Stop 'im

No Place Like London

"Why did you invite her?"
"It's an office party, she works in accounting."
"She does? I've never seen her."
"She's quiet."
"I would never have guessed!"

Penelope moved away from her co-workers, who were putting no effort in trying to make their discussion about her a secret. Yes she was quiet, so what? A life alone can do that to you. At the age of twenty-five, Penelope was yet to spend even a moment with someone she cared for. She had no family, no friends. She had numerous foster families, though. They picked her, thinking that a quiet child would be "easy". But her silence made them feel uneasy, so she never truly had a home.

Penelope was only sure of one thing, the only constant in her life, London. Her blood flowed with the heart beat of the beautiful city. It was part of her just as much as she was part of it. There's no place like London. She thought.

Grand structures grew into the sky. The enormity of different architecture was rich and a magnificent feast for the eyes. The famous Big Ben was her favourite part of London. It reminded her of each new day with the chime of its glorious bell.

Just now she heard the clock strike ten, and it appeared as if the office party she was supposed to attend, was escalating. Being the introvert she was, Penelope decided to leave. Why did she even come? No one noticed as she left, leaving her question unanswered.

Penelope had to cross the millennium bridge to get home. With her well paid job, she could afford a decent flat on Fleet Street. A remarkable achievement for someone her age. 

She was use to walking the streets by herself, not afraid of potential muggers or rapists. But she was always thankful of the panic alarm she kept in her bag, especially now that it was getting darker. In the summer, she felt safe to walk around at this time because it wouldn't get dark yet. However with it approaching winter, it was getting dark by six sometimes five o'clock.

As Penelope was walking down the busy street, she was suddenly pulled into a small alley between two buildings. Ready to fight, she swung around to face the assailant, the alarm in her hand. She was about to trigger it when she realised it was just a homeless woman.
But she was still weary, the rough looking woman could try and mug her.

"'Ow about I read ye palm, dear? All I ask is for alms. For a miserable woman?" The crone begged.
Penelope tried to withdraw from the alley, but the beggar grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to her hunched figure. At this distance, Penelope was able to get a better look at the woman. Greying yellow hair was draped over a dirt covered scabby face, as she looked at Penelope's hand. Hooded ice blue eyes peered into Penelope's sea green ones. "What's you name, dear?" The beggar inquired.
"Shouldn't a fortune teller know that?" Penelope retorted.
"Your name is deceptive of your true fiery manner, Penelope." The woman laughed. "It's a shame that such small hands will have to bare so much." She muttered as she looked back at Penelope's palm.
Despite herself, Penelope was intrigued. The woman made no sense, but her aura and attention was captivating.

The woman looked up again, making Penelope gasp. The ice blue eyes were no longer hooded; instead sanity shimmered in their depths. "Stop 'im." the beggar pleaded. Then she grabbed the younger woman's head, and hit it with her own. Penelope collapsed to the flour, falling instantly unconscious.