NEW CHAPTERS COMING SOON.
Small Heath, Birmingham, was an unsafe place to be. Men stumbling drunk out of pubs, whores there waiting for them on the side of the street, with gang fights happening around the corner. Unsafe for young girls... but not i...
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• • •
"Don't ask me to lie,
Then beg for forgiveness."
• • •
~Harry's POV~
It couldn't have been no earlier than two in the morning; the police department was dead with nothing but the sound of my feet squeaking along the tiled floor as I came back into consciousness.
My mind was racing; this situation wasn't just bad; this was very, very bad. Diabolically bad. I needed to figure a way out of here quickly. An empty police station is dangerous, with no one to witness any beatings off the book. However, an empty police station was an unprepared one; if I was going to escape, it had to be soon.
As I was being hauled along from the top of my arms, my right hand snaked between the officer's coat and his uniform; I reached his belt, unlooping a small key, praying to God it would match the handcuffs they would no doubt place me in. People never expect a thief to be a forward thinker, but you must be if you live on the streets.
Hiding the key in my hand, I knew I could conceal it from the officers by using the sleight of hand tricks Leroy had taught me.
We reached a room with a single bulb light hanging from the ceiling as I was shoved into a blood-stained chair. Feeling the cold metal of handcuffs as my hands were snatched and forcefully jerked behind me, I let out an internal sigh of relief as I obscured the key from the officer's vision, gripping it between two of my knuckles. So far, so good.
I was brought out of my thoughts by a couple of violent punches to my gut and then my face, causing my head to snap from side to side repeatedly.
Coughing on the blood in my mouth, I stared at my feet, trying to stop my vision from spinning. My tongue dipped out of my mouth to lick the blood oozing out of my split lip as it trickled down my chin, dripping onto my shirt below.
Once the inspectors' goons had finished their fun, they exited the room, leaving me to myself. I knew I only had a short moment before someone would return, so I began undoing the handcuffs, careful not to drop the key.
Once my wrists were free, I placed the key out of the way in my left pocket. Hearing footsteps echoing down the stairs, I quickly returned my hands to position, holding onto the unlocked handcuffs to pretend I was still restrained.
"Well, well, Harry Spring." A voice broke the silence, causing my gaze to meet the inspectors as he spoke. I kept still and quiet throughout his little speech, waiting for an opportunity to arise where I could escape.
• • •
'BRING, BRING!" Quite literally saved by the bell, I internally chuckled; maybe there is a God up there, I pondered.
Watching the Inspector, I waited for him to be fully emersed in his conversation before quietly standing up, placing the handcuffs down as a little present for Campbell, knowing it would just piss him off.
Creeping up the stairs making sure my footsteps were so light the concrete building wouldn't have any noise to echo, subsequently giving me away. Stalking along the corridor, there was no one in sight. Maybe I had saved all my life's luck up for tonight, or perhaps they didn't think a street kid would outsmart them.
Making my way to the reception area, I paused, watching the officer at the desk go about his duties, writing in a document of some kind. Knowing he was entirely distracted and not expecting anyone to be lurking, I slipped along the wall, making my way to the door. The sound of the door opening must have brought the officer out of his trance as he shouted: "Oi! You, Stop there!".
His shout was shortly followed by another belonging to Inspector Campbell: " Get after him!"
But they were all too late. I had slipped out into the street, running as far I could, never once looking back.
• • •
Sticking to the shadows of the streets, the sun had risen with men and women buzzing around getting to work. I continued down the road, eyes scanning, looking for any pigs or blinders.
Taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, I sucked in, inhaling the tobacco, wincing as the action made my face sting from the beating I was given. My head throbbed from earlier that morning as I brought my hand up to my head, touching something sticky in my hair. Yep, that was blood. Gosh, I must look like a walking dead man, I chuckled, trying to find the light side of my dire situation.
A few minutes passed, and I spotted him kicking a ball with his friends. Taking the cigarette from my mouth, I let out a quiet whistle, loud enough for the kid to hear but not so loud it would draw attention.
He looked up from his game, looking around to see where the noise had come from. Once his eye met mine, I beckoned him over with a wave.
He ran over, knowing me from when I had paid him to knock on the Shelby's door a few days ago. He couldn't have been any older than ten years, with dusty blonde hair and a dirt-smudged face.
Once he was close enough, I spoke out softly so only he could hear, with my eyes still fixed on scanning the street.
"Go to the little bridge down by the cut this evening; at five, there will be a man there, tall, slightly tanned face. Tell him to meet me at the church at seven."
He nodded his head but raised his hand out for a tip.
"Alright, you cheeky shit," I chuckled, tipping the young boy a sixpence. More than what I would usually tip a messenger, but I had a soft spot for the kid. He almost reminded me of myself.
He ran back, continuing his game with his friends as I slipped back into the shadow, waiting for seven o'clock.
