Isabella

The girl was going to pass out. She was absolutely sure of it. So much blood, in her mouth tasting like rusted pennies and all over her body. She was attacked and left for dead in a alley. Through the light of the streetlamps two figures approached her. She tried to slide backward but her muscles refused to work. As if she had been dancing for hours and her muscles gave out. The figure drew closer and finally were close enough to identify. Two pale blondes one male one female. The male squatted beside and she looked into his face. Two eyes shone as red as rubies stared back at her. She screamed and kicked but he just stared.
"Now, are ya finished with the dramatics?" He spoke with a twangy voice she hadn't heard in England.

Especially not in 1934.

She slowly nodded and he smiled at her. "Now I'm Peter and over there's Char. We're gonna take real good care 'a you. Okay?"

Once again she nodded. "Imma need some words Lil Bit." she cleared her throat,

"Okay. And my name is Isabella. Isabella Meriwether."