She lay hurdled on the concrete floor, her long raven dark and tangled hair spread around her like an umbrella. She was in her usual corner, a place that had been home to her. She had spotted this corner the day the truck driver dropped her off five years ago. 

That darned migraine again. She should have accepted it as normal but no. Each time the pain struck it was like a new experience.  

Ouch! It hurt so bad. 

The crippling pain had drained her of strength as she laid there wishing to die. Her stomach heaved in a fit of nausea. She had not eaten for days since the pain commenced. 

Death would be better than this, she thought to herself. 

Death meant freedom from pain of all kinds. Her corpse would be found by a passerby or  police officer on patrol. 

Morbid thoughts were her constant companion whenever the headache showed up. And today was no exception. 

She lay groaning as the throbbing intensified. It was not the usual pain she could endure and she had little to no money for drugs. The sunlight beat down on  her eyes so much that opening them hurt. Her groans, intensely  agonizing, drew the attention of a passerby. But that did not stop them. They walked passed and never tried to help. No one ever did. 

She tensed as a shadow covered her face, blocking out the brightness of the sun. Opening her eyes, she squinted to see who or what had cast the shadow. 

A beautiful and angelic face with soft hazel eyes gazed at her with concern. Was she dreaming or hallucinating? Or was she dead and the face was that of an angel? No, she was not  dead because she could still feel the pain.

Who then was he? Perhaps, he wished to give me some money. Something for the headache. Did he even notice? 

Sometimes a few people would stop by to drop some coins on her lap as she sat daily in the alleys of Bradford. But this one did not drop a coin, instead, he  spoke.

“Lady, are you alright?” he asked. His voice was a soft, baritone that made her skin break out in goosebumps. It was soothing but did not ease her pain. 

What was she to say to such a beautiful and clean man? She spied him from under her lashes. 

She was a dirty homeless girl whose bed was the bare concrete floor in an alley. He was the man who smelled like Heaven’s streets, Oud with a hint of coffee.  She signed pretending to be mute.

 “Lady, can you speak?” he asked again, waving his hands at her, in a futile attempt at signing. 

His frantic efforts were comical except that the pain would not let her laugh.

Seriously, she needed to put him out of his misery right away.

“I… I can speak, sir. I’m just a little startled. I… I rarely see anyone come this way. I mean… I never get visitors,” she stammered,  her voice low and raffed. She shivered from the cold that her huge hand-me-down coat failed to protect her from.

“I can give you a warm meal in exchange for…” he trailed off, hesitating to say exactly why he was there, but she did not care.

No, she would not lie to herself. She cared. She was curious as to what exactly he had in mind.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, sir,” she muttered, squinting her eyes as the sun rays intensified.

It was supposed to be cold and dull weather. What was the reason for the sun fighting the cold? She could never understand. But she pulled her thoughts back to him.

“I have a warm place away from the cold where you can stay. And I would like to talk to you, Sheila,” he declared smoothly.

She could not help but note he called her by name.

“How do you know my name? Have we met before?” she asked, forgetting that it was not possible they met. 

Where would I meet a man like him? Someone so beautiful  knows me? Wake up Sheila! She chided herself.

He smirked. “I asked about you. But before you freeze to death, please come with me. Let me take you out of this cold.”

He extended his hand to help her stand to her feet. She did not take it. Instead, she eyed the hand suspiciously,  as if his fingers were coated in acid. She had heard of how young girls like herself were taken by the glamorous appearance of their kidnappers. They were used as playthings, owned and caged forever. So she was on high alert.

“I know you may not trust me so easily but let me earn your trust,” he stated, his eyes crinkling at the sides in humour.

“How do you plan to do that?” she asked, lips tightened in defiance, willing him to convince her he meant well.

His hazel eyes studied her for a moment then he spoke. “Just come with me and I will prove to you that I’m a man of my word” 

At that moment, she knew she had to make up her mind. Could I really and truly trust him? He promised a warm place and a meal. And aside from medicine for the headache, isn’t that what I need right now?

So she straightened and let her eyes meet his. “If you try anything funny, I will cut your balls off,” she threatened. 

He chuckled lightly, not in the least bit fazed by her threat. He offered his hand once again and she accepted as he pulled her off the ground.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try anything with you, Sheila. Your eyes are red. I hope you don’t do drugs?” he asked, his voice laced with  panic and a hint of disgust.

Sheila would have rolled her eyes at this man. How could he be prejudiced against the poor he was trying to help? A whole package of contradictions. But she needed to give him an answer.

“Never, I just have a bad headache,” she replied, using her palm to shield her eyes from the sun.

“I’m sorry for assuming. We’ll stop at a pharmacy on our way.” 

His hand reached for  her hair, gently brushing along its  length. His touch was soothing, almost as if it alone could ease the pain she felt. 

She jerked away as if stung, glaring at him. Chuckling, he opened his palm to show her the dried grass and dirt he picked from her hair.  she muttered her thanks shyly.

Sheila walked behind the stranger as he led the way to an SUV. She suspected it was his. It looked like him, clean and new. She considered how dirty her clothes were and how clean his car was. 

Wordlessly, he watched her as he opened the door to the back seat. Then he gestured for her to get in. She took a hesitant step forward, eyes gazing at the interior of the car. 

Suddenly she felt his body heat behind her. “Don’t worry I am not trying to kidnap you. If I were, I wouldn’t be coaxing you into the car. I will be dragging you in instead, probably into my booth.”

She stiffened. Was she to go back? He was caging her at the entrance of his car door. A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized there was nowhere else to go but inside. So she entered the back seat as gracefully as she could manage. 

The first thing that hit her was the  heavy scent of lavender and leather. If she were to guess how this day would play out, Sheila Cole would not have dreamed  of riding in such an expensive and fancy car. At the back sit no less.

She didn’t even realize when the car door closed the man and he sat beside her.

“Jude, take us to a  pharmacy.”

“Very well, sir.” 

In just a few minutes, they were at a pharmacy on Godwin street and were met by the pharmacist. After consulting her, she prescribed some medicines and they bought them.

“Cerlerie Hotel, Jude,” he ordered as soon as they were back in the car.

“Yes, sir,” the driver responded.

It was at that moment she realized she did not know his name. 

Clearing her throat, she turned to him. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Now you want to know? Don’t you think it’s too late? Death may await you in a few seconds,” he said casually.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes widened in shock. What did he mean by that?  

Beads of sweat were on her forehead and  trailed down her back. She was trembling not from the cold but from fear. Her mind raced through ways she could attack him and escape. But she also had to buy time.

“What do you mean?” her voice trembled.

He stared directly into her eyes. “You entered my car without asking for my name. I could be a serial killer and end you.” 

Though afraid, she refused to back down. She glared at him and held his gaze. 

He broke their stare off as Jude slowed down  turning into the hotel premises.

When Jude got down Sheila had a plan and it was simple. She would run once her feet touched the ground.  As she stepped out, lifting her head, she saw the man standing extending his hand to help her out of the car. How had he come out of the car and she didn’t know? She shook her head and placed her hand in his, he held it tightly, so tight that her small hand disappeared in his large one.

“Don’t try to run. Save that energy for what is going to happen next. You’ll need it,” he whispered maliciously.

And like a rag doll, he pulled her easily into the foyer and straight into the elevator.