Walking home alone at night never ends well. Everyone knows that, especially the residents of Draycott, London. Draycott  was a place where gangs ruled the streets and prostitutes were found on every street corner. No child left this place without scars. I wasn't proud of being from such a horrid town, but then again, we don't get chose where we are from. 

All towns have some sort of secret or rumour that keeps people on their toes. For Draycott, it was werewolves. Even though fantasy books were mostly all I ever read, I still had a sense of reality. All but I, the old hag who lived down the street with 5 horrid cats, and Lester the Hobo believed there was some mythical creatures roaming around at night. The reason this rumour had started was when a local man was found mutilated in the Whitaker Forest a few years ago, which was just bordering the outside of East London. 

But let's go back to my nightly dilemma. You see, there was a completely reasonable explanation as to why I was doing this. After school, I went to the library because, you know, books. They were my escape from this ugly reality. Anyways, I had lost track of time and the library had closed while I was still inside.

Everyone had gone home, so I couldn't yell for help. Or call, because my phone was oh so dead when I needed it the most. Not that it would even matter, because I had no one to call. No friends, and with the exception of Flora, no family. Our dad took off for Poland or Russia or wherever the hell he wanted to go as soon as my mother told him she was pregnant. And my mother? She took up drinking and drugs when our lives went on a downhill spiral. My sister Flora was an angel of 6. I wanted a better life for her. It was the only reason I hadn't tried to leave or off myself. I had to stay alive for her, otherwise my mother would ruin her like she ruined herself.  

We didn't have much money, but I had managed to get a job in a coffee shop as a waiter. They were almost reluctant to hire me, solely based on my nose ring and pastel pink hair. But I guess they were desperate, because I got the job. I don't think they'll keep me around much longer because I had thrown hot coffee onto a perverted bugger who thought it was perfectly fine to grab another customer's arse when she passed. The unspoken girl code made me do it, and I regretted not a single damned thing.

I wasn't considered a bad girl, but I wasn't a goody two shoes either. A few years ago, just to piss off my good-for-nothing woman I call Mother, I had dyed my hair fuchsia pink. It had faded to a pastel color now. Maybe it was to show my mother that this wasn't just a teenage rebellion, but I felt like dying it back to a normal color would be like surrendering. But surrendering to what, I didn't know.

Everyone at school avoided me. I was the social outcast, the lowest rank in the sea of popularity. And I wanted to keep it that way. I'd rather be myself than two-faced bitches with fake tits and skin so tan it could classify as orange. At least I was left in peace with my books, even in class. I guess the teachers didn't expect much from me.

Did I want to get somewhere in life? Of course. But it didn't seem very possible. Like I had mentioned before, we lived in Draycott, London. The perfect place for prostitution, rape, and drugs. It was all I had known, and I hated it. Many times I had run away, only to come back because of my sister. And I would never admit it, but for my mother too. Sure, I hated her and she hated me. But she was still my mother, and I couldn't leave her. She would overdose and kill herself if I wasn't there to stop her, and Flora would be placed in some foster home. And I couldn't let that happen.

Sometimes I just wanted to give up, you know? Everything seemed hopeless at the moment. The wind was picking up, and a cold chill hung in the night air. Broken streetlamps and trash littered the dirty streets, and I was pretty sure I would get killed tonight.

My boots clicked the sidewalk. A car passed, headlights bright against the darkness. Rock music blasted from the inside. I watched it curve and sway down the street. The driver was probably drunk or higher than the Empire State building. Either way, I was pretty sure there would be an accident tonight. Maybe I should start hanging out with Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. I could give him a run for his money on pessimism.

I shivered, zipping up my leather jacket. My pink hair invaded my face every time the wind blew against my back. I had half a mind to just stick out my thumb and get hitchhiked, but I would probably get killed sooner that way. 

Without warning, a loud blast came from a nearby alley. The noise was so loud that I screamed a little and tripped on the cracked sidewalk. Pain shot up my leg. I sat on the ground, biting my lip, and inspected it. Through a small rip, blood trickled down. I forced myself to stand back up, fire burning in the wounded knee.

"No!" a gruff voice shouted from the same alleyway where the blast had come from. He sounded in pain. Against my screaming mind, I quietly walked over and stayed in the shadows.

One guy was pushed against the wall by a tall, well-built man. 2 others stood behind him as backup. One was about my height and the other was short and thick. As I neared, I could make out a black object in one of the men's gloved hand. It was a gun. Swallowing my heated nerves, I peeked a little closer. 

I couldn't see the faces of any of them. The 3 guys who seemed to be in control were all wearing the same black jacket and ski masks, and the man who seemed to be in trouble was beaten up too bad to recognize any features. I watched as he moved the gun around his hand with a skillful twirl, and the man flinched.

I inched closer in utter fascination. They exchanged a few rough words. The 2 extra men stood back, watching it happen. And then a loud punch echoed through the alley. I winced. That had to hurt.

So far, no one seemed to have died. Yet. The man who was holding the gun must have fired the shot into the air instead of at anyone. Or at least, that's what I had assumed until the man moved and silver moonlight fell onto a large, raw wound on the victim's leg. My knees shook, but I could feel nothing but the cold ice in my stomach. This was the kind of situation that hinted interference could cost a life.

Another couple words. I could tell the man who held the gun was getting frustrated by the second. He said something, and then it happened.

Now, I had seen some pretty bad shit in my life. But watching someone get killed didn't even come close. The second gunshot echoed through the alley, silencing everything after the loud blast. I froze, feeling numbness creep up my legs.

The man who got shot fell to the floor, dead. I held back a yelp. I didn't have the mind to call for help, and I knew better than to intervene. The guy with the gun stared at the lifeless body, then turned to his helpers. They said something, far too low for me to hear.

It was survival mode in my mind. Without thinking, I turned and ran. My left boot accidentally knocked over a trash can, and everything inside littered onto the streets. An empty soda can rolled into the alley where the men were in.

Shit.

I paused, then ran as fast as I could. I could hear someone speak up, and then rapid footsteps of at least 2 guys. I slipped my book bag off my shoulders and threw it into a corner. It was weighing me down with all the books. I ran, my shoes making a racket down the street. At the last second, I pulled them off and threw them over a passing fence.

Everything was abandoned. For a moment, I thought about just letting them kill me. I had nothing to live for, right? But then I remembered Flora and ran all the faster. I didn't look back, but I could tell they were gaining on me. The footsteps were getting closer with each second. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

I turned the corner sharply, and skidded into a tree. Luckily, I was never the girly girl growing up. While other 7 year olds fangirled over Justin Bieber, I had climbed trees and played football with the boys. 

In a matter of seconds, I was up the tree. I held my breath, trying not to move. Any movement would cause them to find me, not to mention I would probably fall out and die. I felt like an idiot for meddling. Draycottwas a place where if you kept your head down and minded your own business, you might live long enough to see your 21st birthday. Unfortunately for me, it seemed as though that day would never arrive.

I watched from above as they all turned the corner. It was all three of the men I had seen kill the other guy. They paused and looked around. I stayed frozen, my heart beating a tattoo in my chest. The man held the gun, looking for me. From above, I could make out his incredibly blue eyes through the holes in his ski mask.

I was afraid to even breathe, fearing it would attract their attention. It was only when they all muttered something and turned around to leave that I let out a sigh of relief. I watched them all turn the corner and disappear they way they came.

I waited 5 minutes to make sure the coast was clear before jumping down. A spasm of pain shot up my foot from the sharp impact, but I ignored it. The entire way home, all I could think about was the guy laying dead in that alley, how the blood had exploded all over when the bullet entered his body.

A run-down apartment building came into sight. My mother, Flora, and I lived all alone in the 10 housed apartment. I think our floor was the only one suitable for living, really. The other floors were abandoned and falling apart for some reason. The landlady had taken off for America a few years ago, claiming her dead husband's spirit wouldn't leave her alone. What a good life I have, huh?

It wasn't the best of a home, but it was still a place to live. I ran up the stairs quickly, huffing and puffing all the way up like a pig. I seriously needed to exercise more. The elevator had been unused for many years, and I was pretty sure it was broken. I'd rather climb up 5 flights of stairs than take my chances of falling down an elevator shaft and dying some macabre death.

I walked onto the 5th floor, our apartment. I slipped the key and went inside. The first sight that greeted me was my mother, passed out on the couch. Bottles of malt whiskey lay around her, as well as numerous cigarettes stomped out with no effort whatsoever. My mother was a thin, frail woman. Drinking had wasted away her youth, leaving her wrinkly and old-looking even if she was 34 years old. Her hair was a sick blonde, and drool dripped down the side of her mouth.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. No matter how much I begged, she refused to go into rehab. I had given up trying long ago. If she wanted to fix herself, she could do it alone. I had done my job and failed as a daughter. Not that I really cared. What's to miss if I didn't know what I was missing?

I went around the torn couch, trying to avoid making stains on the floor. I would just have to clean it all up later because there was no one else to do it. I was pretty much the grown-up around here. As long as my mother had her cigarettes and drinks, she didn't care about anything else.

Just as I was walking past Flora's room, she walked out. Her inherited blonde hair glowed against the highlights of the moon behind her. She clung to her dirty teddy bear that I had gotten for her 3rd birthday and ran towards me.

"Victoria, where have you been? I missed you." she said softly, clutching my leg like she depended on it. I let out a forced chuckle and patted her hair.

"I was out, little F." I answered, bending down to her height. She looked at me with her big, doll-like eyes, so much innocence ruined by what she had experienced in her life. It broke my heart to know that she would never live a life as good as it should be.

"Mommy was drinking her special juice." Flora whispered, as if it was some sort of secret. She called beer "special juice," a phrase I taught her to say. "She was being mean today, Vic. She hurt me. See?" my baby sister lifted up the sleeve of her sweater to show me a nasty burn on the side of her arm, surely from a lit cigarette. Tears welled up in my eyes. If I hadn't been so caught up in the library, maybe I could have stopped it from happening.

"Flora, I'm sorry." I mumbled. "She wasn't thinking clearly. Remember that story I told you about Daddy?" she nodded. "Well, she's missing him right now. He'll come back one day, but until then, Mommy is sad. I promise everything will get better, okay?"

It was pure lies I was feeding her. Our scumbag father would never come back, not in a million years. But I couldn't just look into those big, blue eyes and tell her the truth.

"Now give me a hug and go to bed."

Flora wrapped her tiny arms around my shoulders. I held her for a second and then let go. She gave me a toothy grin and clambered back into her own room after a moment. I stayed kneeling, thinking about everything that happened tonight.

It didn't take long for a headache to begin flowering up in the back of my head.

I got back up and went into my own room. I blasted music as loud as I could from my phone, trying to forget about the world. I changed into more comfortable clothes and went to bed, fighting back the tears. Senseless words and a soothing rhythm pounded in my head. I knew that what had happened tonight could never be spoken about again.

Living in Draycotthad taught me some harsh lessons, but the one thing that was worth remembering was that keeping your mouth shut could save lives. I wasn't about to put Flora's and my life in jeopardy because of a guilty conscience. After all, silence is nothing but a steel knife laying on the gravel of a dark alleyway. In Draycott, silence is golden.