Fire. It was everywhere. The baker's eyes burned from the blinding flames that engulfed the bake room. It had started out all so simple. Three words. "I love you." She had whispered to the barber. She remembered his haunting glare, his stinging words, and his blunt blows. She remembered the look in his eyes as her adopted son slit his throat. She also remembered her adopted son tripping into the oven that was meant to kill her instead, leaving her all alone. And now she stood here, in the middle of a flaming bake house, a homemade hell. This was the thought of a fitting death in the barber's eyes, burning with the rest of his useless victims underneath the ground. Luckily though, he forgot about their little sewage plant underneath, and the baker was able to sink under into the sewers and escape her death. She walked for about fifteen minutes, then crawled out, ending up in an alley a few streets over from her shop. Although she knew it wasn't smart, decided to go back. She would leave eventually, yes, but she needed to collect her things and say a proper goodbye to her home.
She slunk through the door, thankful that the flames hadn't risen yet. Sighing, she walked into her room for the last time. She got a suitcase out and stuffed in a few dresses, then went to her dresser and grabbed her bottle of perfume and the picture of Sweeney she kept under her pillow. Even if he did try to kill her, she needed to remember him. She still loved him, and always would. She looked in the mirror at herself, her hand rising up to the side of her face and gently touching the dark bruises left from the man that she loved. Shaking her head and snapping out of her little trance, grabbed her little stash of money under her bed and reached for a hat before running into her shop. She stuffed a few apples and slices of bread into her suitcase. After this was done, she took one last look around her shop. She'd spent her whole life toiling away here, and she always dreamed of getting away, but not like this. Oh well. It was time for her to get away from all this. There wasn't anything holding her back anymore, no handsome barber to wait for, no husband to please, no shop to run, nothing. It was a fresh slate for , and as she stepped onto the huge wooden ship sailing to America, she was finally free.
Three weeks later, the very same baker stepped onto the soil of the new world. With her hat blocking her from the sun, she stood on the docks, inhaling a deep breath. From the looks of it, wherever she was was drastically different from Fleet Street. She could actually...breathe. There was no smog in the air, no mean crowds. People actually seemed nice. All of this was so strange, and didn't like it. She felt so lost.
Her head snapped up when she heard a stranger's voice. In London, nobody ever talked to her unless they were trying to sell her something or steal her money.
She looked up at the man with wide eyes. We're all Americans this strange?
"Oh dear, you gave me quite the fright. But no, I'm quite alright." She decided to play it nice at first, but still curled her hand into a fist behind her back, ready to defend herself if needed.
She stared at the man as his eyebrows furrowed and he asked if she had anywhere to stay. She was definitely used to this from being in London. She'd seen the whole "poor dear, come back to my place and warm up" trick thousands of times, and wasn't going to fall for it.
"Why are you askin'?" She finally piped up, hoping he would back off.
When she heard the man finally explain herself, she let her guard down a bit. He seemed more respectable, and didn't look like the type of scum that would try to mug or rape her, so she took in a deep breath and told him her name once he was finished talking.
When he offered his hand, she awkwardly reached out to shake it, holding in a gasp at the sharp coldness of his skin. She looked down with surprise as she saw the man's long bony fingers grasp around her hand, and immediately pulled her hand back seconds later. Even for American, this guy was seriously weird.
She then realized he was talking again. When she caught on that he was talking of London, she looked up at his face again, trying to see what he was playing at. "Yes, well I 'ate it, and I'm glad I'm 'ere." She said sharply. "I must go now, I'm afraid, so I'll meet you again another time." She didn't like talking about her past, especially with this stranger. He knew nothing about her, and therefore this conversation was irrelevant. The baker had to find a place to sleep and food to eat, and she definitely wasn't making progress talking to this loony.
She took a few steps away, but whirled around when the man sought after her again, begging her to stay with him, offering her her own room and everything. She raised her eyebrow, trying to find some catch. Why did he care so much? Back in London she could've been starving on the streets and no one would give her so much as a passing glance, and this man was offering her everything on a silver platter. No, this couldn't be right. She looked up at him again, wondering what was going on in that little mind of his. What did he want? Money? Sex? She wasn't willing to give him either, but was in desperate need of a place to stay nonetheless.
She took a while to think out her options. Maybe this man genuinely did want to help. And if he didn't…well, Nellie knew how to defend herself. She could definitely throw a mean right hook, and was sure she had nothing to lose really.
After making her decision, she cleared her throat and stuck her nose in the air, giving the man a dignified look. "Sure." She said (although her voice came out smaller than she would've liked). "But no funny business." She snarled, making sure the man knew she was on her guard and weary of every move he was making.
After the man said she had all of his respect, the baker exhaled a long breath and took another step towards him. She didn't take the hand that he offered, but instead just let him lead the way. had no idea what she was getting herself into.