runaway

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

The sun had barely laid to rest when the flat door closed behind its occupant, leaving the residence in an all-encompassing silence. It was an empty silence, completely impenetrable. Even the splash of rain against the clouded windows failed to sound within the space, the four walls harboring the silence. Its aging structure and chipped brick defense somehow remained sturdy against the London weather. Only the moonlight and echo of vacancy dwelled within the four walls.

The same could not be said for the bar with an unmemorable name located a few blocks to the right. Rain pelted the metal roof, each droplet ringing through the small bar. It drowned out the music playing in the background, some songs from a time period too early for anyone but the owner to remember or recognize. Voices, the same ones who frequented the establishment, boasted from the right side, several sat at the bar and bleeding into the table beside.

The front door opened with a chime of the bell, though no one bothered to acknowledge it. The newcomer walked straight to the bar, then behind it. His big, fat belly struggled to slide between the opening, though somehow he always managed.

Clasping his hand on the other man's shoulder, he said, "How's it going, James? Any non-regulars tonight?"

"Oh, loads!" James chuckled. "It's that time of the week again?"

"Yes sir! Gotta collect the money from the safe so I can keep this dump up and running." He disappeared behind the back, doing as he so claimed, before reemerging several moments later.

"Alright, James. You keep those knuckleheads in line over there," he said with a smirk, shimming between the opening once more.

"Bye, Mr. Donald!" a few of the regulars hollered with a slur towards the man departing with a roll of his eyes.

He never did acknowledge the most loyal regular, claiming the stool three from the end. Though tonight, the most loyal regular hunched over his half-empty glass with utmost despair entering and exiting his body with each breath. His eyes had never been bright since the moment they met a year ago, but James couldn't help notice they were near black with distress and his aura brooding rather than energetic.

Raising his glass towards the bartender, the young man, the most loyal regular, said, "Can I get just one more?"

James sighed. "That's what you said about the last one."

"And I'll probably say it about the next one too. So, are you going to pour me one or not?"

"You sure you're good, man?" James asked, preparing yet another drink for him.

"I'm great!" he said, looking towards his somewhat mate and forcing a sloppy smile on his lips. "I'm doing absolutely great."

"Okay," James said with utmost doubt, setting the newly prepared drink in front of him. "Well, just let me know if you need anything."

The young man nodded before returning to his hunched over state, crawling back into himself for the remainder of the evening.

There they sat, the handful of regulars, amongst the sound of rain hitting metal and decades old music. Their chatter stayed within their gathered group on one end of the bar and drifting into the other table, the young man sat three stools from the other end the only exception. It stayed that way for hours upon end, the end not in sight until about one A.M. It was usual, typical, routine, uneventful. No one expected any different. No one expected the bell to ring at the door opening at sixteen til.

With shock and confusion glistening in them, every eye turned towards the door, the beat-down door revealing a not-beat-down person.

Her heels clicked with each step on the wood floors. They didn't know what it was, but the regulars failed in their every attempt to look away. The click of her heels stopped, dead in their tracks as she took in the ran-down bar. Their eyes took in every inch of her while hers took in every inch of them.