Chapter Text
"I can't-I can't do it anymore," Flora panted for breath, door slamming behind her as she rushed into her apartment. Her shaking hands fumbled for the lock, clicking within a split second of the door slamming and not even two seconds later did the door knob move.. "I need help." She mumbled to herself in a panicked whisper, pressing her back against the door when a single knock sounded.
"You know we'll just come back later, Flora."
God she hated every single one of their voices. The Kitchen Irish. Members from it, at least. They'd been trailing her all the way from Manhattan for a month now after she witnessed something she really fuckin' wish she hadn't. She could only assume it started as a drug deal gone bad.. Or maybe they'd killed him because he had no money to give up in a robbery. But now after so much time had passed she was starting to believe that it was just a kill for sport. They'd probably just been bored and found that man sitting alone and defenseless in that alley then decided to entertain themselves with him in gruesome ways.
Flora hadn't seen the entire thing, just the ending. She knew it was the end because the man's wet gargling stopped echoing in the alleyway and the only thing that was louder than their panting was her heart pounding in her ears. A part of her felt like they'd heard it too, and that's what made them all turn to stare at the woman at the end of the alley.
That was the first time that she ever felt afraid for her life. One month later, the fear still ran through her veins every time she saw that same group of men that'd nearly killed her that day. She tried to move away, tried to get her apartment under a false name so they couldn't find her and still... Today, they found her again after nearly an entire week of silence.
Footsteps started to sound, moving away from her door after an entire minute of her not answering them. When she couldn't hear them anymore, Flora let out a shaky breath that blew her curls up out of her face as her shoulders fell and she slowly fell to her ass with her back still pressed to the door. With shaking hands, she dug her phone from the pocket of her sweater and went to her favorite contact, her best friend Ginger. Reluctant as ever her finger hovered over the call button for a few seconds, her bottom lip quivering from all the adrenaline of running for her life starting to die down already.
Ginger always knew what to do.. Always. She'd been the one to suggest the apartment under a false name, she knew all about keeping hidden after the things she'd been through... Gulping down her nerves, Flora pressed call and clenched her eyes shut as the phone rang. Praying to evey God that would listen that Ginge wouldn't be busy, that she'd answer within the first few rings and have a damn solution for this fucked up problem.
"Hey, Flora, what's up?"
Her prayers were answered for the first time in her life, Ginger's voice sounded chirpy as ever on the other end of the line. "Gingey," Flora couldn't help the whiney sob that came from her so she tried to slap a hand over her mouth to stop another one from escaping. She tried to take a few deep breaths to calm her nerves but her lungs felt like they were burning from the running she'd done. "They found me again, Gingey. I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I don't know what to do, Gingey!" Flora cried desperately, voice trembling just like she was.
On the other end of the line she heard Ginger excuse herself to walk away, even through her whimpers she could hear the heels that she always wore clicking with every step she was taking. "How the fuck did they find you? You used a fake name, right?" Ginger hissed, anger already brewing in her tone.
"I don't know! One of them saw me at the market and they followed me home! They're gonna kill me, Ginger!"Flora finally gained some strength to push herself off the ground and into her kitchen, that's where all the reasonable weapons were. Like knives. "They-They already walked away from my door but they said they'd come back, I know they're gonna come back!"
"Your door is locked, isn't it?" Ginger's voice became calm, almost eerily calm to Flora. So eerie, she nodded instead of answering verbally forgetting that she couldn't even be seen. "I'm assuming you locked it. Now.. I'm gonna send you a number to call. I just texted them so they're expecting you, okay?" Her voice took on a gentle tone, only soft after hearing her best friend's sniffle through the speaker as she spoke. "When they answer you say that you're Ginger's best friend and that Ginger's using a favor on you. Okay?"
"What does that even mean? Are we-Are we speaking in code right now?" Flora whispered incredulously, with a kitchen knife now in hand she went on to pace in her living room, eyes trained on the door.
"Just do what I tell you. Trust me.. Like you always do."
"O-Okay." Flora agreed. The phone beeped in her ear signalling that Ginger hung up, leaving Flora alone once again... Her hands flew to her hair, digging into the curls to tug at the strands and give her some grounding, because in all honesty she was freaking the fuck out. So much that she'd forgotten about the knife in her hand and nearly cut herself on the arm
Every second spent waiting felt like a second too long, waiting for her phone to chime with a message from Ginger.. When it did, it was an entire two minutes later. Her phone dinged with a message and just like she'd hoped, it was Ginger's name at the top of the screen. She immediately opened the message, brows furrowing at the contact that'd been shared with her. 'Frank Castle' A name she'd only heard Ginger mentioning in passing. 'Call now' was the message under the contact. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she added the contact to her phone and called.
Surprisingly, they picked up faster than Ginger had.
'What.'
Oh God, how was she supposed to get from someone who sounded like the damn devil over the phone? The voice was deep, snappy and god dammit did they sound more annoyed than she could ever hope for. "H-Hello," She tried to clear her throat to stop it from shaking so much it only ended up coughing out, her pacing paused at her coffee table just so she could toss the knife down onto it and cough into her hand. It clambered loudly against the old wood, making her cringe and glance at the door between coughs... As if the noise would attract them back to her door somehow. "This is Ginger's friend. She wants to use a favor on me-for me.. I don't-I don't know how to talk in code."
'You're the flower girl, she told me 'bout you.' The voice chimed in over the phone, not even sounding the least bit interested about how afraid she sounded. 'What kinda shit did you get yerself into?'
She could've scoffed at the question, she really wanted to. She didn't get herself into anything, she got dragged into that shit literally and figuratively. "I didn't do anything. I saw something I shouldn't have and they don't want me to rat." She started to explain, breath catching with every few words. "It went down in Manhattan, they only let me go 'cause I begged... the one guy, Richard I think his name is, he just wanted blood. I-I listened to Ginger and got out of Manhattan the first chance I got but I guess I couldn't get far enough."
The words were damn near mixing together at the end with how fast she was rambling, her accent probably didn't make her any easier to understand either. He didn't interrupt her though, didn't ask her to repeat anything either.. She only knew he was there because she heard the sound of fabric shifting like he'd moved.
"It was quiet for just a week... The bruises didn't even heal yet."
'Bruises, huh,' The man, Frank, hummed over the phone. Finally he was starting to show some interest in the conversation now that he was being fed information. 'You know who yer dealin' with or do I gotta figure that shit out on my own when I get there?'
"G-Get where?"
'Answer the question, flower girl.'
"Oh uh, the uh- it's The Kitchen Irish.." She trailed off, face twisted with a grimace as she braced herself to hear the click of a phone and a dial tone from him hanging up. She'd braced herself for no reason, Frank didn't seem phased by the gang name.
There was no sharp intake of breath hearing the name like she usually did. To her that meant two things, either this guy had no fuckin' clue who they were so he didn't care or he knew... he knew and he wasn't phased. She wasn't even sure how the guy was supposed to help her, how anyone was supposed to help her if she couldn't even turn to the police? Even if she tried to go to them, they'd just tell her she didn't have enough evidence or some shit. She'd already been warned that they had their corrupt officers ready to cover up for them if need be.
She couldn't even go to the hospital when she'd gotten jumped by them because she knew they'd just ask questions, which is probably why her body still hadn't healed properly. Her once swollen black eye was down to its normal size with some yellow and purplish discoloration, her bruised ribs only hurt when she lifted heavy things or if she breathed too hard.. Like now. 'Those scumbags still runnin' around? Alright,' She heard him let out a disgruntled sigh that mixed with a groan, probably from him standing up or something. Then, she heard the sounds of metal clicking.. 'Sit tight, flower girl.'
With that, the dial tone sounded and she pulled her phone back to stare at the screen in disbelief. He hung up on her after asking, what, two or three questions? He didn't even ask where she lived, how the fuck was this guy supposed to help her?!
Her hands were still shaking, heart was still racing.. With a shake of her head to try and get rid of all the nerves, she rushed back to the front door to check the peephole.. Not a soul in sight. Hesitantly, she stepped away from the door and headed to her room. It wasn't anything like the comfortable room she'd come from, her bedroom in this 'new' apartment felt dark, dreary and goddamn did it feel claustrophobic with how small it was. It wasn't like she could complain about any of it, the apartment was cheap ass dirt and they let her get a place without showing ID.
Anyway, she dug into her bags of clothes for something to change into. A black tank top with a sage green cardigan and some sweatpants, some heavier clothing since the place got cold as fuck in the night no matter how hot it was during the day. A shower would help ease her anxiety, it wouldn't rid her mind of all the scenarios that could happen to her but.. At least it'd feel really nice.
Wrong. It didn't feel very nice. The hot water wasn't working and she forgot her brush in the bedroom, so she had to rush her now cold shower to brush her wet hair so it wouldn't get all tangled when it dried. What she hoped was going to be a twenty minute shower, was cramped into six minutes.
A frown on her face, Flora headed back to her living room as she brushed her hair, her eyes immediately flew to the door. They knew where she lived again, they'd said they could just come back later... It wasn't like she was gonna open the door so were they prepared to kick that shit down just to fuck with her? It wouldn't be the first time..
Maybe they were waiting for her at the end of the hall, knowing she had to leave the place at some point for food or other things. They could just-
Knock knock.
Flora's breath caught in her throat, the brush in her hand stilled its movement before she haphazardly tossed it to the dirty looking couch that came with the apartment. In a quick step, she rushed to the coffee table and snatched up the knife she'd thrown down before she took her shower.. There wasn't a taunt that followed the knock, so she was hoping it was them again, the Kitchen Irish coming back already... It'd only been, what, half an hour? They couldn't be that fuckin' bored with their lives.
As quietly as she possibly could, Flora tip-toed to the door and clenched her eyes shut to give a small prayer before peaking through the peephole. Her brows furrowed at the sight of what she assumed was a man wearing dark clothes, he had his hoodie up to cast a shadow over his face but she could see a glimpse of it when he'd turned to look both ways down the hall. He was..huge. She flinched into herself when he raised a fist again to knock, two knocks once again. "You gonna have me waitin' out here all night, flower girl? Could have better shit to do."
A shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding slipped from her lips, she took a reluctant step away from her door. "If-If I really just spoke to you," She sounded as sceptical as she felt, there was no fuckin' way she only spoke to this dude for nearly two minutes and he knew where she lived. She didn't say an address or even a damn checkpoint for him to take a wild guess. "Who did I get your number from?"
"Ginger."
Lucky guess, she thought as she bit the insides of her cheeks. The cogs in her brain were turning trying to think of these damn security questions. "What's her last name?"
"Mitchell. Ginger Mitchell. You gonna let me in or not?"
With a barely audible sigh, she finally cracked open the door. At first, her head poked out some so she could look up and down the hall like he'd done only seconds ago. Still, not a soul in sight, so she opened the door wide for him to step inside. She could barely lift her eyes from the floor to look at him when his shoulder brushed against hers as he passed, when she closed the door is when she gained a little bravery. She could tell he wasn't just standing in one spot, watching, she could hear his heavy footsteps moving slowly around her living room as if studying the area. "I'm Flora."
She introduced herself, not sounding very confident or brave. She had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't say anything when his dark eyes flitted over to her, cold and calculative. "I know."
~*~
Word Count : 2,579
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August 21st, 2026