My Name Is Talise Knowels, This Is My Story.

Chapter 5: Blood Guilty Streets

Chapter 5:

Blood Guilty Streets

I must have fallen asleep for I awoke with a start. A short sharp shrill scream came from outside. I quickly jumped off of the bed and ran out to see what the noise was, my guts just about turned over. There, in the middle of this alley was Mrs Basset sobbing and cradling a body.

A blood drenched small body.

In fact it was a body I recognized. It was Jimmy Basset, her son. But that was impossible! Jimmy Basset had disappeared  over 2 weeks ago in the night! And now he had turned up dead his own alley? I started to breath heavily and swallow hard. He had bruises and cuts all over his face; rings were under his eyes that shone a dark menacing shade of purple; a gaping hole beset his chest, staining his shirt with deep red blood. A shiver went down my spine.  He was only 13. Mrs Bassets wailing had caused the other women to come out of their shacks and see what was going on. They too stared in disbelief at what they saw, then ran to Mrs Basset in order to comfort her. I suddenly felt weak, my legs felt as if they would not hold me up any more so I sank to my knees. How many more were going to end up like this? From what I had overheard at the tavern, people were turning up like this all over the alleys, from Nottingham to Brighton and now London! Who was doing this and why? I felt as if us alleys were being hunted somehow, I don’t know why or even how it could be possibly true. But I did.

Jimmy. Jimmy was a nice boy, always polite and always had a smug smile on his constantly dirt covered face. He had been a damn good pick pocket as well, he normally took on the young bloods who don’t know what to do in the bustling streets of London. I remember how he brought me a single rose one time with his only shilling because I had took a fever from this virus that was going around in the alleys. He was such a sweet boy, and now he was gone forever.

As I stared at his mother cradling him and the other women crowding around, I sank more and more into despair. I wanted to get up and leave but my legs would not respond. A fat painful tear glistened down my cheek and burned through my skin. I hated crying, I never ever cried unless I had to, but it was just the sight of Jimmy that made me into desolation.  I never cried at men or women dying, I would feel terribly sad don’t get me wrong, but it’s just that Jimmy was so young. He had his whole life to look forward to whereas older people had had a goodish life, and now someone else had stolen Jimmy’s years.

A warm, reassuring hand abruptly appeared on my shoulder. I looked up with watery eyes, I did not see who it was at first for the tears but I could tell that person from a mile away. It was Zeph.

“Come on Fire, let’s get you out of here.” He soothed as he gently picked me up into his arms. I let more tears fall then, but I did not want him to see them so I buried my head into his shirt, wetting him with my tears.

“Zeph, its-its Jimmy, Jimmy’s dea-“ I began but Zeph shushed me. His pace was unusually fast, like he wanted to leave here as soon as possible.

“I know, come on let’s get you somewhere safe” his voice trembled slightly.

“Safe!?” I exclaimed looking up at him, his eyes looked cold and hard as they stared out in front of him. Then, like he suddenly realised where we were, he stopped and looked at me. His eyes more softer now. In the distance I heard more wailing and sobbing. Weird, I thought we were too far away now to hear the women.

“Look, Fire, I need you to do a favour for me ok? And you know that you have to stick to it, because I never ask anyone for favours right?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“You need to keep your eyes on me or just bury your head like you did before; don’t look around, whatever you do ok? Promise me you can do that” he suddenly sounded poignant.

“But why?” I asked astounded. What was it he didn’t want me to see?

“You don’t need to know, just promise”

“I promise Zeph”

 I lied.

I place my head so it felt like I was burying it in Zeph shoulder, but actually I was peering over the top. I looked around, careful not to move my head for Zeph would feel it. As Zeph walked the wailing of women seemed to get louder, but there was no one in sight! What were these women crying about that I could not see? Zeph’s pace suddenly hastened, like he saw something he did not want to see.

“You keeping your face buried in me?” he said.

“Yeah” I replied, trying to make my speech muffled as if I were truly burying my head in his shirt. I looked at a sign on one of the walls; Baxtor Street, we were almost halfway to the boy’s planning shack. The planning shack was no different from any ordinary shack, it was just bigger, had more windows and seats plus a big round table with a map of London and her streets on it. Every morning the boys would meet up here and plan who was going to take what street. It also had a bed in case anybody got into trouble with their wives after midnight.

Zeph suddenly stumbled and slipped sending me crashing to the ground as he tried to steady himself. I landed with a whumph on top of the hard cobbled floor. I cursed loudly, stood up and rubbed my painful thigh which I had landed on as he dropped me.

I saw red.

Red of blood that is, all over my skirts and on my hands. I stared in horror at them, I wasn’t bleeding was I? I checked all around me but I could not find a wound on me that was open. I then looked to Zeph who was cursing to himself as he stood up and brushed himself down, there was blood on him too. Not his blood, but blood from the floor, what he had slipped on. He saw me standing there; blood drenched and wide eyes. His face suddenly went pale but I sensed he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking behind me.

“Don’t turn around ok?” he said slowly as he took a step towards me like I was a horse about to spook and run.

“W-w-why?” I asked terrified

“Just don’t ok? Keep looking at me; don’t move whatever you do, I’m coming to pick you up ok?” he said as he took another step towards me.

I wanted to trust Zeph and his words, but I had to know what was behind me. I had to know where this blood was coming from.

And then I saw it.

I should have known what it was, after all nothing else can make that much blood when severely wounded. The body was a man’s body. Dressed in finery and a silk suit, I could tell he had already been pillaged for his gold coins and pocket watch but then a thought struck me: what was a rich man doing in the alleys dead? Had he tried to follow his Pickpocketer into the alleys then got stabbed by one of us? No. that wasn’t our style. Before I had the chance to take in his dead expression Zephs hand covered my eyes and he roughly picked me up into his arms again.

“I told you not to turn around!” he softly reprimanded me.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I cried into his shirt. I wasn’t looking up for anything now, because I knew why there was so much waling . There must have been bodies all over the alleys, the bodies that had gone missing weeks ago. How many hours had I spent with the mothers and sisters of the missing? Telling them that they would come home and everything would be ok again. A little laughter of sadness came into my mind. They had come home after all; dead.