Death Riders

Chapter 1. Pink on Grey

If you ask me, I would've said London has the biggest slum in the world. In fact, London is a big giant slum that smelt of piss and unsanitary water. The rich just have numerous air fresheners and filtration systems.

The upper-class families tend to visit the east end of London every now and then to donate less than a trillionth of their wealth to unlucky people. The aristocrats who make donations like these are often viewed as magnanimous even though they're just making donations in hopes of diluting their heathenistic culture.

I have grown to loathe the rich for what they try to be portrayed as. Just because they throw a few pence into the hands of the needy doesn't justify actions to sleep with the lady of the night. Meanwhile, their spouse waits restlessly for them to come home.

"Please, miss!" A child begged as he tugged on my rather extravagant dress mother forced me to wear. I looked at the child no more than 9 years of age with drooped eyes and reached to my bag only to find it empty. With my quick hands, I pulled out a few bills from my mother's purse. Mother's eyes were drilling into my skull but she didn't dare scold me when curious eyes are watching us. She had an image to uphold.

I bent down on one knee as my sisters and mother stared down at me, glaring at the pink fabric that came into contact with the mud. "Here you go." I flashed him a toothy smile before he took off running to his mother.

"How wonderful of you, Vivienne." Mother clapped her hands together and watched me in forced awe, hiding the scowl she would use to scold me later at home.

"Thank you, mother." I cleaned off the mud from my dress with the cashmere handkerchief a suitor gifted me and continued on walking as mother distributed shillings to those who begged.

"Vivienne is a very charitable woman, is she not?" My eldest sister, 2 years older than me, Adelaine spoke to the gentleman suitor beside her. She took after mother's features with striking blue eyes and curly blonde locks. She carried herself like how a woman should; covered her mouth with her handkerchief as she laughed, curtsied politely to every suitor she encountered, ate a pigeon's portion and believed that being a wife and a mother was her passion, not a mission. She has also grown to be quite the snob for if she weren't in front of her active suitor, she would've condescended every poor and refuse to donate a speck of her fortune to the people of the slums. I admire her sometimes because if it were not for her, mother would've had to wear a wig to hide her shedding hair from taking care of me.

"Oh, yes." Her suitor, Bellerick, almost sounded shocked. "I can see why Mr. Murphy is head over heels for her."

I heard my other sister snort. Mr. Murphy was one of the many nuisances I have to endure on a day to day basis. He was adamant about having me ever since I was a debutante, proposed to me on several occasions but in every single one, I rejected him. There were too many reasons to refuse him, I couldn't pick just one! It could be that he was 30 years my senior or that he consumes more cigars than he breathes air. He has been in the police force for over 20 years and mother says a man in his rank could prove useful for the family business, Marsedon Printing Press. Yet, Mr. Murphy proves to be nothing but useless for the years I've known him.

My second eldest sister -Elizabeth- was no better than Adelaine. Although more relatable, Elizabeth was snobby and our father's favourite. She would ask for money every day and father would delightfully present her ten pounds a day to fulfil her craving for everything that shines in the light. Like father like daughter, she was materialistic as she was beautiful.

"Mr. Murphy is an amicable man with a prestigious record." Oh great, another endorsement of Mr. useless. "I heard-"

And that's about the time I focused on other things that mattered such as swipe some dough from my mother's purse to hand to those who needed it more.