I was born into this darkness, and in the darkness, I will die.

Here I lie, weeping out my soul on this bridge. Droplets of rain splatter against my outstretched arms. It's strange how the weather can reflect the way you're feeling inside.
The young lady and the gentleman have gone now, leaving me here to cry out my heart and soul. I pleaded with them that they would not let Fagin or Bill or my other associates come to any harm for what I have told them about Oliver. I also told them where Monks could be found. They seemed to know of the vile man, and offered me an escape from this awful life, but I could not accept.

Telling myself to become stronger, I stumble to my feet, avoiding the disparaging glances from the other people hurrying across the bridge. Even a young boy, perhaps the age of Oliver, looks at me with scorn.

I've never had a young'un before, thank God, wouldn't want 'em to be born into a world like this one. But I'd be thinking that if I did have a son, he'd be like my Oliver. It's sad to think of poor little Nolly. Ashamed I am that I brought him back to Fagin like a babe thrown to the hounds, he is a dear, sweet, innocent one. How I loathe myself for bringing him back to this hellish existence! I know now that he deserves a real chance in this life. He ain't done nothing to deserve being a pauper like the rest of us. Fagin, he trains up those young'uns to do his dirty work for him, and, my Bill is a thief like the best of them. I am...well, what needs to be said about the life that I live.

I mean it, honest, cross my heart, what I said to that lovely lady and the gentleman on the Bridge. Even as I walk to the place I call home, I can hear the words echoing in my head. I've grown to hate my old life now, but I'm chained to it- really, I am! Can't tear myself away from what I've become. What'd Bill do without me? Besides, I've done all this for little Nolly, not to get some highfalutin reward from the young lady and gentleman.

We'd be about the same age, me and that Rose, but she's so pure and innocent, never known a man for sure, and here I am, with the weight of my sins squarely on my shoulders. Where I am a child of darkness, she is a child of light. I know that she cares about Oliver too and I do hope that she and the gentleman will protect him and keep him happy and secure. She has truly been a lovely lady in her contact with me, and for that, I wish her health and safety.

A sharp sound pierces through my thoughts, as though the wind is whistling straight through the centre of my body. I look over my shoulder, but I'm alone. Even though this damp, dark London alley is empty, I feel uneasy, this night fair gives me the shakes! I know that with me a-trying to rescue Oliver, I've risked us all a trip to the gallows, Bill Sikes and Fagin particularly. They may not be morally good, but I do want their safety. As I told the gentleman at the Bridge, I can't turn upon 'em, because they haven't turned upon me, even though they could've, with all I've done wrong.

I feel a need to hurry home, to be there with Bill, to reassure myself that he's okay and that I've haven't handed him over to the hangman. In my rush, I fall upon a dislodged piece of cobblestone. The sharp whistling in my mind is louder now. I pull myself back up to my feet, lifting my already tattered skirt out of the mud.

Out from the darkness come six flickering lights, six bloodied angels shining as bright as the stars. They slip in and out of my vision, like a candle in a draughty room, and on their shoulders, the angels are carrying a coffin.

It's the same coffin I saw pass by my earlier this rainy evening. Shuddering, I pull back against the wall, deeper into the shadows and away from the spectral, menacing figures. It can't just be my imagination, it's got to be a sign, some fate written in the stars. Have I condemned Sikes to death? Is that his the body in the coffin? Or perhaps it is Fagin, or Oliver himself! Oh, I couldn't bear to live anymore if that little child had died because of something I've said to the lady and gentleman.

I've got go home. Closing my eyes tightly, I shuffle along the wall, around the corner into an even smaller alley, then break into a run. I can see the door to the rooms I share with Bill.

Hearing a crash, I freeze in my steps. Then there's the soft pattering of tiny feet as a scraggly cat darts out of the shadows. Relief floods me like this rainstorm is flooding the London streets.

I fumble with the door knob, willing myself to breathe, and the door swings open. Home at last. Bill isn't here, but I try not to be worried. He's probably with Fagin. Praying that the spectres will not return, I lay on the bed, close my eyes and try to sleep.

"Get up."

My eyes flicker open from their sleep with the voice of a man.

"It is you, Bill!" I can't help but smile, relieved, at the return of my lover.

"It is. Get up."

I lift my head, pushing my unkept, dirty, dark hair out of my eyes. Bill hurls the candle on the sideboard under the grate, plunging the room into an even deeper darkness.

The sun begins to rise, and from where I am lying on the bed, I can spy a small sliver of the sky behind the thick, linen curtain. It is painted dark red with the blood of the morning sun. I can't help but feel that this is a premonition. I rise to open the curtain, to let light flood into the room, but Sikes raises an arm to stop me.

"Let it be. There's enough light for wot I've got to do."

I was born into the darkness, and in this darkness, I will die.