"I'm going to cut out your god-damn spleen you gutter-slut scum!" The voice panted and scrabbled, "I’ll split you in two.. and gut-fuck your corpse!" His voice echoed in the darkness, "We’ll find you!" He was running, in the dark, cold slaps of feet on the slick puddle ridden concrete ricocheted from the stone and metal walls.
She ran, and they were chasing. How they’d found her she didn’t know, but the call had been made, they couldn’t stop that. She’d made it to the phone box without a problem, but they must have been following her. They had tried, but failed, to grab her almost before she’d hung up. She’d fought them off then, cutting one of them nastily with her rings, but how long could she stay ahead? The fire lancing up her legs was already too painful to ignore, the extra reserves the adrenaline had given her had been used up too far back to remember.
She thought he was somewhere near Camden - she could the dull, tepid, slosh of the canal ahead, and some kind of street market a few stories above her. No-one would hear her if she screamed. No-one would care.
South was her best bet, try and get to Kings Cross, but he wasn’t far behind, and she had a long way to go before she find somewhere she would call safe. Her skin was freezing, her clothes torn and her jacket lost. All in all, she thought miserably, things weren’t looking good.