The city of London was pretty bloody cold that night. In fact, if Emily Davidson could recall rightly, it was damn near freezing. The forecast had said it was going to be the coldest Halloween in ten years. Emily could see actual frost creeping along the edges of her cracked bedroom window and she could feel the chill penetrate the clothes she wore. Looking through the window, Emily could see that Elsdale Street, her home street, was certainly empty that night. Only the drunk or the desperate would be out in that frost. Emily was the latter.

  The cold would have hopefully discouraged any nighttime strollers as well. Good thing too, for Emily didn't want anyone witnessing her escape from home. For the last time.

  She picked up a hoodie - which was two sizes too large - and draped it over her shabby rock concert T-shirt, a grey woollen shirt and a deep blue jumper. Her denim trousers, ripped at the knees due to wear and tear and later justified by herself as a fashion statement, hugged her legs with a tight embrace to resist the cold.

  She had hoped that her clothes were going to help her against the frost, even though they were the only clothes she could wear. If she was to suffer cold knees for a chance at freedom, then so be it.

  She knew that her trainers were muddy, ripped in places and were in desperate need of replacing. But they had to do for now. Emily didn’t have the luxury of choice.

  The rucksack was heavy. It dug into her shoulders. That was to be expected. She had a lot to carry. If she was to escape and later survive, she needed everything that she was taking with her.

  Standing on the stairs, she quickly threw a cautious glance to her father’s bedroom door. It was closed and the light was still off. Emily strained her ears to listen for a sound of movement, or anything at all. Stay asleep. Stay asleep.

  But only silence greeted her eardrums. Satisfied that danger was averted so far, she turned back to the steps and gingerly stepped down the stairs.

  One step at a time, she begged her body. One. Simple. Step. At a time.

  The stairs had been Emily’s enemy for many years. Anytime she needed to grab a glass of water in the middle of the night, to sneak out of the house to meet her friends or to just get out of the house for a while, the treacherous stairs would always creak with a single nerve-shredding groan. Always loud enough to stir him awake and cause him to rage. A rage that would be quickly followed with swift and vicious punishment. The bruises on her back, legs and arms were certain proof of that.

  If she was to get to where she wanted to go, the stairs could not betray her.

  Not now, not tonight.

  She knew that she wouldn't see the end of the week if she stayed here any longer…

  Mercifully, the stairs seemed to decide not to get her killed. They remained quiet. Even the fourth step from the top, which was the usual culprit, had no intention of snitching on her. For once, the universe was on her side.

  But Emily didn't waste time relying on her newfound luck.

  She reached the bottom and crept towards the front door at the end of the entrance hall. She reached up and slid the door locks off carefully, placed her thin fingers on the door handle and twisted it.

  The rusted metal squeaked loudly against the strain.

  The hairs on her neck stood up on end.

  Emily whipped her head to the stairs.

  She froze.

  Her eyes twitched up to the top step. Her ears strained to listen for the slightest sound of movement… Nothing. No sounds from his bedroom. No sign of him. All was clear. All was good.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Emily twisted the handle fully and the door came loose. It swung silently backwards, revealing Elsdale Street before her. The sounds of Hackney's nightlife shot over the night air. A dog barked from across the road. The dog’s calls echoed through the area.

  Sirens from emergency services reverberated against the brick walls of the homes that lined both sides of the street. Emily stuck her head out of the house and looked up and down the street. She pushed back her braided dark-brown hair to see. There was no one in sight.

  She stepped out of the door and slowly closed it behind her. It clicked shut. She gasped a final sigh of relief. She was out. But…

  The sound of a door opening from across the street froze her in her tracks.

  She turned to see a woman leaving her own house that faced Emily’s. Emily soured.

  It was Mrs. Gordon, a middle-aged veterinarian who worked in the city. A nosy neighbour, always intrigued in the business of others and never holding much regard for the principles of privacy. She had a pinched face, all pursed lips and stretched skin. She was a woman who liked gossip and loved scandal. Emily never liked her and Gordon detested Emily in return.

  She watched Emily with sharp eyes and a stern expression. Emily thought on her feet as fast as she could. She turned and waved genially.

  “Happy Halloween.” she said, with as much trepidation as one would have in their voice if they were walking on cracking ice.

  Mrs. Gordon nodded briskly at the wishing and walked towards the road. But she still watched Emily with her judging gaze. She stared at Emily’s cut lip and dirty clothes. She made an uncomfortable expression.

  Emily met her invasive look with a defensive stare as she herself walked towards the street. Her fists clenched and her jaw tightened. The both of them reached the wooden gates that were locked at the ends of their front gardens. As if in synch, they both opened their gates and closed them without taking their eyes off eachother.

  Mrs Gordon opened her small wrinkled mouth to say something. Emily gritted her teeth.

  No. No talking, no questions. Just get lost, you nosey old hag. Just go.

  Mrs. Gordon quickly shut her mouth, turned away from Emily’s hard stare and walked up the street. It occurred to Emily that Mrs. Gordon had decided to ignore her because she preferred not to get involved in any possible altercation. No gossip was worth a confrontation at night from a juvenile delinquent accompanied by a vicious drunk for a father.

  Emily watched the woman leave the street.

  Yeah, keep walking… Just let me be. And I’ll let you be.

  Mrs. Gordon turned a corner and was gone. Another obstacle was out of her way. Luck was still egging her on to success. Onto the next milestone.

  Emily made her way out of Elsdale Street and turned the corner. As she walked, she slung her rucksack off and opened a side pocket. From within the pocket, she pulled out her iPod and her earphones. She dusted some muck off the cracked screen of her device, plugged in her earphones and scrolled through her songs.

  She didn't have a laptop to curate her playlists, that’s what her friends were there for. A few ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous' in the right moments of a conversation and Emily soon had acceptable access to music.

  All she wanted to do now was to fall into the lull of tunes that soothed her somewhat scratched-up soul. She didn't see herself as a poet or a romantic, but she felt that she had the right temperament for it.

  She decided to shuffle her songs on her playlist. She pressed play and the hissing taps of the hi-hat massaged into her brain. The thumping bass, the thudding drumming and the spittle-covered lyrics of Smash Mouth’s Walkin’ On The Sun pushed her body on as she stalked up the street until she reached another corner and turned around it with sure purpose. The sounds of London died away as she was surrounded by her music.

  The music was a welcome presence to calm herself down. She had to control herself. She had to stop herself from sprinting with excitement.

  She was out. She was finally free. And she fought with all her willpower to not run. She had to look calm as she forged on her path to a freedom that she craved. If she remained calm, she wouldn’t draw attention. If she remained calm, she could form her plans.

  But bloody hell! She was struggling to remain in that state.

  No longer would she have to sleep with one eye open for the lumbering form of a figure to ascend the stairs. No longer would she have to duck and hide when she heard him swearing to himself.

  She knew that she would never go back there. She’d rather die than go back.

  It was the uncertainty of her life in that house that terrified her. Not the beatings. No, those were expected and handled to the best of her ability.

  After enough of those, Emily grew numb to them.

  For Emily, the fear came from the constant worry that someday, those beatings would be taken too far. Taken to a point which her father would decide that it was the point of no return and that he would go the rest of the way. That he would finally kill her.

  She rubbed her neck at the thought.

  The bruises were still raw. Two darkened impressions stretched across her throat. Last night, he had his hands on her neck and had pushed her against the wall.

  He held her there before he quickly came back to his drunken senses and dropped her to the floor.

  He ran out of the house without another word and didn't come back for hours. Emily just lay there on the floor, coughing and wheezing.

  Throughout these periods of rage-filled anger, Emily never argued with him. Never fought with him. If she did, it would only get worse for her.

  She did not reach out to anyone to talk to. She was that scared of him. Scared of horrors he would visit on her if she ever opened her mouth to him.

  Even if she had the courage to talk, who could she reach out to? She didn’t know anyone that she trusted enough to talk to. Not her friends, she wanted to spare them that. It wasn't their problem to deal with and if she was being honest, they had problems of their own.

  Emily never spoke with her neighbours. She preferred not to. It was the looks she was given by them that she hated. The same look that Mrs. Gordon had given her.

  A mixture of pity and disgust. All aimed at her dirty clothes, her malnourished body, the colour of her skin and her bruises.

  It made people avoid her. It made them apathetic to her plight.

  That was the disease that she encountered daily on her walks in London. And she herself was infected with it. She had to admit that. She never asked her friends about their own problems. She never looked people in the eye when ordering food in the local chicken shop or buying budget groceries. She would just ask for what she needed, take it, pay for it and get out. Enough. Done.

  And she made it a point to avoid the homeless whenever she could. She just couldn't stand the guilt-tripping expressions they would give her if she ever looked at them. She’d go as far as crossing a street to avoid them.

  She wondered why she had that aversion in her. Considering her own problems, she’d thought that would make her more open to people and their issues. Maybe even help them to sort them out. But that wouldn't be the case.

  She hated the effort that had to be made to fix people. Especially when sometimes those situations would be out of anyone's control.

  Perhaps… perhaps it was also that she couldn't understand people anymore.

  Or she just couldn't be bothered enough to care.

  She was on Cassland Road at this point and as she walked up, I Think We’re Alone Now thundered into her soul with a thumping bass drum and buckling guitar strings. Despite the frenetic energy leaping from the music, they brought Emily a sense of calm that she rarely found anywhere else. Music was her mantra.

  Emily watched people passing her, on the way to have a night filled with booze and fun. Some of these people were in the Halloween spirit, dressed to the nines in ghoulish regalia and smeared make-up. All of them were laughing and drinking the night away in a wild abandon of life. There were some who did not share the Halloween tradition and just walked the street in their own musings or in conversation with their friends or partners. But they were all happy. Content with their lives in one way or another…

  Emily felt the sting of jealousy in her heart whenever she saw joyous people.

  What is it like? She would wonder where she saw people like that. To have no pain, no sadness… Everything to go so well and dandy for all of you.

  So fucking happy. So fucking pleased with yourselves.

  Can’t you people even imagine pain? How about grief? What about that? Huh?

  Emily shook her head.

  She did not like seeing people being happy. When she did, she could feel the burn in her stomach. That burn would crawl up her throat and make her mouth dry. That burning sensation was envy. Emily knew that and she hated feeling that.

  Life was too complicated for her to understand. Emily couldn't see eye to eye with her friends anymore. She had lost faith with the life that she was born in. She briskly walked on before she had a chance to get more envious than she was already feeling.

  It didn't take long for her to reach Homerton Station. Emily stopped short of nearing the heavily graffitied overground station. She looked around the area. Much like her home street, the station was nearly abandoned. She paused her music and approached the entrance.

  As she neared it, Emily found that the only other person in the station was a fatigued ticket officer, who sat in his little office with his feet up on his desk. He was portly, with numerous white-capped pus spots freckling his face. Cropped blonde hair sat on his scalp in such a way that Emily thought it looked like a dead guinea pig.

  Emily sighed with irritation. She recognised the ticket officer. His name was Kyle Fry and she hated talking with him.

  He was one of those types of people who judged you after taking one look at you. Much like Mrs Gordon, Kyle had come to the assumption that Emily wasn’t worth his spit. And the feeling was certainly mutual.

  Kyle did not notice Emily approaching him as he was too engrossed in a novel that he flicked through. His face was deep within its pages. He was humming to himself as he turned the pages with beady eyes. Emily tisked with reserved judgement and then tapped the window with her knuckles.

  He threw his feet on the floor, dropped the book like soiled clothing and stood up straight to face her. “Yeah, can I help-” he began before seeing her.

  Upon seeing her, his face slackened and he narrowed his eyes. He looked down at her with his stubbed nose. “Oh. You. What do you want, Davidson?” he asked with a hint of spittle in his pudgy throat.

  Emily pulled out two crumpled ￡20 notes from her pocket and slid them under the protective glass.

  “Kent, please. One way.” she said flatly.

  He nodded slowly and skeptically. “Right, what station in Kent? Kind of need that information, love.”

  Emily sighed through her teeth. I’m not your bloody ‘love’… God, she hated talking with this prick. “Don’t care what station. Just somewhere in Kent.”

  They both glared at one another for a few seconds. Emily hated him for one more reason. That reason was the cause of Kyle’s dislike to her.

  While Emily knew of Kyle, Kyle Fry certainly knew of Emily Davidson. And he regarded the skinny teenager with a hard sneer. Kyle knew that she was a problem child in the community, all right. She was known to be a right handful for the off-license shops in the borough and her name was noted by the borough’s police branch.

  Of bloody course she’d be trouble, he once thought when he had heard of her nightly issues. A dead black mother and an angry white trash father. A typical London yob pairing, if I ever saw one.

  A long time ago, Kyle had made it his prerogative in life to stay well clear of those sorts of people… Definitely not the type to associate with.

  Considering who her parents are and were, Kyle had expected the Davidson girl to end up dead in a stabbing or something to do with drugs. Things like that happened a lot to the yobbos around the borough. And that would be the end of that. She’d be gone and Kyle wouldn’t have to suffer seeing her anymore. He could go on with his own happy life. But much to his frustration and unlike the type of people he happily pigeonholed the girl in, Davidson wasn't stupid.

  She was never incarcerated nor booked for any actual misdemeanours. She knew not to leave tracks. She was quick on her feet or rather that was what people around the borough knew.

  And everyone certainly knew of her father and of his drunk temper. They, and Kyle included, knew to stay very fucking clear of him whether he was drunk or sober.

  For that fact alone, Kyle decided that he wanted no trouble for himself. His shift was nearly over and there was no way he was going to have an altercation with the Davidson girl in the dead of night, on Halloween no less.

  Life was too short and he was not going to mess around with anyone. Not tonight. No-siree.

  So he took her money and printed out a one-way ticket.

  Kyle slid it towards her and whipped his hand back from her, as if she was going bite it off.

  “All right… One way to, uh… Margate then. Three changes. Change your trains at Stratford. Last train’s at 11:30. That good enough for you?”

  Emily’s eyes were hard and didn’t blink as she stared at Kyle. “It is.”

  “You’re travelling alone. Where’s your dad?”

  Emily sucked in the air through her teeth and sighed again. “He’s not coming. Just give me my ticket.” And hurry the hell up, you dozy, racist tosser.

  Kyle looked past Emily, trying to see if there was anyone else to see this suspicious exchange. He was getting cagey being alone with the girl. He was half-expecting to see a hulking six-foot man practically steaming with medicinal fumes to come stalking up the street to smash his head in.

  Emily didn't like how this man, this absolute moron, was wasting her time. She leaned onto the counter and then smiled, changing her tact.

  “Look, I got his permission, OK? I’ve got family in Kent. It’s all settled with him.”

  “Listen, am I getting into something I’d rather not be in?” Kyle was still looking past Emily for any signs of that lumbering father figure with balled fists and a seething expression that could actually scare away guard dogs.

  Emily’s smile started to strain. “No. But the longer I stay here waiting for my ticket, the more awkward it’s going to be for the both of us. My money, please”

  “OK, OK. Here. Go on. Get out of here.” Kyle quickly slid her cash back to Emily.

  She took the cash with another fake smile. “Thank you.”

  Emily walked on from Kyle with a jaunty stride and a smile that grew wider with each step. She was good at getting her way. It was one of her favourite traits.

  This little victory was what she wanted to affirm her drastic decision. She had come this far and she was determined to not let anything stop her. Emily purposefully pushed through the turnstiles, ascended the stairs and turned the corner to enter the open platform.

  Fry watched the Davidson girl leave his sight. As soon as she did, he fell back down on his seat, picked up his book and resumed reading. “Waste of space…” he hissed as his mind gratefully wandered away from the arrogant little bitch.

  Emily looked up and down the Homerton platform. Thankfully, it was empty. She saw another set of stairs that led to the underground tunnel which connected the two platforms of the station. The train which she was supposed to catch was on the opposing platform. Emily quickly entered the tunnel and appeared onto the platform.

  She found a metal bench, with its navy blue paint peeling away and revealing the rusting metal underneath, and sat down. She yawned. The cold had that tiring effect on her. But despite that, something else was weighing her down.

  The smile on her face gradually fell as she looked down at her skin.

  That prick. Her mind wandered back to Kyle Fry, that fat stodgy man. That bloody prick.

  Her skin was certainly not as dark as her mother’s skin. But it was brown enough to heavily attest to that genetic material. She traced her finger over her skin and sighed through teeth that had grown used to being clenched in pain, fear and anger.

  Everyone’s the bloody same. The police. Mrs Gordon. Fry. Everyone. What the fuck is wrong with them? It’s my skin. It’s who I am. Right? So what if I’m not white like them? So what?

  It was same at school. The teachers who would write her off as a lost cause.

  It was the same on the street. The police would watch her more carefully than most.

  It was same in the shops. The owners would keep one eye on her as she’d go inside to get something stupidly simple as a pack of chewing gum…

  It was the same treatment. Every day. Every night. It never, ever changed.

  Emily rubbed her face and let out an exasperated groan.

  “Fuuuuuuck them…” Her voice carried over the silent platform.

  There was no one to moan at, apart from herself.

  Screw it, she thought, screw it and screw them. I’m the one who’s getting out of this prison.

  Making a half-smile with that belief that she had attained some sort of introverted victory against the bigots of the world, Emily checked the digital clock on the screen that hung over her head. It had the listings of all the trains that were arriving at the station.

  And as the bigot Kyle had said, there was only one train left. The time was now 10:45. Emily had forty-five minutes to stay alert for danger. Emily looked to the tunnel and thoughts ran through her head.

  I wonder… What if he woke up as I left and followed me? What if he knows where I am and he’s coming for me right this second?

  She was certain that she had left him asleep and unaware of her plans. She clenched her fists.

  But what if he decided to come all the same and somehow, with sheer dumb luck, so happens to choose Homerton to start or end his search?

  With that worrying thought needling at her brain, Emily started to will the train to come earlier and she hoped that the schedule was wrong.

  She rubbed her knees and sighed through chilled teeth. She needed music. It would help pass the time and it would at least calm her nerves down.

  She leant back on the bench and closed her eyes to rest. Not to sleep, that was too risky, but to just rest. But as soon as she closed her eyes, sleep ambushed her.

  It only felt like a second in her mind when she suddenly was jolted awake by thumping bass tones. She paused her music and blearily looked to the clock. It now read 11:10.

  She had slept for a dangerous twenty-five minutes. She was lucky that she had not slept through her train’s arrival and departure. As she regained her awareness, she turned to discover a man was seated next to her on the bench.

  She flinched in surprise at the appearance of the stranger. He turned and regarded her with a friendly enough smile. And Emily stared at this strange man.

  The stranger was dressed in an opened pinstriped black suit, with brown Churches shoes and a white silk shirt. The man was very lean, almost too lean, with sculpted muscles in his chest, arms and legs. If a person judged him solely based on his physique, then that person would assume that he was handsome and healthy. But that would be before that person saw this stranger’s eyes.

  The irises in his chalky eyes were the colour of tar. There was no light within them. They were black holes. They were nothingness.

  Then white skin on his face looked clean enough and he was clean-shaven. But as Emily studied the strange man’s skin, it actually looked…

  Emily didn’t know how to describe it… His skin looked like paper, once soaked in oil and water and then pulled over a burning flame- no, wait… Crinkled. That was the word she came up with.

  His groomed-back hair was so blonde, it almost looked white like his skin and it reflected the lights over their heads. His nose was as straight as a bottle cap and looked just as sharp.

  “I apologise if I startled you,” he suddenly spoke all the while looking into Emily’s eyes. His accent had a nasally Irish tone and it was the only thing about him that held a semblance of normality. “I fear that I have that effect on people.”

  Emily looked around at the platform. There was no one else here. And where was her train?

  The stranger continued to speak. “I know what you are thinking. You’re alone with a man who just so happened to sit right next to you. Don’t worry, I am not one of those people…”

  Emily stared at the stranger as her mind impulsively threw her back to all the horror movies she had watched with her friends as she grew up. All the 80s slashers films that had haunted her nights for days to come.

  And here she was, in the same situation as many hapless characters within the first ten minutes of any film. They were alone, happy and oblivious to the encroaching danger of a serial killer looking to steal their face, heart or something.

  Is he a serial killer? I don’t know. He looks… normal, I guess. Sounds normal too… But there’s something about him…

  Emily couldn’t place what she was feeling. There was an instinct that told her that this person was certainly ‘not from around here’…

  Emily resumed control of her breath. She was not allowing this man to see her being rattled by him.

  She’s suffered at worse hands and she was always ready to stand up for herself in a fight. Should it come to that… So she fought hard to remain calm and collected, all the while attempting to banish away the mental images of her bloody corpse in some ditch next to the station.

  “You’re Irish.” Emily said.

  “Yes.” The stranger chuckled gently.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Emily leant further away from him, who did not react to her body language at all.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” The stranger frowned and looked around in a gestured way. “Doing what anyone does at a station, I imagine. Waiting for my train to arrive. What are you doing?”

  Emily crossed her arms and sulked into the bench. “Oh- Never mind.”

  Try as she could, Emily couldn't pin him down.

  Who is he? What is he doing here?

  She checked her watch, it said 11:15. Okay train, you’re taking the piss. Come on.

  The seconds seemed to be crawling by now, willing to torment her with this man’s uncalled for company for a little longer. She glanced at his face to study him a bit more.

  As much as she was creeped out by this person, he still seemed to have an intriguing element about him. It made Emily curious and she wanted to learn more about him.

  Even if he is something I do not want to mess around with… he’s a hell of a lot better than Kyle Fry. He’s something new.

  By then, he was looking at the night sky.

  His eyes, as black as they were, did not reflect the lights of the platform. In fact, any light that reached those two irises were utterly swallowed by those pits.

  He rubbed his knees to dispel the cold and took in a slow breath through his narrow nostrils and exhaled with another slow and patient smile. He watched his breath transform into transparent vapours that floated away and then faded into nothingness.

  “Ah…” he exclaimed softly. “I love the outdoors… Work tends to keep me close to home. I like that.”

  “Right. Where do you live?” Emily asked with a searching tone.

  The stranger turned his still gaze to Emily. He smiled at her with patronisingly raised eyebrow. And after uttering a lengthy sigh, he replied with slow nonchalance. “Here and there. Home is where I rest…What about yourself?”

  Emily said nothing at that. She only squinted her eyes.

  The stranger looked at her with his pair of lightless eyes and held his stare to make it exceptionally clear to the girl that that act of staying silent in a conversation was considered very rude.

  Emily did not get the hint, so he resumed his chatter to banish the induced silence.

  “Happy Hallow’s Eve, by the way.” he wished her.

  “What?”

  “Happy Halloween. I assume you know it’s Halloween tonight.”

  “Yeah, of course I know that.” she snapped suddenly, which she regretted.

  She needed to control herself. Jesus, weird things were happening to her way too quickly.

  Emily made a mental note at that point to hold her tongue.

  The stranger raised his sculpted eyebrows at the rebuke, so Emily decided to repair the sudden schism between them to ensure no reason for raised tempers on either side. “Why are you so dressed up? You’re looking sharp.”

  “Oh this?” He patted his suit nonchalantly. “Thank you kindly. I like to be dressed up nice and neat when I go out. You’ve got to look good to do your job, you know?”

  “Did it work out?”

  The stranger lent into the bench and cracked his knuckles with a modest grin. “I believe so. Yes, I think it did.” He then hummed a soft little tune, then leant down to lift up his briefcase and placed it on his knees.

  Emily shrugged and watched him open his briefcase. He then took out a small black book with a smaller bookmark sticking out from the middle. Emily noticed writing on its front cover. It was in silver: Property of Donn.

  So, his name’s Donn. Fair enough.

  Donn placed the book on the empty seat next to him and laid his briefcase back by his feet. Then he reached into his suit’s top pocket for a pair of reading glasses which he placed gently on the bony bridge of his nose. He sighed and took a hold of the book, opening it in the process and began to read. He did all of this with a patient flow-like motion, like a forest stream in summertime.

  Emily found herself becoming fascinated by this ritual-like behaviour. He seemed very methodical in his ways.

  And soon, she realised that once Donn was completed in his motion, he was now watching her watching him. “Uh, yeah?” she asked.

  “A bit of light reading. Hope you don't mind.”

  Emily peeked at the opened book. Inside was a drawn picture of an elderly woman, with her name, birth date, age and place of birth. Donn then lifted the book to his face to read it carefully, so Emily was unable to gleam any more information from it. He became as silent as she.

  Emily sighed, struggling to hold herself back from asking more questions.

  Who the hell is this guy? There’s got to be more about him than he’s letting me know. And why do I care about this, like at all? I just… I can’t help it.

  “What- uh, what do you do for a living?” she asked.

  Donn did not break his attention from his book as he replied politely as always. “Oh, well… I am a- hmm… You could say that I am a collector.”

  “Of what?”

  Donn gave a sudden side-eye glance to Emily without so much as twitching his head to her. “Why am I answering all these questions if you won’t answer any of mine?”

  Emily opened her mouth, but when she couldn’t come up with a pithy comeback, she sulked into the bench.

  Donn grinned. “Uh-huh. You’re certainly more of a listener than a talker. That’s a good trait… Rude but a good trait.”

  “I’m going on a trip.” she said finally after a few minutes of silence.

  Ah, she speaks. “Uh-huh. Where to?”

  “Kent.”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah.” she lied.

  He made a second glance to her and then put down the book “If you don't mind me saying this…You seem…young to be travelling all by yourself.”

  Emily bristled at that remark. Again with the age thing! She hated being underestimated for it. There were days that she wished she was twenty instead of just fifteen.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh, I am sure you can.”

  Emily shot him a what the hell that does mean? look.

  Donn returned his own searching look by glancing just above her head. He squinted and blinked in great surprise. What he was looking for was not there. The numbers were not there. They just were not there. At all. Not even a single digit.

  How very curious… he mused. They still did not appeared. Not when I sat and still not now.

  “What?’ Emily snapped. “What are you staring at?”

  Donn replied by gesturing to her cut lip. He still did not break his attention from his book as he flicked his eyes back and forth between the two areas of focus. It seemed that the injury certainly didn’t escape his notice then. “Looks recent.”

  “So?”

  “Should get that checked out, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m serious, that type of injury can get infected.” “I’m fine.”

  “So you say.”

  Emily roughly grabbed her rucksack in an effort to do something rather than talk to Donn.

  He was asking too many questions. Too many probing questions.

  Emily was determined to wall herself off at that point.

  She opened her bag to search through the multitude of food snacks, soft drink cans and several thick rubber-banded packs of money. It didn't look organised, but how organised could she be when she was running for her life?

  Donn saw all of this as Emily grabbed and ripped open a Kit-Kat bar. She bit into it and chewed loudly. While Donn knew that it really was none of his business, he just couldn't sit there and allow a pained expression like hers to continue unasked. He needed to know more. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But that was his flaw. He had been told as much. He cared too much.

  Donn sighed, closed his book and placed it back into his briefcase. He turned his head to give Emily his full attention.

  “Who hit you?” he asked with judged caution. Gone was the soft tone in his voice. He was serious. Emily said nothing. She continued to eat.

  Donn did not give in. “Was it your boyfriend? Mother? Father?”

  Despite her guarded instincts that were sharpened by years of abuse and fear, Emily involuntarily paused at the word ‘Father’.

  Seeing that pause, Donn nodded slowly. “Ah. Right. Is there anyone that can help?”

  Emily smiled grimly and replied, knowing that she had given the game away. “Did try that once. He said that the next time I do that, he’d throw me down the stairs… I want to get away from him.”

  “So that’s why you’re running away.”

  Emily glared at Donn. “You think I’m running? Huh?” She started to shake with a mixture of fixed anger at the world and crumbling fear at her situation. “I’m- I’m not running away from anything!”

  Donn looked at the rucksack and back to Emily.

  “Your bag is stuffed to the brim with food, drink and money that won’t last you three days, so… Yes, I’d say that you are.”

  Emily had had enough.

  It was time to lay it all out, maybe scare Donn off with what she going to say next.

  “My mum’s dead. Alright? There.” She said this bluntly. She gave Donn a defiant look. Yeah, how about that for an info bomb, mate?

  Donn leant back slowly. “Oh.”

  Now he remembered it all so clearly now.

  Emily Davidson’s face had looked very familiar to him when he sat down by her. He was curious to see what she was up to and why she was in a dark station on her own. He then remembered her father, mean bastard that he was.

  There was something familiar in Emily's mannerisms and the way she spoke… Now he knew why. He couldn’t fault himself for nearly forgetting her. After all, there have been so many faces he had seen in his life.

  Hundreds of thousands of voices, eyes and smiles… But some of the special ones did stand out. Like Emily’s mother. Amy Davidson. Yes, she was a special one.

  Emily sighed angrily and looked away.

  Donn remained quiet. He knew the death. He knew the woman who died that afternoon. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it shut. Then he said softly, “I’m sorry.” before he even realised that he was saying it.

  “What? What’re you talking about? You weren’t there.”

  Donn paused. Oh…yes, I was.

  His face fell for a moment, only for a moment, to reveal a trace of pain within his mind. But he recovered quickly before Emily saw anything. He knew that this child was smart enough.

  The small flicker of pained guilt swelled. Donn sighed heavily through his nostrils and rubbed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew that. But he was there. He was the enabler. He performed his duty. And that duty took away her mother.

  “I am very sorry.” he said again, with a voice slightly cracking under the strain in his chest. “I cannot imagine the pain you went through.” Donn had no idea why he was saying such things. He only hoped it would help heal the wound he had inflicted on Emily’s life.

  Emily stared at Donn. Something in Emily broke. Was there a crack in the wall that she had learnt to build around herself to avoid situations like this? Emily wished she hadn’t had said that to Donn. It was not of his business. It was stupid to do that. But she did it all the same.

  Then Donn went and said sorry… Emily couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that for her. No one, not her dad nor even her friends or anyone in the street who gave two shits about her. But Donn did. This stranger, this weirdo actually gave a damn.

  Emily had no idea how to react to something like that. To kindness… To empathy. But her body knew. She felt her chest tighten and her stomach coil. Her throat became coarse and she knew what would going to follow. Tears. Stupid tears.

  After all that had happened, it was a wonder that she held so strong for this long…

  Emily shuddered under breath and fell forward. Resting her elbows on her knees, she buried her head in her hands and breathed heavily into them. She refused to cry. She was not going to god-damn cry in front of him.

  She wanted to sink into the metal. She wanted the metal to envelop her, to protect her from the harmful world.

  In her current position, Emily saw no reaction from Donn, if only a slight widening of his eyes. What Emily did not see was the anger that swelled quickly within Donn’s soul. A subtle expression like the widening of the eyes spoke volumes of emotion when it came to people like Donn.

  Donn despised injustice of this sort. In his line of work, a fair balance was key. When there was too much evil… well, he just couldn't stand it.

  Concerning Emilys mother, he had done a duty. But he wasn’t proud of it. Not in a snowflake’s chance in Hell. Donn looked up at the night sky and watched the stars.

  Why, Fate? He asked of the unknowable and illusive Elemental. Why punish this child? She has done no wrong to the world… It isn’t fair.

  When he saw such pain hurting a young child, something in him would boil.

  And then you curse her with a life that is tormented by her own father…

  At that point, Donn thought to himself on how mankind was able to balance having the ability to care for animals and babies so implicitly, while at the same time have the capability to harm those very same defenceless creatures. In all the years he had experienced, Donn could not understand the dichotomy of the soul. What sort of father would bring a child into the world with care enough to do so, only to punish the child for even existing? What sort of man hurts those that he should care as is his solemn duty as parent and protector? What sort of human is able to do such acts?

  Why are there parents who do such things? Donn knew of millions of children out there in the city and in the country and in the continent who suffered the way that Emily did. The carelessness and cruelty of ill-prepared parents hurting children was something that he could not comprehend.

  And Donn despised it with a human’s level of passion.

  He thought himself to be a good person. It was simple enough to say thank you to a stranger for opening a door to him or for another to bring him food whenever he dined. It was simple enough just to be kind. For him, he found it far easier and enjoyable to be kind than to be cruel.

  There was a quote that had amused Donn in the previous century. Through this reflection he had recalled it. It was something the author C.S. Lewis had said:

  ‘There is no neutral ground in the universe: every square inch, every split second is claimed by God and counterclaimed by Lucifer.’

  That caused a wry smile on Donn’s face. Good and Evil existed in the hearts of humanity and warred constantly with that delicate balance. Donn knew this. And he had hoped, a long time when he was mired by naivety, that goodness would spread throughout the continents.

  The meek shall inherit the earth.

  But now, after what he had seen and heard during this century alone… Donn was growing more assuredly that Evil was gaining ground.

  If someone like him, with all the death that followed him, could do such acts without expectation of reward, how hard could it be for any human?

  Donn thought of the girl beside him, now soaking the pavement with tears.

  He felt the guilt within him, for he knew that he was the architect of her suffering… He knew that all her recent pains stemmed from his one action.

  He wished that it hadn't been him.

  He wished it was one of his colleagues in his stead who could bear that responsibility.

  But such was his duty.

  This country was part of his domain. It could only be down to him to do what had been done. That being said, he did not do it with a smile. But with a resigned grimace. He then hoped despite the evils she had suffered, that she would be kind in her life. Now that she knew its true value after being denied it for so long… But seeing her behaviour, the sheer wall that she built, Donn was saddened to see how jaded she had become.

  And, for a brief and foolish moment of comforting a distressed soul, Donn let his guard down.

  “It’s fine, Emily. It’s fine.” No sooner had her name passed his lips, that Donn knew it to be a poor choice of words.

  Emily snapped open her eyes. She leapt to her feet and backed away from Donn.

  “What the-?! How do you know my name? I didn't tell you that!”

  Donn closed his eyes. “Ah. Yes… Could you ignore that last part?” He smiled, as if the revelation did not happen.

  Emily took another step back from him. Her heart thudded against her ribs, blood pumped past her ears. She was feeling cold and her legs shook against the sheer instinct to flee. But she remained exactly where she stood as she questioned the strange man who knew her name.

  All of her suspicions about this man were coming to light.

  She thought he was a murderer or some psychopath or a stalker. Now, it seemed he was all of them plied into one.

  “How did you know that? Huh?! Don’t lie to me!”

  “…What do you want me to say, Emily?” Donn rubbed his knees.

  A hundred questions thundered through her mind, but her mouth could only conjure one. “Who are you? Are you some sort of-?”

  Emily dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Donn watched her.

  “What are you doing now?” he asked.

  Emily could hear a touch of iron in his silky voice. He sounded worried. Good. “Calling the police! You’re freaking me out!”

  “I am not doing that.” he said.

  “Oh yeah?! You know my name, you sit next to me, you talk to me! You’re a stalker or something!”

  Donn took a set forward. “Please, don’t call that number.” His hand was raised to her. His eyes focused on her. “Don’t make this a hassle.”

  “Then tell me the truth! How did you know my name?”

  Donn sighed. “Emily. Please.”

  Emily dialled the emergency number and called it.

  “Oh for the love of…” Donn patted his trouser pocket.

  In Emily’s eyes, the world shifted from light to darkness then back to light in only a tenth of a second.

  It was within the blink of an eye but Emily’s phone was now in Donn’s hand. Emily still had her hand to her ear. It took only a second for Emily to realise this. She limply dropped her hand to her side and stared at Donn, who cancelled the call.

  Emily started to feel dizzy as she gawked at the man who had somehow snatched her phone from her fingers without taking so much as a single step.

  “What the fuck is going on here…” she demanded, summoning what little power she had in her voice which was under the grips of a growing fear of the man.

  Donn pocketed Emily’s phone, crossed his arms and looked down at his shoes. He nodded slightly. Then he seemed to have made up his mind in the form of a growing smile and an embarrassed chuckle. He looked back up to Emily and nodded.

  “Ah feck it. If you must know… Emily, I am a god.”

  Emily’s gawking increased in the form of widened eyes and a widening mouth. There was a chill up the back of her neck. Then she laughed. “Bullshit! No way. No fucking way…”

  Her laughter died slowly, when she saw that the man before her was not laughing. He had a most serious look on his face.

  “Oh my god. You’re not joking.”

  Donn shook his head.

  “I am not. I am a god. A god of death to be precise. My name is Donn, as you very well know. But I do go by other monikers: The Lord of the Dead or The Dark One. My superior, is THE Death. The original who gave me and my colleagues our jobs and our very existences.”

  Emily was, quite understandably, dumbfounded.

  “Now,” Donn continued, “I know this may be a little bit overwhelming. But please do not be alarmed by this sudden influx of information or my prior knowledge of your name. I know your name, Emily Davidson, because I have always known it. And I will know all the names of all the peoples who reside here in this continent. I learn of your names when you were born. That is the case for all those who are born here and all those who are to die here. Now I stand here, awaiting my train which will take me back home. Back to my world. Now… is that good enough for you?”

  Emily’s legs suddenly lost all their strength and she collapsed on the floor. She stared at Donn with fearful eyes, brimming with tears. “Are you- are you going to kill me?” she stammered.

  Donn blinked. “What?”

  “You fucking work for Death! Jesus! You sat next to me. Talked to me! Are you going to kill me? Do I die here?! Is that it? Am I already dead?”

  Donn gave Emily a curiously pitying look, which was followed with another of his laughs. “No! Now why on this planet would I do that? I’m not a murderer. Stand up Emily!”

  Donn sat down on the bench and gestured to Emily to the same. Gingerly, Emily approached the bench but sat on the part furthest away from him. Donn took no insult from it. He only shrugged with nonchalance and then slid Emily’s phone along the bench for Emily to catch.

  “I just came back from my work and I was told to make my way back via this station. Frankly, I still have no clue as to why, but orders are orders.”

  Emily wasn’t listening. She was checking her watch. It was well past 11:45.

  Her train was late. But that didn’t seem to matter now.

  She struggled to control her beating heart and when she was able, she asked, “So why are you here tonight? In my world?”

  “Tonight is Halloween. All the souls that are to be reaped throughout the world will be all riled up and agitated. It happens every year. Me and the others must be on the alert to catch and send by any souls that manage to find a way out of Limbo. And believe me, that happens… And deaths, as you can imagine, occur quite a lot on this night. We’re all working overtime on this. Honestly, it is utter bedlam. And if you are about to ask how I can keep up with the reapings, don’t. It’s complicated.”

  Donn checked his pocket watch. “And as it happens, seems my train is arriving quite soon. Where are you going, Emily?”

  Emily rubbed her face. “I-… I said Kent. Doesn't look like my train’s getting here though.”

  “That does seem to be the case, yes. Typical delays in this city… But this destination you spoke of. With little conviction I might add… Where do you want to go, really? You don’t know, do you?”

  “So what?! I am never going back! I- I want to feel safe for once! I just want to have a home!”

  Donn leant forward on his knees. He gave Emily another look. Emily looked into that black eyes and somehow, she could discern a softness in those pupils that she did not notice before.

  Emily snorted a laugh that was gargled by residual tears in her throat. “My dad’s a nutter. I don’t ever want to see him again.”

  Donn sucked in air through his teeth and sighed. “Ok then… In that case, how about-”

  But whatever solution Donn was about to mention had to wait.

  The quietness between the two of them was broken by a man’s scream.

  Both Emily and Donn recognised the man’s voice. It was Kyle Fry. The scream was bloodcurdling not only in its pitch and volume but with its duration. It was quick and was instantly silenced…

  Emily leapt to her feet, shocked with eyes scanning the surroundings.

  Donn stayed perfectly still, calm as he had always been. His eyes fell upon the station’s entrance, from which the sound came. He had expected the death coming, but he was surprised to not know how.

  There was no other sound for maybe three seconds. Then heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance.

  Emily gripped her bag tightly. Her shoe scrapped the floor. She knew those footsteps better than anyone.

  Donn checked on her. She looked as if she was ready to run, but she was rooted to the spot in fear.

  “Don’t run, Emily. Stay calm.” he said.

  Emily swallowed some saliva, but said nothing. Her voice seemed to die in her throat. She was utterly terrified.

  The footsteps grew louder and louder until finally they saw a burly bulk of a man with tree trunk-like arms appearing from the entrance. He wore a leather bikers jacket with a hoodie underneath. His torn baggy jeans were too long and his beard was thick and dirty with pieces of food and crusted alcohol. His buzz cut brown hair was flecked with grey strands. He was forty-five and the wrinkles on his caucasian skin showed it. His bloodshot eyes scanned the platform and when his eyes rested upon Emily, they narrowed and his hand which held a bloody kitchen knife trembled. This was Emily’s father, Fredrick Davidson.

  A man mired in suffering, which the words ‘affection’ and ‘selflessness’ had no place in his current vocabulary. He was at this point an unforgiving, impatient and - evidently - murderous man.

  It is important to know - like Donn did at that moment - that Fredrick was not always like this, but that was a long time ago. Back when he was once a happy man. A kind man. A good man.

  Fred didn't acknowledge Donn, who still sat quietly and observed the situation unfolding before him with his unnatural coolness. Fred’s eyes stabbed into his daughter.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Em?” Fred growled.

  Emily’s voice was that of a mouse. She was that scared. She was no longer free and back in the house. “Dad… listen. You’re drunk. Don’t-”

  “Shut the fuck up!” he spat. His eyes widened as he yelled. “You want to run away? IS THAT IT? Am I not good enough for you? That’s fine. You want to find a better life? That’s fine. You can fuck off for all I care! You can drown yourself in a lake. But not with my money! Not. My. FUCKING. MONEY!”

  Then Emily, feeling a semblance of courage from Donn’s presence and from some tiny seed that grew from her soul, stood her ground and fired back. “I need this money, Dad! A hell of a lot more than you do!”

  “You steal from me? ME?! Where do you get off acting like this, you little shit?!” Fred raised his gun with his shaking hand and actually pointed it at her.

  There were tears in his eyes. But they were of anger, not love.

  “I raised you. Feed you. Give you clothes. Send you to school, a fuckin’ fortune! Bills! Phone! Films! Make up! Bills! Bills! Bills! And this is how you repay me!? You steal from me!?”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Why are you running, huh? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU RUNNING?!”

  That was the last straw for Emily. Too long has she been trodden on and kicked down. By her world, by her society, by her teachers, by the police, by her social standing, by her life and by her father. She was sick of not being helped. Of being hurt.

  She was sick of the injustice. So if this was it, if this was the end then, by fucking God, Emily decided to go out the way that she wanted.

  She screamed out all of her resentment at the one person responsible for it. “I want to get away from you, Dad! I don’t want you in my life anymore! You’re an evil fucking prick!”

  Emily snapped her mouth shut, having now realised that she said too much. But her fist were clenched and she did not run.

  Not this time. This time, she was determined to show him that he did not scare her anymore. No matter what happened next, she was not going to fear him. Never again.

  Fred stared at his daughter with the widest eyes possible. His jaw went slightly slack in response to her outburst and insult. He blinked many times, like a cow which had lost all sense of direction or logic.

  Donn watched the pair, snapping his eyes back and forth between them. Then Donn looked to Fred as Fred’s face turned from a confused stupor to a wretched scowl. His voice, mired as it was with liquor, fatigue and a brimming madness, shook uncontrollably.

  “You… you fuckin’… I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

  Donn finally intervened by standing and speaking. “Yes, this has gone long enough.”

  Donn took one step forward.

  And it was within that step which Emily caught a glimpse of a golden coin hanging between the fingers of his right hand. With a single coin’s tap against his leg and as his foot fell on the concrete floor, Donn vanished from her side and suddenly reappeared beside Fred’s.

  The act was quicker than a millisecond.

  Fred cried in shock and lashed out wildly with the knife to cut down the phantasm. He hit his mark. The steel blade drew a red gash straight across Donn’s face - from the middle of his left cheek, across his nose and up through his right eye - causing blood to whip through the air.

  Emily screamed. Donn lurched his face away. But he did not cry out. No. No, he simply turned his face back towards Fred and Fred’s face went white with terror and Emily felt her blood run cold.

  This terror wasn’t the terror she felt at home. This terror was something deeper. Something baser. Something that gnawed on the strings and wiring that connected her survival instincts together. It made her motionless and silent.

  Donn’s calm demeanour had faded away, giving way to a dark and vicious grimace. His undamaged eye had darkened and his already gaunt face was now stretched ever further, causing his visage to slightly revealing the skull underneath the skin.

  The cut was made all the more gruesome by the contorted facial expression. The torn skin peeled back to show red meat spewing blood. Muscles twisted and tightened. His ruined eye was a ruined mess of white jelly and fluid. Donn gritted his teeth and towered over the human.

  Donn twitched his face and with that motion, the cut across his face was faded to ash, leaving not even a scar in its wake. His eye and nose were healed without hindrance.

  “How dare you.” Donn murmured. “How dare you.”

  Fred spluttered. “What the…? What…how…”

  Donn breathed in deeply and when he exhaled, thick black vapours escaped his mouth. He was more demon than man. Rage had consumed him.

  Such a sight would quell the rage and bluster of many a man. Such sights do not belong in our world for a reason. It would prove too much for the human mind to comprehend an rationalise. Fred didn't bother wasting another second facing the unkillable demon before him.

  He screamed, turned and fled towards the exit, as fast as his feet could carry him. So terrified that he was, so stricken out of his mind with abject fear, that he did not register that he had soiled his trousers. He even didn’t give Emily a glance in her general direction as he reached the entrance and flew down the stairs and out of the station, screaming in terror as he fled.

  Both Emily and Donn remained there as the echoes of Fred’s shoes eventually faded away. When silence returned, Donn turned back at Emily and sighed.

  With that sigh, his eyes reclaimed their light. But as such was the case, he was still rather angry. So he patted down his suit, straightened his hair and walked towards the tunnel. On the way, he looked back at Emily and gave her an open-palmed hand gesture.

  It was to tell her to remain where she was.

  “Excuse me,” he said with a small smile. “I must now go collect Mister Fry.”

  Having seen what she had seen, Emily couldn’t think of anything else she’d rather do. To her, perhaps it was in her interest that she did not attract that particular anger. Emily nodded and Donn walked down the stairs and disappeared into the tunnel.

  A few minutes dragged by till he returned. Emily could see that he was holding onto a silver cigarette case and had just snapped it shut.

  A coin… and a cigarette case, she thought with her mind working in overdrive to keep up with the rapid chain of events that unfolded before her. He uses tools. Okay… No scythe, no hooded cloak… just a bloke in the city going about his day… Fuck me, he’s not even scratched…

  He slid it into his pocket, retook his seat on the bench and reclined there.

  He crossed his legs and looked towards Emily, without saying a word. Emily felt his eyes on her and looked back.

  “What?” she asked.

  “So. What are you thoughts?”

  “My thoughts?” Emily snorted derisively.

  “…I understand.”

  “Can’t you die? My dad- He cut your face.”

  “Yes.”

  “With a knife. It went right across your face!”

  “Yes.”

  “Knife! Across your face!”

  “It was a large knife, wasn’t it?”

  “So?”

  “So, I cannot die by those means. Mortal means, I mean.”

  “Right, right…right…”

  Emily sat down on the bench. Her legs were shaking. She rubbed her face.

  “Alright. Look. For the sake of me being obviously curious…” she began, then hesitated at the very notion that she was entertaining and finally continued cautiously.

  “Do you know when I am going to die?” She finally had the courage to ask. “I mean, you must’ve known that Kyle was going to die. Right?” She watched his eyes. She wanted to know.

  She wanted to know if all she had suffered so far was worth it.

  Those black eyes met hers. “Why?”

  “I just want to know.”

  Donn gave her another look, unreadable and searching, then he said, “You have a long life, Emily Davidson. To be honest, I can’t see how it will go for you. It is murky and unknowable. But I can tell you that you will live for a very long time… Is that sufficient?”

  Emily nodded and smiled slightly. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Donn glanced at his cigarette case with its newest passenger.

  Curious though… Kyle Fry should not have died today. Her father killed him and that was that. And when I took his soul, I saw the time of Fry’s death change to that point… He should not have died this night. He was suppose to die ten years from now, in a car crash. Hmm…

  There is something odd at play here.

  Her father altered the Schedule. I shall have to inquire this back at home. I must find answers… Donn looked Emily. What an intriguing child. There is a power about her. I cannot place my finger on its identity, but it is strong… Maybe that is the reason for my presence here…

  A train’s distant whistle echoed through the night. Emily looked to her right as a London overground train carriage pulled into the station. But unlike the others, this was a single carriage with no engine. The lights were all off, so that nothing could be seen within the black windows. There seemed to be no driver in the front of the carriage. It slid to a stop, with one of the doors stopping directly in front of Donn. The doors slid open, revealing more of the darkness within. Donn stood up and started packing his belongings.

  “Here’s my ride. It was good to meet you, Emily. If I am not mistaken, your train should be arriving as soon as mine leaves.” Donn finished packing, turned towards Emily and offered his hand to her. “Good luck Emily. Have a nice life.”

  “OK.” She shook his hand.

  Donn turned on his heel and put on step onto the train.

  Emily suddenly called out to him. “Donn!”

  Donn looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  Emily didn’t say anything. Her hands were clenched as was her teeth. She looked at the train, then at Donn and at her bag filled with stolen belongings.

  She looked around at London. This city that was once her home. But not anymore. What did it have left for her at that point? Nothing. Nothing at all.

  She looked that train and saw only possibility.

  She snorted a laugh. She finally gulped and looked back at Donn. “Take me with you!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Y-Yeah! Take me with you!”

  “Uh….Why Emily?”

  Emily opened her arms at him. “Look at me. Look at where I am. I’ve got NO ONE to care for me. Nor anyone I care about either. It doesn't matter where I go, it’ll just be the same like it is here. I have no life here. I- I don’t belong here. Please Donn, take me with you.”

  Donn stared at the girl, who bravely stared back.

  “Do you think that is going to be some sort of adventure where you think you’ll find some true purpose or meaning in life or something? My work is death, Emily. Death. I REAP souls. No place for a fifteen year old girl.”

  “I can take care of myself, Donn.”

  “Lots of death. Lots of pain. Lots of horror. And danger.”

  “Well, it’s got be better than the life I have here!”

  “For feck’s sake, Emily! I’m trying to discourage you! Get on your own damned train.”

  Emily stepped back and crossed her arms. Donn nodded and turned away.

  “It’s for your own good Emily. I’d rather not have the responsibility of taking care of a living- Excuse me!?”

  While Donn’s back was turned, Emily sprinted. She ran at the train’s entrance and saw the doors closing before her. With one final vault of her legs, she launched herself through the doorway and into the carriage, just as the doors clanged shut.

  Donn whirled about and stared at Emily as she stood up, smugly secured in the carriage.

  Emily gave him another of her defiant, petulant looks. “Too late.” The train began moving.

  Donn’s eyes twitched in frustration. She stared back at him with defiance.

  “Go on, throw me off. See what happens.” she goaded him.

  Then he exhaled a grating sigh. “Oh for the love of-” Another grating sigh. “……If you come with me, Emily,” he warned, “you may never be able to come back to this world. You understand this?”

  Emily stuck her hands into her pockets and didn’t move a muscle.

  “Fine. But you better pull your own weight, you hear me? I am not a babysitter.”

  Emily shrugged with a smile. “Easy enough.”

  Donn laughed grimly as he let Emily pass by him into the darkness. “Sure…”

  Emily snorted another laugh as the train pulled away from the station slowly. It then gained speed, faster and faster, until it hurled itself away from the station and into the darkness.

  It faded from sight entirely, taking its noise with it.

  The station was left silent and empty.

  Faint police and ambulance sirens echoed in the darkened city and all was calm once again.