Unexpected

Chapter 1

Walking alone in the dead of night is the kind of thing females potentially try to avoid. We've all heard the stories, watched the news reports, it's become common knowledge the kind of things that happen to girls who go out by themselves, alone, at night.

Imagine the paranoia that would inundate a young woman who just happened to be occupied in this very predicament. Unfortunately, that young woman just happend to be me.

Originally, I hadn't planned to be out late. It was circumstance and my poor sence of direction that made me drag my small suitcase across the streets of London all while being unsure of my location as well as how to get to my destination. However, after about an hour of vain walking about, I finally remembered my acquaintance, google maps.

Currently, I'm walking along an unpopulated street, phone in hand, following the directions I'm being given.

I take a moment to properly gauge my surroundings. The pavement that I walk upon has several cracks (from what the street lights permit me to see) and I'm reminded of a game I used to play by myself as a child 'don't step on the cracks'.

Moss hide anywhere they find space and when my gaze stretches up, I notice a street lamp flickering. It becomes evident to me that I'm not exactly in the best side of town and I "will reach my destination in less than two minutes" according to my acquaintance whom I have christened Beatrice.

Around me I see several blocks of flats enough to make an estate and I realize my new home will most likely be among them. The only sound aside from my feet and suitcase against pavement is the distinct echo of music from some of the apartments; the sound is so jumbled up with several types of music from different places that it can only be called noise.

Amongst the multiple brown coloured flats my eyes rake the building name tags searching for one particular 'Fox Gate House'. A "you have reached your destination" meets my ears awakening me from my momentary trance and low and behold Fox Gate House in all its falsified glory. The pictures I was shown and the landlord on the phone (who said I should give him a ring when I arrive) described a reasonable place, suitable for living but not anything to write home about. 

This place is certainly nothing to write home about, if I did my father would give me an earful, force me back on a train and enroll me in a university closer to home, which is not an option. The reason why I enrolled in a university several hundred miles away from home, was to be away from my parents and with the half scholarship I was granted they could barely refuse, although they made they're reluctance known.

The entrance to the block of flats is decorated with silver canisters and trampled cigarettes. The patch of grass next to the building littered with red cups, the walls have been graffitied and the entire building seems to scream ghetto. However, for the rent I'm paying, I can't really complain but I probably should have checked the place out myself before deciding to move in. 

I'd had the keys mailed to me so getting in the building wasn't a problem however as I climbed up the greenish coloured staircase looking for number ten the smell began to hit me. Tobacco made its way to my nose first, followed by another intense odour which was to me nameless, the smell so potent all I could do was use my fingers to plug my nose as I breathed through my mouth.

I was yet to see anybody on the way up which I was grateful for because I wasn't quite sure how I would address them as I've never been the social kind of person. Throughout my life I had always enjoyed my own company rather than anyone else's. I never considered myself lonely due to the fact I conversed with my mind instead of other people. I was that way all through primary school however, I had managed to make a friend during secondary school.