I Found You

Part 7. Killing Someone.

"You'd work for me?". Tommy asked, a little shocked. "I thought I already was?". I smirked. "So you are coming to the races?". He asked. "Two pound, ten shillings". He added, as he then fished in his pocket for some notes and money. "Ten shillings". He said as he slapped the notes and a couple of coins, down on to the pub counter top. "Make sure you wear red, to go with his handkerchief". He then added, as he began to walk away. "Who's handkerchief?!". I called out after him, but got no repsonse. The day continued and it was the same old, same old, a little boring today, if you ask me.

Before I knew it, my shift was over luckily for me, it was when it was still light outside, so I needn't worry about walking home, in the dark alone, or so I thought it would be alright. I was about two minutes from home, when I heard the shuffling of feet behind me, only to find one drunken man stumbling around behind me, no one else was around, as I had taken the back alley way to get home, as it was a little quicker than, the main road way. I chose to ignore him and go about just concentrating on getting home. It wasn't until the man drunkenly cat called me, so stupid me stopped to turn around to see if it was me, who he was talking too.

I then ran to hide behind a wall, as I was still a little away from home and I didn't want him knowing where I lived, if he followed me. Just when I thought the coast was clear, the man came out of nowhere and grabbed me and placed his hand over my mouth and dragged me down the alley way. At that moment all I could think of was, oh god please not again, wasn't once enough, please don't let it happen to me again. The man then slammed me up against the wall. I wanted to desperately to call for help, but the words wouldn't come out of my mouth, I was so scared of what he might do.

"Fancy me do ya?". He slurred into my ear. I noticed right away, that he was Irish from his accent. "What are you, a copper?". He then asked again, rather angrily. I then frightenedly, slapped him across the face hoping that, that would allow me to escape, but it didn't work. It only made him tighten his grip and slap me back twice as hard, the sting of the slap burned my cheek and made my eyes water. "English whore!". He screamed in my face. "I've seen ya, I've seen ya face, serving at the Garrison, your with that Tommy Shelby fellow aren't ya?". He asked, but I didn't respond, as he now had a hold of my jaw in his hand. "Come 'ere". He said, as he now had a small pistol held up to my face. "Well I quite fancy meself a redhead and I'm going to take Tommy Shelby's bird and stuff it with my big fat cock!". He seethed through his teeth. "Whether she likes it or not!". He smirked. I then kneed him in the bollocks and tried my hardest to get the gun off him, incase if I ran away he would try and shoot me.

Just then, a loud gun shot pierced through my ear drums. And the man then grunted in pain, until he finally slammed against the wall and then slumped down it, before lying on the ground...dead. I stood there in shock, my breathing becoming irractic, oh my god, I've just killed someone, what the hell am I going to do. I thought to myself. I then, with the gun still clasped in my hand ran home and not stopping until I got all the way there, regardless whether I was out of breath or not.

Luckily for me, no one was home. I just stood at the front window, staring out into nothing. Thunder started to rumble in the sky, bringing me out of my shocked thoughts. I then, ran to my dad's drink cabinet and grabbed the first bottle, I could lay my hands on and took a great big swig of it, to help calm my nerves. Now I don't normally drink, but I can say that, whatever the liquid was, satisfyingly burned my throat, helping me to take my mind of what had just happened, moments ago.

I then, ran out to the netty regardless of the rain pouring it down, to go and be sick, for my stomach was doing flips. I then stopped being sick and wiped my mouth, only for a metallic taste to enter it. I looked down to see my hand that I held the gun with, to be covered in the man's blood. I quickly ran back inside dripping wet from the rain, the little fly aways of my hair sticking to my face, as I went and washed it off in the kitchen sink. After I had washed it off, I then went out into the little plot of garden we had, at the bottom of the yard and checked to make sure no one was peering over their yard walls, before I buried the pistol, so hopefully no one would ever find it, as no one ever really plants anything in here anyway.