It was dark.
The moment she stepped out the backdoor of the small, cramped publishing shop that she had a temp job at it starting raining. Hard.
She was soaked through in the space of a few seconds.
From the moment she woke up after a restless night of tossing and turning to the blinking red numbers of her alarm clock with the late mourning light spilling into her tiny, roach-infested studio she knew that it was going to be a bad day.
The power had gone out at her crumbling apartment building (for the second time that week...) sometime during the night, which meant that her alarm didn't wake her up at 6am, which meant that she was going to be late for work at her crummy temp job, again.
Her sleazy boss had threatened to fire her unless she slept with him, which would have earned him a sharp slap except she desperately needed the job and therefore had to put up with his slimy innuendos all day as she shuffled manuscripts between the editing, printing and binding staff of the small publishing company that she was currently working for.
At lunch the boss's secretary, a shrewish middle-aged woman with thin, dishwater blond hair "accidently" bumped into Sarah and spilled her coffee all over the brunnet's last clean, stain free shirt that she owned.
Things had pretty much had gone downhill from there and she spent the rest of her day in a dark, angry mood, barely restrianing herself from bitting the heads off of her coworkers over a dozen times.
Now it was dark and it was raining and she had just missed the last bus of the evening, leaving her a three mile walk to her studio in her second-hand pumps that pinched her toes and gave her blisters.
She had plenty to complain about, her shitty apartment, her crummy job, her sleazy boss, the dangerously low amount of money in her bank account, but compared to some of the situations she had been in the last few years, she was pretty well off.
For after all, her stalkers, had yet to find her in her newest location after almost three months of living in Boston.
That is until tonight it seemed.
She could feel the shadows creeping around her and felt a feathery touch brush against the back of her neck.
They had finally found her it seemed, yet again.
They had already blocked off both sides fo the narrow alley she was in. The door behind her had automatically locked when it closed as she exited the publishing shop.
Sarah was trapped. She had a sinking feeling in the bottom of her gut that she couldn't escape this time. None of the tricks that she had picked up over the last few years would get her out of this one.
She could hear the scrapping of claws as they dragged against the stained concrete of the garbage strewn alley and the dark, excited hissing of the creature's minions. She could feel the smug anticipation of one of her stalkers that had been hunting her since her eighteenth birthday.
It was time to use her last recourse, they had finally forced her to use it.
"Jareth" she whispered.
And then there was silence.