Death Flower: A Black Butler FanFiction ©

Death Flower - Black Butler - Chapter One

England, London - 01:12 am. 

Adalia 

The street was desolate, streetlights were flickering, the roads and pavements were covered in puddles from the downpour of rain.

"Typical," I mumbled, pulling out a cigarette and a match, I swiped the match across a brick from the building in front of me, and the small fire emitted a soft orange glow. Leaning against the wall, I lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the warm, welcoming smoke rush through my windpipe. The alley way was grotty and dirty, but at least it kept me in the shadows and hidden from the law. 

"Adalia?" That familiar, squeaky voice rang in my ears and caused another migraine to surface. 

"Yes?" I asked irritably, taking another long inhale of smoke. 

"There's no one here, we should try another street," Looking up, I saw my good friend Clarabelle standing there with disappointment plastered on her face. She wore a very low cut dress that ended at her ankles. Her cleavage was very noticeable, the only thing that ruined it was her matted, knotty hair. If it was clean and curled, she'd look just like goldy locks - but sluttier, but that was essential, I guess. I wore practically the same thing except my hair was washed and straight. 

"You're right, Clarabelle, just let me finish this," I replied, holding up my cigarette as ash fell from the end of it. She nodded and lent against the wall next to me. Instinctively, I held out a fresh cigarette for her, which she gladly took. 

"Thanks," She said smiling. Pulling out her own box of matches, she swiped it across the brick and the match came to life with fire. 

We stood there in silence until my cigarette burnt out and I dropped the butt onto the ground and grinded it into the mud with my heel. 

Together, me and Clarabelle walked along the pavement in silence, when finally, we reached the end of the block and took a swift turn into another street and my heart leapt with joy as I saw a couple of men roaming the streets, their hands shoved in their pockets. I smiled toward Clarabelle as she did toward me. 

"We're getting money tonight!" She cheered, approaching one of the lonely men. 

Living as a prostitute sure was a hard thing to do, but we got by. I was drove into it because my parents were so poor and ill. Eventually, they both died of tuberculosis, but I was never able to escape from this life, and somehow I always knew that was the case. 

"Hello there, sweet-cheeks, looking for some fun?" A deep voice said from behind me, their large hand placed on my waist. 

"For a price," I replied simply, balling my hands into fists. I couldn't handle it when men touched me like this, dirty men. A while back, when I first got into this business, I thought I could handle always being able to feel their dirty hands all over me, but as time went by after my parents passed, it's gotten harder. 

"One hundred shillings," The man scoffed, turning me around swiftly to face him. He was a truly putrid man, his gums were black and jutting out of them were a row of yellow teeth top and bottom. The odour he emitted attacked my nostrils and caused bile to rise in my throat.

"No way am I payin' that much money for a whore like you!" He roared, rising his hand to strike me. Backhanding me, I fell to the floor and spotted an alley way just within my reach, and too narrow for the man's plump belly that poked out of his waist coat. I hastily crawled, and just as I thought I would make it, he grabbed my ankle and began pulling me back. Struggling against his strength, I clawed at the floor and the walls desperately. I looked around frantically for anything to hold onto, and my eyes landed on a flower that lay comfortably on a small patch of weeds.