THE ARISTOCRATS #1

00:27

Clementine was having a terrible day. She had woken up feeling miserable from the previous nights events. Even though her nights with Elijah were the few moments she cherished, it did little to alleviate her grief towards her mother. She had decided to take the day off and go to the city and get some shopping done. Of course, her mother no longer have her an allowance so she was left with the remaining dollars in her account and the hefty transfers Elijah so secretly tried to give her.

She had insisted time and again that sending her 10k every week was obscene and unnecessary, but he was stubborn in his decision and even took offence when she claimed it was too much.

"You think I can't afford to send my own girlfriend ten thousand dollars?" He had grunted, curling his lip with arrogance.

So she had relented at his haughtiness, knowing that her words would do little to sway his opinion.

So she strode along the busy streets of London, popping in and out of retail stores. She was almost at her favourite book store, a tiny little hole in the wall owned by an elderly couple. She was unsure of how it was still running, it was almost always empty when she visited and sometimes she thought she was the only one keeping it open. She spotted it as she turned a corner, walking at a leisurely pace and enjoying the crisp air against her cheeks.

Someone grabbed her hair.

She was thrust into an alley, a hand curled within her golden hair. She had no time to cry out as she was dragged further and further into the narrow alley.

"Help!" She wheezed, her voice a pathetic whisper due to the lack of oxygen being sent to her brain.

"Shut the fuck up," someone sneered, shoving her hard against the wall. "You don't talk, I don't knock you out. That's how this works."

Clementine choked and slid down the wall, her various bags flying every which way. Her attacker was a middle aged man around her mother's age, with a receding hairline and hallow cheeks. He was slightly hunched, holding a thin knife in his left hand which was wrapped with bandages. He looked like the type of man that sat in the side of the food path with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other while he whistled at every lady that walked by. This was the type of man that her father would warn her about.

Her eyes caught on the knife in his hand. She knew that London was notorious for stabbings, but she never thought she'd be on the receiving end of one.

She stared at him wide eyed, hyperventilating while kneeling on broken beer bottles and cigarette butts. She could feel them slicing the skin of her knees and palm, but couldn't feel the pain yet. All she felt was undiluted fear. This was how women died. Alone in an alley by the hands of a man.

"You say a single word and I'll beat the s-"

Clementine began screaming. She wasn't dumb, she had learnt that acting crazy and being loud was the best way to attract attention and scare off any potential predators. Unfortunately, her attacker was also not entirely stupid.

A swift knock to her head and Clementine went flying. Her head smacked against the ground as she went skidding along the cement. Her groan of pain was cut off as he grabbed her hair and wrenched her neck to face him.

"I told you to shut the fuck up, nasty bitch," he leered, a golden canine shining in the light. "You don't know how to listen to instructions?"

"I'm sorry, please let me go," she sobbed, yelping as he kicked her side.

The tip of his boot was metal, and it hurt when it made impact with the soft skin of her waist.

"Fuck!" She screamed as he stomped on her hand.