From the moment I was born, my da supposed I'd been sent from hell just to annoy him...he might be right. Robert Bonney was not a rich man by any means, nor was I his and his wife's daughter. Instead I was a bastard child, born out of wedlock to Robert Bonney and his servant, Martha McCormac in Belfast. Man, did I make sure to annoy my dad with every possible chance.

When I was a wee girl, I'd been dressed up as a boy and acted as a clerk in his law firm. I messed up almost every piece of paper I could get my hands on, was that supposed to be a R? Well now its a lopsided P. It really was just a matter of time until I'd grown to old to pass off as a boy, though I'd kept the clothes and the attitude easily enough. After 14, my da moved us from Belfast and into London where he'd picked up a the trade of a merchant...until the Great War.

My mother had fallen ill when I was about 13. She just coughed at first, but then the rash and the fever started and she faded from us, by the end of it she swore up and down that I was the devil's spawn. She claimed I'd been sent to kill her and take her child away but it didn't matter how much I tried to calm her. She worked herself up into a frenzy and collapsed. She didn't come back to us after that. We buried her in a church near by and I didn't cry. I refused to cry.

Things went on as they always had, my father attempted to marry me off to a couple of blokes but they just couldn't quite make it through my temper. Life was fine until I turned 20. A few weeks after my father left for war, a letter came back from the post office.

Its funny how a little yellow bit of paper could ruin your entire life in one move, really is quite the laugh. Gangs moved in quickly, a stupid protection fee came about while I struggled to juggle the books and not go out of business at the same time.

"I don't feel very protected, mate." I glared as hard as I bloody could at the jew in front of me, and his stupid gun.

"Well you shoulda paid the fee, Anne." He shrugged, idiot. Imbecile. I hated him and his lopsided hair cut, hated him with all my gut.

"Oh, fuck you, stook. Alfie knows I don't have the cash to even keep the bloody lights on!" I hit the table next to me, shaking the years of dust I'd let build up on it along with the book I'd been attempting to read.

"Not our problem." He shrugged again.

"You know what? I'm done." I shrugged back, just as idiotically as he had.

"What?" Oh good, I'd confused him. Must have snapped the connection between his head and his thoughts then. I forced a loud bark of laughter as I began grabbing things I might be able to trade for food or something. Barely had any money but maybe that wouldn't matter?

"What're you doing, Anne? Don't be stupid." He moved quickly, attempting to stop me from opening the register when I'd made my way over there.

"I'm leaving." I deadpanned as I pushed the button to pop open the drawer with ease.

"You can't just do that. You've got a debt." Alfie's lackey tried to stop me, putting his hand over my own and gripping it.

"Do I now? Right. Take the bloody shop then." I snatched my hand away from his and grabbed as much as I possibly could from the open drawer before he could stop me.

"Anne!" He was angry now and obviously knew my name as he held the gun up to my chest. Shame I didn't know his.

"What?" I barked at him, shoving him backwards with out a second thought. He fell quickly, not expecting the shove I guess, the gun clattered to the ground and went off.

POP!

It left a decent hole in the shelvings behind the register. I didn't give a toss, wasn't my problem now, but the man trying to get the gun was my problem so I scrambled for it too. It really only took a kick to his groin for me to land hard on my knees and snatch the weapon.

"Really?" He was gasping, almost looked like he might cry as I pointed it at him. My da had taught me some but I definitely wasn't a marksman or anything. So, I just cocked it and hoped for the best in terms of aim.

"You're going to let me leave, or you're going to get shot in the leg." I declared as I stood, my legs were shaking a little more than I wanted them too.

"I can't let you leave." He was stubborn, I'll give him that. It wasn't going to help him much though, I was too determined to leave with all of my limbs in tact and zero holes in me.

"I think you can." I sighed, with my back getting closer and closer to the door. He shook his head, I almost wanted to laugh but the bloody moron jumped at me and I panicked.

BANG!

"Oh my god." My mouth dropped open right as his body dropped to the floor. He gasped for a second, attempting to clutch the wound in his back but he couldn't reach it. Blood flowed steadily out of it, seeping into the white of his shirt as I forced myself to keep backing up.

He was mumbling but I didn't hear him over the sound of my own heartbeat running at a thousand beats per minute. I'd killed a man, well not quite but I sure as hell wasn't about to run for help. He'd never make it out of here. Good god, what have I done?

"Ah!" He reached for my ankle right as I jerked it out of his reach in surprise. I began shaking my head, not really sure of what I wanted to do anymore. I needed to leave...Leave, Anne! Now! Now is the time to go!

"I'm sorry." I mumbled mainly to myself as he stopped moving, his body jerked a bit but he didn't speak anymore and I couldn't see him breathing throughout the blood puddle draining out of him. I didn't know people bled like a stuck pig, I mean why would I know that? Have I even ever had a stuck pig? Leave, Anne!

The bell rang out behind me as I dashed out of the door and shoved the gun into my bag, I was running for a train. Any train really, I'd pick out the one that was coming the soonest and I'd get the hell out of here.

I did my best to avoid any particularly jewish looking men or women but its not as though they had a bloody sign above their head that read out "ALFIE'S FOLLOWER" or something. It wasn't like there was a particular trait like all Jewish men wore red socks, well that wouldn't even help. I'd have to go around asking to see every one's socks.

"Where to, Miss?" I squinted at the man behind his desk, he looked decent enough. Shaved and properly dressed with the adage of an oddly coloured stain on his sleeve.

"Whens the next train?" I raised a brow. I didn't actually care where I went. I just wanted to leave London while I could.

"Uh, five minutes." He seemed confused by my questioning. Whatever. He could be confused, he could even report back to Alfie if he wanted, but I'd be gone by then.

"Terrific. I'll take that one." I declared abruptly as I slammed a couple of coins on the desk in front of him.

"But its to Birmingham, Miss. Is that wh-" He didn't move to take the money, still confused by my request.

"Don't care. One ticket to Birmingham." I cut him off quickly, tapping the desk out of a nervous habit. He eventually nodded, taking the money and sliding me a piece of paper slowly. I didn't want any questions and he got that finally. I rushed off in search of the platform with little regard as to where I was going, I just kept checking to see who was behind me. I'd killed a man and I didn't want to be killed today. I'm only 27, I'm pretty sure that I could get on for another decade.

I don't think I've ever had a more stressful train ride before in my entire life. It didn't help that I knew fuck-all about Birmingham either, I just sort of wandered until I came up to the decrepit side of town, black ash covered everything and men lumbered about with little hope in their eyes. Depressing but I had a feeling that they'd ask less questions...probably because they felt all of life was meaningless.

All the better for me, I say! I wandered around the town, avoiding people left and right. I was starting to lose the nervousness and pick up some sadness just being around these people. I hated being around sad people, sad drunks included.

"Do it!" A man was laughing loudly as I heard the smashing of a glass bottle. I peeked around the corner to find a pub of some sort that had a crowd of men in front of it, chuckling in a drunken fashion. Perfect. Less questions and I'm sure I had enough determination left in me to ask for a job or a place to live. I pushed past the men with all of zero interest in them despite the leering glances.

All at once I found myself in a smokey and loud room that was dimly lit. An overwhelmed man that was balding stood behind the bar, darting about as he tried to fill several orders at once. I forced my way to the bar, waiting for him to notice me. It didn't take long for the men at the bar to notice me, an off-putting silence enveloped them with only the action of taking another puff of a cigarette or a sip of alcohol.

"What can I do for you?" The bar keep finally noticed me as I glanced back at him, remembering why I was here.

"A job or a place to sleep would be great." I nodded, forcing myself not to giggle at how taken-aback he was.

"Uh, I don't thin-" He started, shaking his head as he dropped back down for another glass.

"Give her a job, Harry." A crisp voice sounded off next to me, startling me slightly. I eyed the man next to me, clean shaven and casually smoking a cigarette with an elbow on the bar. He was nicely dressed though modestly so.

"Uhm. Well...do you even have any experience in working?" When I looked back at Harry, I found him attempting to look me up and down with little success thanks to the bar between us.

"Yeah, I used to run a shop." I nodded, wondering how much I should actually tell this lot.

"Right...you can balance books then?" He nodded slowly, moving back to fill up the glass at the sound of another man grumbling.

"Yeah. I can also fill a cup with beer, mate. Its not that hard." I scoffed, figuring he just wanted me to stay in the back and write all day. I was tired of that, I wanted to do some thing else for a bit.

"Right. You're hired then, starting now. Clean up the tables and get people's order..." He trailed off, peering at me for a second until I realised I might need to tell him a name to call me by.

"Anne...Cormac." I answered what I thought to be his question. He nodded quickly now, sliding the glass down to the man that had been irritable before.

"Clean the tables and fill orders, Anne." He gave me my orders as I set about doing so in a rushed fashion. I still carried my bag with me, not trusting any of the bar's patrons, down on their luck people had a tendency to pinch things.