Nancy

She hadn't needed to use the gun. The next person to walk through the door had been Bill. Nancy'd sorted it out- he'd already agreed to keep her secret long before. Nancy knew, definitively, he was on her side. He hated the old bastard, and he knew what the man did to girls, same as he knew what he did to boys, and he knew what the street was to Nancy.

So Bill had let Jackie stay at their flat for the night- though he got his bed make no mistake. Nancy'd set up as best a spot as she could for Jackie to curl up, and even so she'd fallen asleep with the other girl in her lap, once more. But they couldn't hide away for ever, Bill'd told them that flat out. They had to return to the den. Pretend everything was normal, test the waters and see what Jem'd done told everyone.

She'd hoped, now that they'd had time to cool, she would not have need to bring the pistol along, tucked into her basket like it was nothing.

I’m the lamplight, she saw him. She would never be able to not pick him out in a crowd. Whatever it was that had drawn them together in the first place, that supernatural magnetism, it had never left. not after everything.

She knew it was him. even before she saw the scar on his neck, peeking out from his overcoat, over the girl’s shoulder. It was Bill. Bill Sikes fucking some other whore, balls deep from the looks of it. Her ha Sa flew up over her scarred mouth when she saw it and it took no time for Nancy to dash off, taking the quickest route back to their Bethnal Green flat.

Her response is typical. When she arrives at the flat she throws her things to the floor and goes for the first open bottle of gin and then the second. With the place empty again it was easy to fall into the habits. Somewhere, somehow, on the second bottle she’s on the floor near the fireplace, leaning against the table leg. It won’t take long until she’s half slumped, near unconscious in the last place Bill should have ever left her.