the kid.
"A-alfred." Stuttered out the child.
Smiling, the brit told Alfred, "Well that's just a lovely name. My name is Arthur." He bent down to finish tucking him.
Arthur turned to leave when he felt a tug on his shirt. "P-please don't leave me alone." Alfred whispered, looking down.
Arthur knelt to be eye level with him. "Don't worry, I won't." He said, ruffling his hair. "I'll be right back."
Alfred nodded and pulled the blanket up to his face as Arthur left the room.

By the time Arthur came back, Alfred had already fallen asleep. Smiling, Arthur crawled into the large bed next to the small child.
'Goodnight, Alfred.' He thought, turning off the bedside lamp.