Just My Luck

Chapter 1

Darkness. All around me. Closing in.

As my first time out and about in London after just moving here from America, I think I did a pretty bang up job at getting myself utterly and completely lost. It didn't help that it was way past dark and I was quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

Just my luck, I thought to myself, rolling my light hazel eyes.

I graduated from high school about two years ago; moving to London had been the first step in my dream to explore the world.

Somehow, me being my bright and intelligent self, I managed to wander away from the center of London and into some shady backways (that seriously needed some love).

The walls surrounding me were probably 10 feet high, completely made of thick cement. The stench of death permeated the air, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

I was on high alert. Then again, I'm always on high alert; it's like my senses can never calm down from their tense state.

My ears perked up as muffled voices drifted to my senses. My feet seemed to move on their own accord as I drifted towards the sounds. Considering where I was, though, I kept quiet as I found myself a few alleys down.

I crouched behind a barrel in front of me, filled with God knows what, my ears straining to hear the conversation between two dark figures.

"We've given you plenty of chances, Roger," a gruff voice snarled, "and yet we keep coming back to this. What do you suppose we do about that, huh? We can't have everyone thinking the Crimson Syndicate let's people get away with weaseling away from us, now can we? Wouldn't want the boss to have to hear that you were about to tell some very... important things to some people that he isn't very fond of."

The next voice was much higher in pitch. He sounded older than the first, who was maybe late teens, early twenties?

"P-Please, Damien! I s-swear I wasn't going tell anyone anything! I would never betray everyone like that!"

Oh, God... he's begging for this Damien guy to spare his life. What is the Crimson Syndicate, anyways?

I really should leave and pretend like I wasn't witnessing whatever this is, but it's like I'm stuck. For the life of me, I can't turn away.

I watched in complete shock, frozen in fear, as the man pulled something out of the back of his waistline. No, please don't let that be what I think it is. It was like watching a slow-motion movie.

The bang cut through the still silence of the night.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.

I couldn't bring myself to move. I know what that sound was: that was a gun.

Clearly, this man didn't want to be disturbed. I should get out of here while I can. Surely now that the moment had eclipsed, my body would be freed from whatever spell was cast upon it.

Maybe I can report this to the police? I can tell them to look for a young guy named Damien who has a relatively deep voice; then, I can pretend like this never happened.

Yeah, that's a good idea, I attempted to reassure myself.

With that plan in mind, I slowly stood up, snapping myself out of the trance holding me prisoner.

What I wasn't counting on, however, was for Damien to be right in front of the barrel. He must have heard my gasp.

I screamed and whipped around to run, but the attempt was futile.