All in a day's work - Jillian - PG
Jillian had finished with her last appointment for the night and sat in the window of her office, watching the London skyline. One of the best parts about Antila's Youth Councilling Centre being on the second storey of a building was the view. It gave her some sense of height and freedom. The traffic below purred and Jillian took a deep breath, steadying herself out from the day’s work. Sometimes it was hard, she had to admit. Listening everyday to people’s problems, some of them so horrible. She sat day after day and listened to children tell her about terrible things that were happening to them. Much of the time Jilly could do nothing to step in and help. (Sometimes it was better when the crimes were so clear. At least then she could make the law step in and do its damn job.)
She moved to grab her coat from the back of the door, her bracelet bells jingling softly, and then shut off the lights in her room before closing the door. She could hear the sounds of the secretary on the computer in the office and walked down that way before she left. Popping her head into the doorway she smiled. “Hey Ellen, I’m off now.”
Ellen looked up in surprise from her typing. “Oh Jillian dear, I didn’t even realise you were still here. Well, you enjoy your weekend now.”
“You too, Ellen.”
And then she was down the stairs and out into the Friday evening streets of London below, people around her all on their way home or out somewhere more exciting. Jillian wouldn’t have even needed to see them to know they were there, the presence of humans was easy to pick up. It tingled on her skin and the feeling of their souls beneath the surface of them was ever a temptation. But for Jillian it was a temptation she had learned well to resist. So much so that sometimes she could almost completely forget that power was even in herself.
Almost.
She walked amongst them, just another young London lady on her way home from work. But unlike most professional looking young woman, Jillian didn’t stick to well lit paths on her way home. She weaved through alleys and across night covered parks without fear. And when there was a sound behind her and a presence she didn’t stop or worry. Even when she was grabbed and pulled backwards- a hand covering her mouth to silence a scream that she wasn’t making- she didn’t panic. She grabbed the hand from her face and pulled it away, turning to face him now that she was free. A common thug and nothing more- a mugger perhaps, or maybe something worse, a rapist or a murderer.
Jillian didn’t even let her eyes go black. But she was still holding his wrist, perhaps a little too tightly just to make a point. He tried to hit her with his other hand but she grabbed for that too and glared at him, squeezing her fingers tighter. “That’s assault,” she told him simply.
“Let go of my hands!” He’d picked badly. She knew that must have been what he was thinking. He’d picked badly. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected such a sweet girlish thing to have the upper hand like this.
“Why?” she asked. “Tell me why I should. You attacked me.”
“Fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonn-”
“Give me your wallet.” He looked confused and so she repeated it. “Wallet, please.”
“Are you…mugging me?” He sounded incredulous and Jillian rolled her eyes, letting go of one of his hands but squeezing the other even tighter.
“I’m not mugging you. You’re the petty crook. Or worse. Now give me your wallet or I’m going to break your hand.” It was all said very clearly and without the sound of a threat in it. Jillian had never been very good at threatening people. She found it working far better to just tell people the truth and make sure you could back it up.
“You’re not g-” he broke off with a yelp of pain as she push his hand back further. “Okay! Okay! You can have my wallet!” He dug around in his pocket and shoved it into her empty hand. “Take it, you crazy bitch!” Flipping it open Jillian looked inside and found what she wanted. There. A driver’s licence. “Alright, Mr Richard Cook of 12 Valentine Terrace,” she told him, handing the wallet back but not releasing his hand. “You’ll probably be receiving a visit from the police about your night time habits. I think you should probably cooperate.” She pushed his hand back further and he made another pained sound. And then, with a hard shove, she pushed him back and he toppled onto the grass. For a moment he looked like he would come at her again but then he turned and scrambled in the other direction.
Jillian watched him go, arms crossed. So maybe the hand hurting and push had been too much, but Jillian reasoned that she could have done much worse and had in the past. The man should be thankful she was past her vigilante stage and she’d left him intact, soul, skin and all. Now it was time to let the police of this city do something for once against the ordinary scum.
She moved to grab her coat from the back of the door, her bracelet bells jingling softly, and then shut off the lights in her room before closing the door. She could hear the sounds of the secretary on the computer in the office and walked down that way before she left. Popping her head into the doorway she smiled. “Hey Ellen, I’m off now.”
Ellen looked up in surprise from her typing. “Oh Jillian dear, I didn’t even realise you were still here. Well, you enjoy your weekend now.”
“You too, Ellen.”
And then she was down the stairs and out into the Friday evening streets of London below, people around her all on their way home or out somewhere more exciting. Jillian wouldn’t have even needed to see them to know they were there, the presence of humans was easy to pick up. It tingled on her skin and the feeling of their souls beneath the surface of them was ever a temptation. But for Jillian it was a temptation she had learned well to resist. So much so that sometimes she could almost completely forget that power was even in herself.
Almost.
She walked amongst them, just another young London lady on her way home from work. But unlike most professional looking young woman, Jillian didn’t stick to well lit paths on her way home. She weaved through alleys and across night covered parks without fear. And when there was a sound behind her and a presence she didn’t stop or worry. Even when she was grabbed and pulled backwards- a hand covering her mouth to silence a scream that she wasn’t making- she didn’t panic. She grabbed the hand from her face and pulled it away, turning to face him now that she was free. A common thug and nothing more- a mugger perhaps, or maybe something worse, a rapist or a murderer.
Jillian didn’t even let her eyes go black. But she was still holding his wrist, perhaps a little too tightly just to make a point. He tried to hit her with his other hand but she grabbed for that too and glared at him, squeezing her fingers tighter. “That’s assault,” she told him simply.
“Let go of my hands!” He’d picked badly. She knew that must have been what he was thinking. He’d picked badly. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected such a sweet girlish thing to have the upper hand like this.
“Why?” she asked. “Tell me why I should. You attacked me.”
“Fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonn-”
“Give me your wallet.” He looked confused and so she repeated it. “Wallet, please.”
“Are you…mugging me?” He sounded incredulous and Jillian rolled her eyes, letting go of one of his hands but squeezing the other even tighter.
“I’m not mugging you. You’re the petty crook. Or worse. Now give me your wallet or I’m going to break your hand.” It was all said very clearly and without the sound of a threat in it. Jillian had never been very good at threatening people. She found it working far better to just tell people the truth and make sure you could back it up.
“You’re not g-” he broke off with a yelp of pain as she push his hand back further. “Okay! Okay! You can have my wallet!” He dug around in his pocket and shoved it into her empty hand. “Take it, you crazy bitch!” Flipping it open Jillian looked inside and found what she wanted. There. A driver’s licence. “Alright, Mr Richard Cook of 12 Valentine Terrace,” she told him, handing the wallet back but not releasing his hand. “You’ll probably be receiving a visit from the police about your night time habits. I think you should probably cooperate.” She pushed his hand back further and he made another pained sound. And then, with a hard shove, she pushed him back and he toppled onto the grass. For a moment he looked like he would come at her again but then he turned and scrambled in the other direction.
Jillian watched him go, arms crossed. So maybe the hand hurting and push had been too much, but Jillian reasoned that she could have done much worse and had in the past. The man should be thankful she was past her vigilante stage and she’d left him intact, soul, skin and all. Now it was time to let the police of this city do something for once against the ordinary scum.