TWISTED ꜜ LOUIS PARTRIDGE

⟾ 14 | LET'S BURN, BABY

LOUIS 🗡

Friday, 8:22pm

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IT'S BEEN ALMOST A WEEK, AND SHE'S BEEN GONE.

In summary, I'm not having the best time of my life right now. While I was more worried about making sure my...uh—Ash—whatever she is, was okay and not dead, William escaped. In the time that happened, he managed to convince the Higher-Ups that I went rogue, tried to help a criminal escape, and beat him up.

Unfortunately, he had the bruises to prove it.

And to add onto that misfortune, apparently the security camera footage had been tampered with, and now I can't prove my innocence. It was William's word against mine, and he had the scars.

So I'm currently on the run, trying not to get put in jail for a crime that I did not commit.

I managed to cross the London district with the help of one of my used fake-passports, and now I'm undercover in a house on the edge of Winchester. It's small, smells terrible, but it's perfect for what I need to do. Not too far from London—because I have some unfinished business to attend to.

And someone to find.

However, it seems she does not want to be found, because she still hasn't answered any of my messages and I can't find any trace of her. It was like she walked out of that cell, only to disappear from the face of Earth entirely. I wish I could say I only needed her help to survive, but I also may miss her.

No, forget I said that.

I miss the arguments and the fights, that's what I miss. The feeling of a challenge, to be specific, not the feeling of being around her—because that's just plain insufferable.

But regardless, she's not here, and she's probably halfway across the world by now. That means I'm left to fend for myself, while an unknown organization and the SIS are hot on my tails.

Fun.

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"ALRIGHT, I'LL BE HAVING NONE OF THAT," I said, shaking my head, "this fish is literally five pounds too expensive."

It's been almost two weeks now, and I'm growing oddly accustomed to my secret life in Winchester. Apart from the tudor-style that decorates nearly every building, the people are friendly, and it's easy to blend in.

However, the market-sellers are devious.

"Oi, the price is reasonable," the fish-seller haggled, waving her finger at me, "it's you city folk who think it's crazy."

I narrowed my eyes. "Twelve pounds for a fish?"

"A very good fish."

"Forget it," I sighed, tossing back the salmon, "I shan't fall for your schemes."

Considering the fact that I had no access to my bank account, was currently unemployed, and had a rent to pay, I was broke. I wasn't used to this life. I was used to extravagance and luxury, with silk bed sheets and steak for dinner—not a stingy cottage and beans.

And I'm also used to being praised for being an Agent, not on the run for being a criminal (which I'm not, by the way, I'm just being framed).

Turning on my heels, I traipsed out of the crowded market-place, ready to go back to the small living space I currently occupied. There wasn't much to do, other than watch the telly and constantly keep my eyes peeled for any sign of a missing girl, so I kept to a routine. I'd also be eating beans again—because someone tried to scam me for a fish.