• 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓓𝓸𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓻 (𝓓𝓪𝔀𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻) •

𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓩𝓮𝓻𝓸 - 𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓐 𝓝𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓵 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

Y/N L/N loved England, despite the fact that she was forced to turn to prostitution when her husband died, after losing a duel. She lived in the city of Whitechapel, where it was like hundreds of convicts decided to invade the place. The people living in slums, threw buckets of their own waste out the window, where it'll land on the heads of other citizens. The fog of peasoupers made it incredibly difficult to see anything; not even your own hand, and homicide was everywhere.

Everyday, you'd do the same thing over and over again; Go to a man's home, ask for a sexual favor in exchange for a dollar, have sex, collect your dollar, and leave. It didn't matter if you made out protected or not, your bra and corset always had to come off. In the end, you got that one pound; and since you are a prostitute, that small amount of cash felt like hundreds of them.

You felt very accomplished.

However, unlike the other ladies who ended up in prostitution, Y/N had a goal; an ambitious one. You wanted to be Britain's first female surgeon. You'd save your money to buy as many medical books as you could, even when people say "Oh, Are you planning to be a nurse, Miss L/N?", you become dishonest and say "Yes, I am" to avoid being the victim of deep sexism.

Today, you were in the horrible Whitechapel streets, holding a book on human anatomy, trying to find a place to sleep for the night. Your brown dress was brushing the dust off the concrete and your hair was flowing in the cold wind. Despite the massive amount of green fog, you still tried to see where you were going, until someone said your name.

"Y/N!! Over here!"

You turned around, trying to see who called out your name in such an urgent manner. That voice was so familiar to you. It was another woman, who sounded like she was in her mid forties, with a cockney accent. You couldn't see her due to the green haze, so you continued walking; possibly walking past her. But, this was when your left arm was yanked, sending you into a small building by force.

You weren't expecting that and it made your heart beat faster.

Feeling scared, you closed your E/C eyes, before being reassured by the same lady that called out your name earlier, "Relax, Y/N. It's just me, Your friend Abigail," she says, trying to pacify you by caressing one of your cheeks, "Sorry for not giving you a warning before pulling your arm. Sorry, Sorry."

As soon as you reopened your lovely irises, the first thing you saw was indeed Abigail Thurman. You had been best friends with her ever since the day that your husband got shot and you became a widow at will. She was wearing a very similar dress to the one you're currently wearing along with her fair skin; with her long, raven black, curly hair made it look like she hasn't brushed her hair for days, and her eyes were so aquamarine, to the point where it was almost white. She offers you her hand and you take it, getting yourself off the floor.

You smile at her, as she smiles at you, "Thank You, Abbie," you greet her back, taking off your black jacket, "Also, you don't have to apologise all the time."

"Sorry."

You look around the area that Abigail brought you in. It was the lobby of the slum that she and a few other people were crammed into. The place was small, just like the rooms themselves, with a gray carpet that stretched across one side to another. The walls were made out of bricks, but they looked like it was made hundreds of years ago - which it probably was. And the ceiling was just..yuck.

As long you had a place to sleep, you would be happy.

"Look, Y/N, I know that you want to find a place for a goodnight's sleep anywhere but here-," She paused, searching for the correct words to use to complete the sentence, "But, I need to tell you something. Something that I just found out."