MERCEDES WAS NEVER FOND OF THE OCEAN, presumably because of its depth and darkness, and the monsters looming under the vast water. But then, there are also monsters walking on earth, humans. These monsters live inside their head and slowly besmirch it. Tainting it until they win. Terrible.
"How long 'till we reach Small Heath, Noah?" she asked the young lad who maneuvers the boat as she got out from the cabin, provided by a good friend of hers. He turned his face and smiled a little bit.
"One more night, Ms. de Silva. Are you starvin?" Noah replied that made her nod and shrug both at the same time. "I ate the fruits Ollie gave us, and you? I think I can manage to steer, but you have to eat fast or else we will end up drowning."
He laughed wholeheartedly, he must think she is fooling around. "'M good at swimming, Ms. de Silva."
"And I am not, now go on before I crash this boat," the woman winked at him as she took over the steer. The wind was chilly and she was sure the water is freezing. We can't drown, not today, she thought. Minutes passed by and Noah was done, that is her cue to went back inside the cabin.
Everything is going to be just fine.
I hope.
The sun was almost setting when the two individuals reached Small Heath, Mercedes examined the place before giving her hand to Noah. The heels of her shoe immediately sunk when she lands, looking around one more time. "We hafta get going, Ms. de Silva," Noah reminded her, carrying the two leather suitcases as they made their way out from the canal.
The gray fog almost covered the entirety of the small area of Birmingham. It was similar to what she had seen in London for every morning, except that the fog in Small Heath was thicker and darker.
There were no trace of people outside the lane when they got there, probably still sleeping in. The house that she bought was in watery lane, it was far smaller compared to where she resides back in Islington. The interiors were old and moldy, most of the wallpapers were all torn up. Not that I care. Noah helped the woman settle down before deciding to travel back to Camden Town, after that she gave the young lad a wad of paper notes as an appreciation gift, but he respectfully declined.
And just like that, Mercedes is all alone again.
The woman double-checked if she locked all the windows and doors before heading upstairs to the bedroom. Mercy did not bother putting her clothes inside the wardrobe, for she has to be always ready just in case she needs to flee.
The woman lifted her blankets and crawled into bed, watching the ceiling above her. Wondering if she made the right decision—if everything she had done will turn out just fine. She was growing tired of chasing a sliver of hope in the seam of oblivion.
As a child, her grandmother always told her to chase her dreams, and that's exactly what she did. Mercedes realized what her purpose in life is, to save lives, to never make the same mistakes back then. She will not let anyone crush her dreams into pieces, not even her father.
So she did what she had to do, she did what she was good at. Running away. Leaving at the ripe age of 17, she abandoned everything behind. She took a leap of faith, no matter what the consequences she may face for pursuing what she wanted. Some may say she was a coward for escaping, what do these people even know? This world is only made for the brave, and she wasn't.
It was nightfall when she woke from a deep sleep, with an empty stomach, Mercy grabbed the black fur coat that was hanging on the wall rack and wore it over the dress she was wearing since they arrived here. She overslept, hence, she was tired and energized at the same time. People were now scattered when she left the house, even the youngins were still playing out in the dark.
"The seventh angel sounded his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, which said: The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah," Mercy passed by a preaching man and stopped in front of him to listen, "and he will reign forever and ever," to which he added.
"Amen to that, padre," she politely said that made the side of his lips rose up. "You be careful of the streets, angel," the preacher replied with a fond look, "That I will, same goes to you," the woman bid her goodbye before leaving his presence.
From the corner of her eyes, she found a well-lit pub across the road The Garrison. Few drunkards tried to talk to her but just ignored them and their lustful stares. Oh, how she wanted to pluck their bloody eyes out of its socket.
Mercy hasn't even opened the door yet she can hear the men singing inside, it sounded so horrible. Listening to them feels like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard. Once the woman entered the building, the singing stopped as they wondered who it was.
The pungent smell of strong alcohol, smoke, and wet socks her nostrils picked up made her wince for a second.
"What?" Mercy grunted in an almost annoyed manner, and just like that they continued their business. Her attention flew to a blonde girl standing atop the table who was leading the song. Brows furrowed as she head to the bar, casually pushing the men who are blocking the way.
She sat on an empty chair and called the server, "Ello, love. Are ye alone or waitin for someone?" the barman asked as he approached the unescorted woman, the men around gawking at her.
Her brows furrowed for the second time, can't women drink by themselves all alone?
"No, I'm with the holy ghost," she looked at him straight in the eye and turned her face sideways, pretending she was talking to someone. "He said he wants water, he will turn that to wine for me," Mercy returned her gaze to him.
Before he could even speak, the door to the pub opened once again. This time, the silence was deadly. "Thank God," she muttered in a low breath. But not for the blonde girl as she kept on singing.
"The boy I love is looking at me,
Can't you see him standing there?" the girl sang in an almost nervous tone.
Mercy shot a glance at the door and noticed the three men wearing the same color of coat and peaked cap. The man in the middle shifted his attention, boring his cold icy eyes to hers. The woman would be lying if she did not say that it was the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she has seen in her entire life.
Oh, seré condenada...
She was never fond of the ocean, presumably because of its depth and darkness, but looking into the man's eyes felt like she was drowning in them.
Mervy inhaled sharply, breaking the eye contact she had made with the unfamiliar man, she then faced the barman who is now talking, "We aven't had singing in 'ere since the war."
"Why do you think that is, Harry?" his deep voice sounded so mad and serious at the same time, a trail of goosebumps went down her spine. Well, to be fair I would also be mad if I hear singing that sounds like someone is strangling a cat.
The woman placed a cigarette on the side of her lips and took out a lighter from the pockets of her coat. Once it was lit, Mercy inhaled the smoke coming from the stick and shook the ashes on the ashtray.
"I'll have gin on the rocks," she called the attention of the poor barman to save him from the embarrassment, he quickly nodded and attended to her drink. The chattering resumed when the two other men started talking.
Mercy felt someone sat on an empty stool beside her, but she dared not to look, not until he spoke, "Are you a whore?" asked a baby-faced man with a toothpick between his pink lips. His eyes were also blue, but not as dazzling as those icy blue eyes.
She raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down, "Even if I was, you simply cannot buy me."
Mercy's answer to his question made the tall man behind him laughing, while the man with high cheekbones had a playful smirk on his lips. "Ya got me there, love. 'M John, what's yer name?" John grinned at her and asked again for the second time as he took off his peaked cap, that is when she noticed a razor etched to its peak.
Puta madre.
"Imogen," she answered simply and looked at John's eye straightly. "Yer from Ireland?" the tall man with funny mustache now asked.
"Yes, I am," Harry put the glass in front of her with a concerned look, as the blonde girl made her way behind the bar.
"You're far away from home," the other man stated and asked Harry for a bottle of Irish whiskey, apparently, it was on the house and he is called Mr. Shelby.
"And what about it?" she swirled the ice before taking a sip from it, "This one's Arthur, and this one's Thomas," John introduced his brothers as he stood up, making her nod.
"Lovely meeting ya, Imogen," Arthur asked for her hand and kissed the top it the gentleman's way, while Thomas just blankly stared at Mercy, probably not pleased with her answer. She emptied the glass and searched her pockets for coins, placing them on the countertop, and left the burning cigarette on the ashtray.
"I'll pay for the gentlemen's drink," Mercy told the barmaid with an unexplainable look painted on her face, before the three of them could even head to their private room, she straightened her fur coat and made her way out of the pub. Walking down as if she owns the world.
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𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎 : 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛
𝚜𝚎𝚛é 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚊 : 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚎𝚍