AN: I should mention I'm going by the book, but the film has a couple of interesting idea's that I've incorporated. Also, because of Evie's foul mouth and bad habits, the rating has been increased just to be safe
Evie sighed as she took the last swig of her beer before depositing the empty can bottle in the trashcan. Tonight had been shit. She had been on yet another 'date' on the suggestion of her closest friend Gemma.
Gemma was, for the lack of a better word, insane. She was loud, ditzy, and a bit of a narcissist. Yet at the same time she was funny and surprisingly intelligent. However, she also had a tendency to get in others business, as Evie knew all to well.
Evie was for the most part, liked to think of her self as shy. Some would like to digress and think of her as bitch. But most of all she was quite independent, and if there was one thing she truly hated, it was other people getting in her business. Especially when it came to anything to do with romantic relationships.
Unfortunately, Gemma was one of those girls who just loved to play matchmaker, not matter how unwilling the participants. She had told Evie several times, that as she was studying abroad, she should be 'expanding her cultural awareness'. In Gemma's twisted world thismeant dating lots of British boys.
Gemma's idea of dates usually involved setting her up with a friend of somebody's brother's cousin twice removed, or some similar arrangement. Understandably, this was quite annoying. Evie had tied to subtly refuse Gemma's offers of dates, but of course, Gemma had managed to invite somebody along without Evie's knowledge.
Take tonight, for example. Gemma, being an up and coming young actress and theatre buff, had persuaded Evie, to accompany her to a performance of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing at The Globe. Evie had reluctantly agreed on the grounds that while she was studying in London, she should actually do something of cultural worth for once.
Of course, Gemma had managed to drag somebody along. Upon entering the restaurant, she was encountered with Gemma, her flavor of the week boyfriend, Paul or some other p name, and his flat mate. She was then forced to engage in the most awkward conversations she had ever had in her life, as her 'date' Dominik was a Polish immigrant with only a rudimentary knowledge of English. An Evie was far from a skilled conservationist; there were long periods of awkward silence through the night.
When Evie confronted Gemma with this little setback, all she got was a blank look.
"But I thought you're taking Russian." Gemma said, as she reapplied her signature icy pink lipstick.
"Damn it Gemma, he's from POLAND. Not Russia. He speaks POLISH." Apparently, languages weren't Gemma's strong point.
It only got worse from there. Gemma was a flake and had forgotten to tell her were to be groundlings at the theatre- that meant standing for three hours. Rather than subject her feet to that torture, Evie had decided to not so stealthily sneak off. It's not like she would see the kid again, and it was somewhat of a polite way to tell Gemma to fuck off in her personal affairs.
After a pit stop at a store for some beer and a pack of cigarettes, Evie made her way to the closest underground station. After nearly killing herself after the heel of one of her shoes got stuck in grating on the millennium bridge, she stopped to watch the sunset over the Thames, providing a moment of peace before she had to get on the underground for the long, hectic and often delayed ride home.
Forty-five minutes later she found herself sitting in the middle of the small park not far from her flat. It was a tradition of hers after a particularly stressful day, to head for the park and unwind on the lawn with a can of beer and her mp3 player. It was a peaceful haven away from the hustle and bustle of London.
After depositing her beer and lighting a cigarette, she returned to her bench. Upon hear arrival she discovered that someone had occupied her spot. Instantly, she recognized him. It was the man from the park. It had nearly been a month, but his features were unmistakable.
His eyes, the lightest most intense blue she had ever see met her own. He was an albino. She had never seen one in real life… and she realized that she had been staring.
Embarrassed, she sat down on a bench near his. As she smoked, she thought about asking him why he had been shot, but that was quite a personal thing to ask. Besides, she doubted he even remembered her. He had been in bad shape and was delirious, and coupled with her intense dislike of hospitals cutting her visit short; there was practically no chance of her recalling her.
Silas had once again returned to the traumatic lifestyle he had endured as a child. He was an urchin on the street, a freakish undesirable. His life without Opus Dei was filled with sin and humiliation. He had to sin to survive, reluctantly returning to his mainstay of pick pocketing.
However, he vainly tried to retain some holiness in his life, although it was a hopeless He only stole when absolutely necessary from the shadier characters of the city. Still, he knew that this was not right. He drifted throughout London in a haze of constant despair, preferring to only go out under the cover of night, just like the ghost that he was. He only ventured out during the day, humiliated to catch a meal and a shower at one of the many shelters.
The worst feeling of all was when he passed the magnificent cathedrals. He longed to go inside and confess his sins, and return to his position as a servant of god. Many times he had nearly walked into them, but he then felt embarrassed of himself and his sins. He felt unclean in the house of god.
He spent his nights in the many parks and bridges in London. We he managed to sleep; it was a tenuous one often interrupted by the flashlights of suspicious policemen and the noises of rowdy drunks. He was wracked with guilt and it was difficult to sleep. The words of the French woman replayed in his mind like a recording. Your God burns murderers, it infected his dreams. Even though he new that the woman was a heathen, an enemy of the church, and a small part of him felt guilty.
It was on a night in very late April, that Silas found himself in a small park in a part of the city called Hammersmith. The area was mostly residential, and was much quieter than that of the city center. He had found a bench to sleep on and was focused on reading a newspaper in the remaining light, when he heard footsteps. He wasn't alarmed until the stopped directly in front of him.
When he looked up, his own blue eyes met grey. The woman quickly realized that she had been staring, and tried to nonchalantly make her way to a nearby bench, and sat looking away from him. Silas examined her profile out of the corner of his eyes, far more discreet than the woman had been.
She was quite tall for a woman, young, and had wavy dark hair. Quite disgustingly she was smoking a cigarette. Yet Silas could not shake the feeling that the woman was vaguely familiar. The woman took a long drag on her cigarette, before exhaling and turning towards him.
"You were that man in the park." She stated, in a matter of fact manner. Apparently, she was American. Silas stared at her blankly. He had been in many parks in the fast few weeks; he couldn't be expected to remember some woman.
"You were bleeding, so I called the ambulance." She continued slowly, sounding unsure of herself. It was then that Silas recognized the woman, reconciling her face with a faint image in his head.
"I'm sorry." She said suddenly. "I probably seem like some freak to you. But if you don't mind, why were you hurt?"
This had caught Silas off guard. He was unsure of how to answer the question. After all, if he said he was shot feeling from the police, it would cause quite a bit of trouble.
"I was robbed and shot." He lied. Yet another sin added to the long list he needed to seek pittance for.
"Ahh. There's been quite a bit of crime lately." She said and seemed to dismiss the matter. "My name's Evie." She said awkwardly.
"Silas." He said after a moment.
"That's an interesting name." She said. Her cigarette was gone, and it was getting dark. She felt like she was being an annoying child with endless questions. If a stranger were to talk to her that much, she would be a little weirded out. She decided it was time for her to leave. "Hopefully I will see you again, Silas." She said, before scurrying off towards her flat, leaving Silas to reflect upon how along it had been since he had heard his own name.