Prologue

They say that running away is bad, that you should face your fears
instead of cowardly neglecting them.

Because no matter how long it has been, no matter where you are or
how much you have changed, one way or another it will eventually all
catch up with you.

And when it does, oh, you better pray that you are prepared.
Because no shelter, no shield, no barrier that you have built, no one...
Not even yourself, will be able to protect you from what you are about to
face.

And when it defeats you, because yes it will. When you fall down to your
knees, completely helpless, you will have no other choice than to give in
and surrender to its mercy.

Chapter 1
“Fallon.. Fallon ready or not, here I come!” I hear a female voice call out
in a mellifluous way, followed by some giggles. At first I thought it must
be children playing hide and seek while waiting for their parents to
collect their luggage.

But as I got nearer and nearer to the voice, I realised that it was the
voice of a young woman aged 18, tops 20 years old. I havenʼt seen the
toddler yet, but judging by her outfit that was way too revealing and
teenage like, followed by her baby face, I figured that she definitely
looked too young to be itʼs mother.

Yet I was quickly wronged seconds after, when a little red haired girl
revealed herself behind one of the airport benches, and jumped into the
womanʼs arms with happy eyes and a huge smile exposing her growing
milk teeth. “Mummy, mummy! Can we play red light, green light now?”
“No sweetie, we have to get going” The woman replied, gathering their
stuff and dragging the girl away.
I watch them as they disappear into the crowd and wonder if they were
waiting to take off or if they have just landed in the UK, having left
everything they have ever known behind, with the hope of a fresh start,
just like me. Just like many before me and many who will come after me.

* * *
“Just one luggage maʼam?” Asked the chauffeur. I did not bring much
with me, because there was not much I wanted to take into this new life I
was creating for myself. “Yes, just one” I replied firmly. “Very well!” He
said, glancing at me as if I was his typical everyday client who just came
back from a business trip rather than the immigrant that I am.

Some would call what Iʼm doing running away, but I would disagree
because running away makes you a coward. And I think it demands
great strength to leave everything and everyone behind with words left
unsaid, without goodbyes or tears being shed. Because in doing so,
each day becomes a battlefield between listening to your heart by doing
what you know is right or listening to your mind who almost always acts
in your best interest.

I looked through the window and stared at the sky filled with soft puffs
of clouds that cloaked the glory of the pink sun. It was almost dawn and
people were exiting the huge corporate buildings in their corporate wear
calling a cab to go home. Others were casually walking on the streets,
some were running errands or going out to dine in the most exquisite
restaurants, wearing the finest of clothing.

“Weʼve arrived at The Montcalm Royal London House maʼam”, the

chauffeur said, helping me out of the car and handing me my luggage.
According to their website and google maps, it was situated in the heart
of London, right next to Finsbury Square Garden and a short walk from
Liverpool Street.

The hotel resembled a chateau and was breathtakingly beautiful and

very spacious with a rooftop featuring spectacular views of the city, a
swimming pool, a luxurious spa and also offered airport shuttles like the
one I came in.

I walked into the hotel and made my way to the reception, where a
middle aged woman was seated. “How may I help you?”, she asked with
beaming eyes. “Iʼm here to book a room for a couple of days” I replied,
feeling the exhaustion from my 12 hour flight finally creeping up on me.

She checked on her computer for any available rooms and said, “That
would be room 492 on the sixth floor.” “Oh sorry, itʼs on the seventh
floor.” She said a bit embarrassed. “Iʼm new here, I am actually from
Jamaica..” This explains her thick accent and her clothes which are
certainly too bright for London. “Iʼm still getting used to everything.” She
added, feeling compelled to explain herself to me. “No worries, to err is
human” I say, reassuring her. At this point, I donʼt care which room I get,
be it sixth or seventh floor, all I want is to enter one of the hotel rooms
and pass out on the bed, sleeping with my clothes on, only caring to
shake my heels off.

“And under what name must I register you on?” The receptionist asked. I
took a deep breath in as I thought about what it took me to be here, and
how it was my dream to be standing right in front of her in this very
hotel, a place where no one knows my name, a place I could reinvent
myself.

I closed my eyes for a second and cherished the sense of pride I felt
earlier when the chauffeur had mistaken me for a local just a few
minutes after my arrival on the British land, making me feel a sense of
belonging. I thought about all the great opportunities London would
offer me and the things I would do here, things as simple as taking the
famous double-decker bus.

“Miss”, I heard the receptionist say, bursting my bubble of thoughts.

“What is your name Miss?” I stared at her blankly, as the image of the
little red haired girl being dragged away by her mother at the airport,
appeared in my mind. I wondered about her and what she would
become one day, I weighed on the struggles her mother would face
raising her, when she herself is still a child. And I pondered on all the
other women who came to London as little as that red haired girl, as
young as her mother and as old as this middle aged receptionist, with
the hope of a new beginning, a chance to start over.

“Fallon..” I finally muttered, “My name is Fallon Redlight”.

“I hope you have a lovely stay Ms Redlight, your room will be on the 3rd
floor, room number 38.” I took grabbed the room card she handed me,
entered the elevator, slid the the room card the receptionist gave me
and pushed open the door and collapsed on the bed, finally feeling the
fatigue of the 12 hour flight and everything it took me to get here.
Description of UK
The double-decker buses in London were so amazing
From the altitude of Big Ben, from those clockwork hands, every aspect
of London is laid bare. London always was both the wide avenues and
the backstreets, those whom wore the finest clothing and those whom
wove the thread.

Iʼm looking out my dorm window now, at the lights on the London Eye,
and just thinking about how lucky I am to be here. I keep waiting to wake
up, really. Everything just feels so surreal.
And I love it.an
I love the rush of people, the busses and cars honking at each other, the
smells of fried food as you walk past street stands, even the ache in my
legs that comes from walking way more than Iʼm used to.the
I can definitely see myself living here for three years. Iʼm going to miss
this place already.

The serene skies filled with soft puffs of clouds that cloak the glory of
the majestic sun. The gorgeous trees slumping with the burden of
saying goodbye to the leaves that held onto them for three seasons.

London may not be the wettest place on Earth but it's weather is still
quite fickle. You can set out of the house armed with an umbrella and a
raincoat after a peek at the weather forecast and return home without a
drop of rain.
But when you decide to leave in your new pair of sunglasses and
expensive heels, relying again on your trustee weather forecast, you will
come home a drenched, sloppy mess from the sudden rainstorm that hit
you.
Weather in London has a mind of its own. You might wake up to a chilly
breeze and dark clouds, only to find that it's pouring buckets when you
exit the train station.
And by the time you are finished with the quick task that you had to do,
you will be greeted by the glaring sun. The Sun that the clouds will
magically conceal just a while later.

London is historical. London takes a leap into the future with

advanced technology every step of the way but it never forgets
its roots in the past.

London is the past, the present, and the future; all in one.

Corporate buildings, businessmen, wishing to be a ceo, etc etc

and cell phones ringing. Itʼs late in the afternoon,

TSA agents are proudly dressed wearing their newly dry cleaned cobalt
blue uniforms. A meticulously sewn on patch with our Nationʼs flag and
a magnificent eagle catches my eye, displaying a proud workforce and a
dutiful employee.
The clouds turn grey and the rain starts pouring, flooding the road.
People are running back and forth, opening their umbrellas while
rushing to the bus station to catch their buses. Others are covering their
heads with their hand, seeking for shelter. And some just don't care and
resign themselves to the inevitable, being drenched from head to toe.

I'm sitting in the car, but Iʼm imagine myself on other side of the road
among those people. Being soaked in rain, wishing that it could, like the
road, flood my body and fill up the void Iʼm feeling inside.

A void I never really understood why was there.