Always There

1

It was a grey day in England, as usual. It looked like it was going to rain, as it often did. The faint smell of smoke and freshly baked pastries floated through the slight breeze.

I hurried down the street, my face pointed downward, watching the pavement pass under me quickly as I briskly walked to where I was going to meet her. I barely glanced up every once in a while to make sure I wasn't going to run into anyone.

I wasn't. The streets were uncongested, due to the number of people at work, considering it was mid-morning on a Tuesday.

In my right hand, I carried a brown plastic grocery bag. I mentally made a note to find a better way to transport things- however, for the time being, it helped me blend in, look like a commoner.

But I wasn't, was I?

The plastic bag containing not-so-ordinary contents was a good cover. I was wearing a relatively nice white cocktail dress that cinched at my waist and flowed down to just above my knees. Paired with the semi-formal dress were a pair of black slingback heels, adding a good three and a half inches to my height. Over it was a simple black jacket, faux leather that I didn't mind ruining.

I didn't have a particular need to dress nicely- I just liked it, was comfortable in it, preferred it to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

I kept my pace, hoping I wouldn't be late.

I wouldn't. I knew that.

I drew my gaze back up to see a man slowing his pace, his eyes making his way up my body. It was truly a struggle not to gag.

The question now was whether I should call him out on it or to quietly embarrass him. I decided on the latter, considering I was in somewhat of a hurry.

So I stared at him with fierce intensity, one that made him startled when his disgusting gaze made it up to my face. I radiated danger; and I could tell by the look in his eyes, one of a frightened animal.

His speed quickened again, and the smirk on his face had been wiped away. Casting his eyes down at the ground in respectful shame, he muttered a sorry as he passed by me, obviously terrified.

Not intending on actually doing it, I accidentally managed to trip him. Originally, I hadn't planned on that, considering there was no audience to silently shame him.

The man flew forward, his hands stretching out in front of his body to shield the more weak parts of him from slamming into the concrete. Hitting the ground, he actually recovered at possibly record speed, standing up and brushing himself off in the space of about 5 seconds. 

He gulped, seeing my eyes still boring into him, hatred coursing through my veins. Awkwardly, he nodded at me as if to apologize before turning and walking away once again.

I half-smiled in an almost sinister way after he had passed me, the left corner of my lips pulling up with satisfaction. I liked the effect I had on people, the respect I could force into them wordlessly, my words unneeded and made up for by the edgy look in my eyes.

Focusing on my destination that I could see now in the distance, I saw only a man in a suit who was looking down at his iPhone, texting.

He was dressed as nicely as I was- odd, considering he hadn't just come from work, I could tell.

Now the man put one hand in his pocket, scrolling through something on the screen.

I cast my eyes back down, not wanting him to think I had noticed him; so I acted like I was searching for my phone in my jacket, quite convincingly too, if I do say myself.

After ten seconds or so of pretending to seek my phone, I mock gave up. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders to nobody in particular, just another part of the act. That was the moment when the two people that just happened to be walking down a deserted street at the same time collided- me and phone guy.

He immediately looked up, saying sorry on reflex but not automatically meaning it. His brown eyes stared into mine for a second, a stunned look flickering across his face.

Why was he looking at me like that? A feeling of annoyance fused with a bit of surprise filled me, as I daringly stared back, trying as hard as I could to seem angry and unapproachable. Usually, it only takes half a second in situations like these before the other person gets too uncomfortable and breaks eye contact.

He regained himself, my normal look of unfriendliness not affecting him in the slightest. Meaning it this time, he managed a sorry as he bent over to pick up the bag, which sat limp on the ground between us.

I mentally cursed. Part of a handgun was sticking out of the bag, perfectly visible. When he saw it, instead of questioning it or becoming frightened, he smiled, a ominous smile that would have sent chills through any ordinary person.

Wait, what?

I was accustomed to that smile.

I used it almost every day.

The smile never leaving his face, he casually pushed the gun back into the bag with the other various items and picked it up and handed it to me.

Again, he seemed captivated by me. I gave a fake smile back, saying "Thanks," injecting just a hint of intimidation into my voice as I took the bag from his grasp.

For some reason, it seemed like he was watching me. It wasn't that he was just looking at me, it was as if, while looking at me, he was gauging me- my reactions, my facial expressions, my body language, everything.

I glanced over his shoulder, now slightly worried I was going to be late, even though it didn't really matter if I wasn't on time.

In a broken Irish accent, the man smoothly said, "Jim Moriarty. What's your name?" He had turned his head to the side now, and was looking at me as if I was a puzzle he was trying to solve, a puzzle that he couldn't quite figure out.

I sucked in a quick breath, ready to lie as usual, but the hint of a threat in his flirty voice stopped me. Whatever it was about this man, I was compelled to tell him the truth. Again I felt uncomfortable, I was supposed to be the dangerous one. So I decided to rebound his manner right back at him.

"Bella Warren," I told him, putting on the same quietly menacing smile and giving him an intense stare like I had given the other man. Usually, it made them turn into putty in my hands.

But 'Jim' kept his resolve. He nodded, swallowing and glancing at the ground as he did. Then the smile slid from his face. "I'll be seeing you around, Bella," he said, in an almost commanding way. He said it as fact, not as an uncertainty, something that he hoped to happen.

I narrowed my eyes at him ever so slightly, dropping my smile as well. "Somehow I doubt that," I sneered, a sharp edge to my voice. I wasn't going to just let him threaten me without fighting back.

Moriarty just laughed at that, standing where he was a second more, observing my face like he was trying to memorise it. Then, the laughter stopped, and he brushed past me, a grin on his face like he was having an inside joke with himself, or like he knew something I didn't.

As soon as he was gone, I relaxed my shoulders, which had tensed up, unbeknownst to me. Something about Jim made me uneasy. It was like he had just met a new challenge, a riddle that he was determined to solve.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch before regaining myself and continuing my walk down the street. Thankfully, there was a lack of activity all around, so no one had witnessed anythng, except maybe the man out cleaning the windows at the front of the little eatery.

I pulled my phone out of my jacket as I steadily paced down the street, my shoes making soft clicking noises.

11:08. Fashionably late. As I swung open the door to the small cafe, my head held high as normal, I decided I liked being fashionably late.