The Unfortunate Incident

Rachel stood among the other girls, cursing softly. Another car passed without even a glance in their direction. She had been standing on Fen Street, one of Silvertown's numerous red-light districts, with dozens of other girls for four fruitless hours, and she was tired and hungry. She lit a cigarette.

"Damn, business is bad," a red-haired girl moaned. 

"Very bad," a plump, dark-haired girl agreed.

"It's the fault of these newcomers," a tall buxom girl declared bitterly. "They're ruining the trade by underpricing because they aren't interested in making money and are only eager to get into cars with guys."

The others agreed. A general discussion was launched about how to get rid of the newcomers.

Rachel listened to them with sympathy. She shared their feelings of discontent, but the newcomers weren't to blame; the Silvertown economy was on a downward spiral.

"Don't blame us for being too ugly to get men, you old hag!" A frog-faced teenager in the crowd injected rudely,

 The buxom girl flared up. "Who are you talking to, you little brat?" 

The two girls began to hurl insults while their colleagues urged restraint. A fight would further reduce business and attract the attention of the cops.

Rachel rolled her eyes and moved away from the rabble. It was the same bickering and fighting night after night, and she was sick of it. 

The struggle to survive was hard enough that she could do without the drama. She put out her cigarette and considered her options. Stay within the safety of the group, or take the risk of going solo?

As the argument intensified, she made her decision and began walking away from the group along the dimly lit street.

Her heart pounded as she remembered stories going around about a serial strangler on the prowl. She knew the risk she was taking but was driven by desperation.

Suddenly, a beam of headlights held her as a car pulled up towards her. She approached the driver.

"Hey beauty," he leered, "how about going to your place for some fun?"

"Sure," she said with false confidence. "As long as the money is good."

"Two thousand dollars all night."

"Show me,"

He brought out his fat wallet and waved it at her, grinning at her obvious surprise.

Her eyes bugged. Two thousand dollars was a fortune for her. 

"What do I have to do?" She asked with uncertainty.

"What do you do best?" His grin widened, showing yellow broken teeth.

She hesitated. This seems to be a catch; the price was too good to be true, plus the look in this creepy-looking guy's eyes made her uneasy, but the money was too good to pass up.

The hell with it. She thought to herself, then got in beside him. They drove in silence to her boarding house, located on a dark street littered with potholes and trash-filled garbage cans. She led him into her small room.

"Let's have the money and get down to it," she told him.

He regarded her with a malevolent smile, taking in her slim frame, and heart-shaped face, with round dark eyes, a small straight nose, and sensual lips. Then he came to stand behind her.

"Are you really ready for this, sweet heart?" He whispered in her ear.

She didn't have time to answer. She felt something strange, a rope around her neck! Then, she realized she was in danger.

She tried as much as she could to loosen the grip of the rope on her but couldn't. He squeezed her harder. Rachel Kas hadn't spent four years on the street without learning a few tricks. She leaned forward and rammed her head back into his face. 

He screamed and doubled over. She loosened the rope as he rose, nose bloody, eyes blazing, and charged towards her. Panicking, she picked up her vanity stool and brought it down on his head.

He collapsed to the floor. She leaned against the wall, shaky with adrenaline, till she saw the widening pool of blood around the inert figure, then realized he was dead!

Grabbing her purse, she fled from the room and into the street.

"This is bad, this is bad!" she muttered, then burst into tears. 

"What should I do now?" 

"Call the police?" 

"Would they believe me?"

"Definitely not!" 

She had to get away, and only one person could help her escape. Pulling herself together, she pulled out her cell and made a call.

The person answered on the third ring, sounding sleepy. 

"Hello," 

"Richie, I need help."

"Where are you?" He was instantly awake.

"At the end of my street,"

"I'll be there in ten minutes,"

Exactly ten minutes later, Richie Johnson's motorcycle pulled up beside her. 

"What happened, Ray?" He asked anxiously, hugging her warmly to calm her down.

"He's dead in my room. A client... He attacked me. It was an accident."

"Slow down, Ray, hop on." 

He handed her an extra helmet, and she got on behind him.

He rode into town, stopping at an all-night café. They went in and ordered coffee.

"Now tell me what's up."

She told him the whole story, showing the bruising on her neck.

"I'm afraid, Richie; I don't really know what to do now!" 

"If I should go to the police, they might not believe me; I don't want to be locked up."

He nodded. "The police think the worst of people like us. The jerk deserved it, though. Finish up; I'll think of something."

She felt better. Richie always came up with a solution. They'd known each other since she'd first come to Silvertown at sixteen, on the run from her abusive foster parents. Richie had taken a romantic interest in her, but the fact that he was nearly a decade older than her had put her off, so they had remained friends instead. They finished their coffee, paid the bill, and headed out.

"Wait here, let me find an ATM; I'll be right back," he told her. 

Puzzled, she waited. Minutes later, he was back. He handed her some bills.

"Here, it's all my savings." 

"Take it and get out of town tonight. Go to Newtown; it's far from here, and the cost of living is low. Change your identity and start over. Don't worry about the jerk in your room. I'll take care of him."

"I'll make sure you're not involved."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, "$3000?" she whispered, then hugged him.

"Thanks Richie I owe you."

"Anything for my ride—and die, come on, I'll drop you at the train station."

"Promise, you'll reach out if you ever need anything, Ray."

"I promise, bye and thanks." She hugged him and was surprised when he gently held her cheeks, and kissed her lips. She responded, then hastily pulled away. They smiled at each other before she boarded the train.

Throughout the journey, she thought about the kiss, and her heart fluttered. She liked Richie very much, though, but it wouldn't work between them, she told herself, especially now that she was on the run.

She turned her attention to her current problem.

I'm going to have to adopt a new name. She thought about startin

g a new life, but how? "Well, if anything goes wrong, I've promised to call on Richie."

Years later, she would regret making that promise.