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Chapter eight
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Everything in sight lays a small cover of dark, musty dust. Even the small, sweet faces of the young girls and boys skipping past.
Bicycles with baskets full of food and newspapers skip around me, the riders faces set into deep concentration. The sound of cheerful natters embrace my hearing, all warm and scent full.
Looking down at the plain night sheet that typically hands limply on my body, I feel self-conscious of the difference between the average people around.
Slightly tipping the bag from my back, I peer inside, delighted to see a huge puffing of red velvet. I bring it out, and the other things become clear into my vision. Only they are all the same. Bills and checks and coins clash at the bottom of the bag, all in the beautiful style of the victorians.
I scan the street, searching for a place to slot and change.
A sharp corner catches my attention and with out hesitation I bring myself forward to deposit myself into it.
Turning my bare, cold legs round the corner I hear a sharp cough beside me, hinting in a strong cockney accent.
A dirt ridden man imposter stands before me. With a dishevelled fistful of dark hair peeking out before a small begrimed emerald hat. His mouth lights up into a smile, showing a huge arc of yellow, foul teeth. A waft of edging pain excretes as the mans hand snatches at my wrist, tugging it to him and playing with my soft pale fingers.
"So wha' we go' 'ere then? Eh." He cackles, his voice holding the charmingly echo of an east end accent.
I begin to tug at my arm, trying to get the hand of me, but the grip tightens, sending lashing agony to exceed in me.
" 'Ere now, no need ta' be scared, me ent' gonna hurt ta, 'ittle apple. Not if ya' nice that is."
His words carry a sort of venom, and I squeeze my fist to my bag, instructing security over it.
I hope he doesn't notice it, if so then my life here will be full of desperation, and aching. Not that it won't already be.
His eyes skin down my highly visible body. He lifts his eyes up to mine, curving his face into a menacing smile.
"Came ere' for one thin', naw' I'm gonna leave with something betta' " he spits, his hand thrusting to my thigh and slowly, gently bringing them down right to my ankle.
I flinch away from him. I know what he's going to do, he is going to take my prize, use me and distraught me into a laying heap.
I need a savour, but I haven't got one. I'm going to have sort this horrific mess myself.
"Ah. Look." He said, patting the small lump in my belly. "Someone's already beat me to the job" he swats, wincing away from me laughing.
"Ah well, doesn't matter eh. We can still 'ave a good time." He smiles, his hand pressing to my forehead and wiping a long strand of hot red curls out my face.
Then his arms tightly embrace me, trapping me in a harsh crowd up spelling limbs. He smashes my body into the wall, and I'm left spurting out as the pain crashes into me.
"Get away from me!" I scream, my hands leaping out at the mans face. But he only smiles harder, and seeming to take comfort of my torture he smacks his thin, disgusting lips to mine.
His body is leaning over me, and I do the only thing possible at this current state that may leave me free of intimidating plague.
I drive my strong thigh into his crotch, with all the force that remains.
He backs away, crumbling and folding into one, and let's out a unrelenting squeal of pain.
I grab the bag from the cobbles and take of. Flying back into the bus street, and round another more cleaner corner.
I quickly browse around, truly admitting to the lonely street before tugging out the dress and suiting myself up.
My long, dead-weight hair falls on my shoulder, twisting in a pure blight of grease.
I twist it in my fingers, taking a small elastic band from the inner pocket of the bag and twist it into an orderly bun.
By the time my hands are finished, I look exactly like a high-classed young lady. Way too rich to be inserting myself into a street like this one.
I follow the alley into a small intersection that looks like a park.
Trees glisten and dance in the soft wintery breeze, and the grass is full of rotting, autumn leaves.
Winter.
I glance round at the other people in the park. All woman carrying little obscure umbrellas, ranging from deep violets to soft pure rose. Beside them are the men, linking arms with the devotedly dressed women. There top hats edged high and a tailored in soft navy linen.
I follow a young couple in front of me. Gazing at the sweet joy that is visible on their faces. They are obviously in love.
I find it sweet. How others fall in and out of love, just as easily as me and The Doctor did. How soon a sight of them sends a heap of butterflies to swarm through your internal insides and gently trap their fluttering wings inside you.
How if they hurt or endanger themselves you are forbiddenly full of a hurt and anger at who ever or what ever threatens them.
What has happened to me and The Doctor? What has he become?
The dress is bouncing and concealing the bulge in my stomach, for now though.
The woman in front of me squeals out a high giggle, turning her head behind and looking at me for a few second.
She leans her head into the man; which I overheard being called Jeffrey, and begins to whisper a few humouring words that makes a small chuckle from him.
My heart drop as the realisation hits that they are quivering in humour at me.
I slow my footsteps, falling soundlessly further behind them.
What was the laughing at? My hair? My dress? My hands skim through my body, and hair, making sense of what caused their laughter.
I find nothing and sit down in a cold plittering bench.
"Don't worry! They do that to everyone!" A gentle voice says. I turn around to see a slight, thin girl; about my age. With tumbling cascades of ebony, rich hair and a huge tunic of sunset orange blossoming around her.
She smiles reassuringly, bringing her hand forward and rubbing it softly against my bony shoulder. Though she don't seem to mind.
"I'm Lucinda," she greets, placing herself beside me.
"Harriet." I reply.
She looks around the fielding park for a few second and sighs. A deep, hoarse, devastating sigh.
"What's wrong?" I find my self asking, turning to look at her, catching a small tear trickling on her still summer-tanned skin.
"Oh. Nothing." She lies, cutting my off. I straight away know she doesn't want to talk about it to me. A stranger.
I nod anyway, and begin to move out of the seat.
"Wait. You seem lost!" She says, picking herself up and scampering beside me.
"I'm new" I reply, laughing slightly at the puzzlement on her face.
"I've seen you before though! I know I have!" She replies.
She probably has seen a future me before. Or even a past me. Guess that's the bewilderment of time-travel.
"Don't you have anywhere to go then?" She asks, pleasantly.
I shake my head, my head falling down, staring at the dry cracking pavement of slabs.
"You can stay with me. That's if you would like to." She beams, her eyes enlightening in joy.
I look at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and paste a huge, half-false smile on my face.
"I would love to, Lucinda."
