I N S I D E | Your time is over

Prolog

She crossed the street without looking left or right and ran around the next corner way too fast.
Her thoughts raced and she felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
"Quiet," the hooded figure said, as if to herself, to regulate the pounding of her heart. The moonlight was reflected in a window pane and a knife flashed in the darkness.
The figure quickly hid it under a baggy raincoat that was as raven black as everything else on her. She almost merged with the night.

She continued down the street, glancing around furtively. If anyone noticed her now, the game would be over before it even started.
Then, in a shallow part of the Thames, she descended the few steps and bent over the glittering water, over which wisps of mist were drifting.
She had replayed this situation in her head a hundred times so that she knew exactly what to do now.
The figure pulled out the knife and let it slip into the water, this changing color from blue-green to red.
Then she went up a step and took off her shoes, which had left deep imprints in the mud next to the water. She threw them far out into the Thames and then pulled another pair of shoes from a small bag the person had hidden under their coat.
She slipped on the shoes and then climbed the remaining steps to the - fortunately - little-used road.
A look at the digital clock told her that she had misjudged the planning.
Because it was already 3:07 in the morning. Damn it, how could she have miscalculated by an hour? Did it take her longer than she thought for her little "visit"?
But that didn't matter now. Now it was time to get home unseen as quickly as possible.
The figure lowered her arm, noticing a stain on her black leather gloves.
She raised her hand and looked at it.
The little lake gleamed reddish in the moonlight. The person licked off the blood and then walked on. When the lantern was brightly lit, she had to duck into a doorway to avoid being stalked by a nocturnal stroller across the street.
Upon closer inspection, the person exhaled in relief. It was just a drunk on his way home.
Then she could continue on her way towards Downing Street.
Once there, she pulled a note from her bag, which had previously contained her shoes, and pushed it into one of the mailboxes there.
She knew exactly how this person would react to the news and was only too excited to surprise them the next evening.
Because then everyone would get what they deserved. Suum quique.....