When Ellie woke up the next morning and saw that it was 10:43am, she shot up from the bed, annoyed with herself. She had planned to leave fourty three minutes ago. Her first independent decision on this new day and she had slept right through it. By the time she had showered, dressed, drank a coffee and ate some breakfast (which the owner of the B&B, a sweet, old lady with spectacularly large earrings, had kindly cooked for Ellie despite her missing the 9am breakfast), it was almost noon.
When noon did arrive, Ellie was finally on the road.
Now that she had woken up properly, her mood lifted. She felt oddly optimistic. She embraced the feeling and was soon heading down the motorway, blasting music from her phone, and piping out the vocals confident that no-one could hear her.
The exhilaration got her through an hour of her trip, until her throat started to get sore, so instead she headed for the nearest service station, bought a drink, double-checked her location to make sure she was heading in the right direction, and then set off again, with the music now playing quietly.
The trip was bland and boring, with scenery not changing very much as she travelled. Her mind started to wander. For the first time that day, a trickle of fear ran down her spine. She was a licensed driver and she had her license with her, but this was not her car. And it wasn’t exactly running well. What if she broke down, and the police arrived, and did a check on the car?
If you worry, you suffer twice.
The idiom often popped into her head; she was sure her mother had said it to her a lot as a child, but as she was getting older, memories of her mother became more distant, so that she wasn’t sure what was true and what her young mind had just made up. Still, it was a piece of advice she found great comfort in.
Ellie wondered what her mother was doing now. She had moved to England, but where? Maybe London, but maybe fifty other places. Was she alright? Happily married? Maybe with some more kids? Or had she gone down the same path as Dad? An alcoholic, or worse, a drug addict.
For all she knew, her mother could be dead.
The morbid thought swamped Ellie for a moment and she found herself breaking out of her thoughts and hyper focusing on driving. After checking her progress on the GPS (and noticing her battery was running low), Ellie decided to stop at the next service station, which was about twenty minutes away.
But what if her mother was in London?
The thought creeped back into her head unexpectedly. Was this why she was so drawn to London? Was she experiencing some kind of spiritual connection to where her mother was—not that she particularly believed in that stuff—or had her mother perhaps mentioned she was moving to London and she had only subconsciously remembered?
I don’t want to see her anyway.
After all, she could forgive her mother many things; the countless screaming arguments that woke her up at night, and even the fact that she left her Dad for another man. But she could not forgive her mother for abandoning her. In a way, she knew even when her mother had promised her that she would visit often, that she had lost her forever. The two visits she did get felt almost like a goodbye and Ellie, at the age of seven, couldn’t really comprehend much other than a sense of loss.
Nineteen year old Ellie couldn’t comprehend it much more; in some ways, it was like her mother had died.
Taking a slight turn into the road leading to the service station, Ellie forced herself to stop thinking about things that made her miserable and focus on the music instead. As Arctic Monkeys entertained her, she pulled into a parking space.
Her phone battery was now on 13% so Ellie pulled out a power bank from her bag. Grateful for remembering to bring it, she let some tension lift from her shoulder as the battery creeped up to 14%.
Checking the time, Ellie saw that it was 3.30pm. She was about two hours away from London, she estimated, and figured she could arrive by six at the latest, and find a B&B to stay at with the last of her money.
Being conscious of her money, she bought the cheapest drink at the service station, a bottle of flavoured water that was £1.09, and decided that the snacks in her rucksack (crisps, chocolate and a half-eaten sausage roll) would suffice.
Having stretched her legs and having no intention of spending anymore money, she headed back to the dusty, old truck. As she sat back down, Ellie picked up her phone (now sitting at 34% battery) and read her new notifications.
1 new message
Ellie clicked the text message open.
From: Sophie
Is it really true you quit? Sooo sad we never got to say goodbye! I’m going to miss you! Give me a text sometime, we’ll have a catch up hun xx
Ellie liked Sophie, and she knew she meant well, but she doubted Sophie was going to miss her that much, given they’d known each other less than a month and hadn’t gotten particularly close.
Yeah, I quit. Sorry I couldn’t say goodbye! And I’m actually leaving Scotland for a bit, it’s to do with my new job. That’s why I left. But they needed someone immediately so I had to go on short notice. Next time I’m back in Stonecoe I’ll give you a text xo
Feeling like it was polite enough, Ellie sent the message. The truth was, she had no idea when the next time she would be in Stonecoe was, nor if she would ever go back there.
The second half of the journey went significantly faster. Around four o’clock, the sky started darkening. This, if nothing else, gave Ellie a new landscape to look at as she travelled miles of motorway and outskirts of towns and cities. When she finally arrived at London, she was only six minutes past her estimated time of 5.30pm and suddenly felt exhilarated.
The architecture was stark. From close up to far in the distance, Ellie saw all sorts of tall buildings and towering shapes. Compared to the small town of Stonecoe, it was like another world.
When she finally arrived in Soho, she found a nearby airBnB (small studio apartment above a takeaway) which was within budget. She was particularly impressed with the promise of free parking and headed for it. The streets became more layered and complicated, until Ellie found not getting lost a daunting prospect. It was dark now, and she wanted to be inside on her first night in a strange city.
Eventually, she turned into a street and recognised the design of the takeaway shop from the website she had found it on. Suddenly excited to have made some progress, she drove down the street and saw that the takeaway in question had a side road leading to a car park beside it. After seeing the “Parking” painted on the wall, she turned into the side road, which was narrow and wedged between the takeaway on one side and a large wall on the other side. Then, it opened up on the other side to a walled car park, with eight spaces. Five of them were already filled, so Ellie took one in the emptier second row and parked.
Walking back out and around to the front was as simple as going through a footpath on the other side of the takeaway. She stared at the building. The bright, orange sign of the takeaway stood above the shop with a small apartment directly above that. Yellow letters spelled out LFC with a subtitle of London Fried Chicken underneath.
Wonder how long it took them to come up with that.
She entered the brightly lit and colourful takeaway, with pristine white tables and gaudy, yellow padded seats.
“What can I get you, love?” said the dark-skinned man behind the counter. He was young and handsome, probably in his mid-20s.
“Um… I was hoping to speak to Pav about the room upstairs?”
“Ah yes, he did mention someone would be coming in. Hang on,” the man replied, then he turned and shouted back into the kitchen “Pav!”
A few moments later, a portly, balding, older man came from the kitchen. His apron was stained in grease and ketchup. He took it off and threw it under the counter, before washing his hands at the sink, drying them, and then leaning over the counter, offering his hand. Ellie took it.
“Pav Sharma, nice to meet you.”
His voice was higher than Ellie had expected. She thought he would probably want to see ID and so she would have to use her real name, despite the risk. Right now, she wanted to be inside and safe.
“Ellie Adams, nice to meet you too.”
Pav talked her through the fees and took payment, before taking Ellie through a side door, which led to some stairs going to the upper floor.
“The room you are staying in has the red door. Here’s the key,” Patel handed it to her, “The bathroom is on the opposite side of the hall to your door.”
“Thanks very much,” Ellie took the key.
“Any problems, speak to Dev. His room is the blue door. We close at 2am. You can use the door at the bottom of the stairs to get out.”
“I won’t be going anywhere, don’t worry.”
Pav chuckled.
“Sleep well, then.”
Pav headed back down the stairs. Ellie walked the rest of the stairs and put the key in the red door, opening her room.
It was a small but nicely decorated room. There was a king size bed, a TV, alarm clock, lamp and small desk with a wooden chair. Ellie turned the light on to see the deep red and cream decor.
Like the B&B in Filkin, it was a hundred times better than her bedroom.
By 8pm, after Ellie had showered and eaten (she had tried to buy food from downstairs, but Dev insisted it was on the house), she settled into the bed.
Dread washed over her; she knew this was her last night of certainty and luxury. She couldn’t afford to stay another night and she had no idea what she was going to do when she was forced to leave at 4pm the next day.
If you worry, you suffer twice.
Ellie repeated the mantra in her head a few times. Then, she turned the TV on and found that she had full access to Netflix. She scrolled through the offerings and almost settled on The Umbrella Academy. She knew it was about superpowers and part of her couldn’t help but laugh at this apparent fantasy being her real life.
Then she realised how stupid it was to call them superpowers and decided not to torture herself with such a programme. Instead she decided on easy comedy and put Brooklyn Nine-Nine on autoplay.
She watched two full episodes before she started to fall asleep. She never found out who was behind the crime in the third episode and dreamed that night of police officers doing stand up comedy about traffic stops.
Walking through the streets of Soho the next morning, deciding it was the best way to clear her head from the morning grog, Ellie found herself obsessing over how exactly she would spend her last £23.60.
There was no way she could afford a place to stay, so she would have to find a place to park the truck and use it as a makeshift B&B. She noted to herself that she would also have to get food, and considered whether to go to a supermarket to get food for multiple days. An argument with herself broke out again.
And you also have to figure out why the hell you’re even IN London at all.
Can’t go home now.
Maybe back to Fiklin or something?
No. Here now. Make the most of it.
Most of what? Sleeping in a truck in London at night?
This argument with herself continued and distracted her, even with the music playing in her earphones.
A bigger part of her than she wanted to admit to herself felt like a fool for making this journey across the country with no plan or resources; and to know ahead of time she would be stuck, and to still not have come up with a solution in the meantime.
OK, focus. Have a look around. There’s gotta be charities to house the homeless right?
Have I resorted to that already?
Ellie walked through street after street in a blur, not taking in her surroundings, or focusing on where she was going. After taking a corner and arriving in a busy street, she came to her senses a little.
Where am I?
She checked her battery. 28%.
Shit.
She needed to make it back to the B&B and for that she needed to use her GPS app, which would eat her battery quicker than she could eat a proper breakfast right now.
She turned to rush back the way she came, as a fresh-faced, curly haired young man shuffled out of the way of her path, looking shocked at her stampeding nature.
She found herself in a repeated pattern of looking at the route back and comparing street signs while also obsessively checking the battery. 17%. Take a right here. 12%. This left. 5%. Right here and the third left. The battery died.
Grateful she was able to memorise the rest of the route, ten minutes later Ellie was back in her room. She charged her phone and her power bank. Going for a walk was a stupid idea. She needed to be in this room, taking advantage of all the services, until 4pm.
Get your head on straight, lass.
Ellie hunkered down, picking up her charging phone and connecting to the Wi-Fi, before searching for “homeless beds london”. The top result was an organization called Shelter From The Storm. A homeless facility that housed and fed thirty eight homeless people a night. She noticed the part that said they accept “anyone, no matter where they come from” in the mission statement, but also realised that her chances of getting one of those coveted thirty eight spots were slim. She clicked the Contact page anyway and saw there were text fields for her name, email and message.
She didn’t see a contact number, but she did notice another section called “Volunteer”.
Maybe if she volunteered for a few hours, she could get a spot? She wasn’t sure how it worked exactly but bookmarked the page so she could revisit it later.
It was Tuesday, and Ellie knew there would be football matches on. Maybe she could make a bet at a local bookies? If she could double her money, she could at least get a room for the night. But after browsing the fixtures for a moment, her confidence waned.
Like I know who’s going to score between Brentford and Burnley.
Could try my luck on the fruit machine.
May as well put your money in the toilet, then.
Frustration mounted as Ellie’s inner voice instantly found holes in all her ideas. She picked up and put down her phone several times in the next few minutes, not really knowing what she was doing.
This is ridiculous! Look at what I can do! I must be able to do something with it.
Unless you want to hover sausage rolls out of Greggs, or get a private, unrivaled tour of Buckingham Palace, I don’t think it’s going to help you much.
An idea struck Ellie.
She had four hours before she needed to leave. With her newfound ability, she could explore the entirety of London, without needing to leav the room she was sitting in.
World-record brains on you today, numptie.
Ellie headed out of her room, while lying comfortably on the bed. Not as familiar with London, she decided not to rush through the streets as before. Instead, she drifted through the door to her room, down the stairs and outside.
On the opposite side of the road, obscured by a parked red car was a young man with curly hair, half-covered by a hood. He was sitting on a knee-high wall, taking a gulp of Pepsi as he stared over at the takeaway Ellie was staying in.
He was doing nothing that could be considered suspicious, but Ellie had an uneasy feeling creep up her back. Where did she recognise him from? Had she seen him earlier?
She turned on the spot and waded down the street. First of all, she wanted to see if she could find the Shelter From The Storm and take a look at it. She knew it was in Upper Holloway and she knew that was about five miles away, because she had checked moments before. In this form however, she didn’t have a phone to keep checking, so soon she found herself lost.
She eventually found Upper Holloway but had no idea how to find the charity. The address was not specifically available online and she hadn’t yet sent any message to the charity… A growing distraction in Ellie’s mind became too big to ignore.
That boy.
She had subconsciously had him on her mind the whole time and it soon came to her as she headed back towards the room she was in that she had indeed seen him earlier, when she nearly crashed into him rushing back to the airbnb.
That realisation creeped her out.
Had he followed her back? Why was he just sitting outside the takeaway?
You’re being paranoid. You weren’t that far from the airbnb. Maybe he just lives in the area.
Ellie told herself all this in an attempt to calm her nerves, but when she arrived back on the street she found the boy still sitting on the wall, his bottle of Pepsi now sitting empty beside him. He was scrolling on his phone and Ellie approached him from behind, trying to get a view of what he was doing.
The sun glared against the screen, making it difficult for Ellie to see the part of the screen that wasn’t already cupped by the boy’s hand. Sighing to herself, she opened her eyes back up to her room. Discreetly looking through the cracks in her curtain, she looked down at the boy.
She jumped a little when she realised he was looking back towards the building again and more specifically up at her room.
What the hell is going on?
You’re being paranoid.
Am I, though? He looked right at me!
Well, you either hide here or confront him.
Best make sure he is actually following me before I do that.
Now, you want him to follow you? Weird girl.
Ellie stopped arguing with herself and flung on her coat. She had a plan and she was determined to see it out. A knot tied in her chest as she put her phone and her purse in her handbag.
She had considered getting in the truck, but knew she would have to walk. If he really is following her, she would know pretty quickly. Then, she could… do something. She hadn’t figured that out yet…
But she was here, in London. She had done it herself; escaped a world of walking on eggshells and living in fear. Ellie refused to go back to that world.
Ellie stepped out on the street, the sky now overcast. Careful not to look directly at the boy and give the game away, she turned onto the pavement and started walking away, catching only a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision.
Knowing she couldn’t just look back and see if he was following, she was at first unsure if he had even noticed her leaving. But then, when a car beeped down the street, Ellie instinctively snapped her head around and, with a strange jolt of horror, found the boy following her about twenty yards away.
She snapped back around to look where she was going, her heart now pumping faster as she walked. She took some deep breaths as she walked
So I’m not being paranoid. Now what?
Gotta get the upper hand somehow.
Ellie picked up her pace and turned a corner. For a few seconds she ran, then stopped. When the boy did join her on the new road, he was even further behind. Ellie turned the next left and repeated the process. Now the boy was about fifty yards away.
As she walked, Ellie noticed a closed-in estate at the end of the road and across a small field. What intrigued her specifically was an old building, brown and rusting, mostly made from metal and clearly unused for years.
Now finding herself with a real plan, she quickened her pace further. She didn’t even care if the boy saw her running now; she wanted him to follow her.
She would arrive at the warehouse, find a good hiding place and then use her abilities to confront him. As she half-ran across the field, she noticed the rusty door was padlocked shut. She scanned the wall and found a rip in part of the wall. It was jagged and sharp, and far too small for Ellie to fit through.
Frustrated, she threw her arms forward. While she had hoped something would happen, what did happen stunned her regardless. The metal wall expanded on impact, with an ear-bursting metallic roar, as if some invisible fist had punched through it, widening the tear in the wall and curving over the sharp edges.
Not having time to take in what she had just done, she entered the larger hole into the dark building. The daylight lit up some of the place through the hole but Ellie couldn’t make out much of her surroundings. She found a pillar with a good view of the hole in the wall and hid behind it.
Any second now, that boy will come through.
Or he won’t, because you imagined it all.
No way, he followed me several streets.
Well, he’s not here, is –
She gasped out loud when he entered the building. His silhouette was lacking features due to the light surrounding him from outside. Before he had a chance to look for her, Ellie waved her hand which launched a rusty tin in the air. The boy avoided the tin but lost his balance and tripped.
He oofed as he fell and Ellie jumped out from behind the pillar, trying to sound as threatening as possible.
“You’ve been following me and you’re gonna tell me why!” she shrieked.
She scared herself with how manic she sounded, especially with the echo of the warehouse, so she figured it would hopefully scare the boy too.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
© 2026 Rhys Clark. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, including scraping for AI training or large language models, without the prior written permission of the author.
Writing by Rhys Clark 