Looking out of her window onto Canterbury street, she was unaware how soon death was about to come upon her. Death had, in fact, just rounded the corner in a light blue Ford Focus which juddered as death tried to drive it up the hill in the wrong gear.
She stretched out in her window seat and took in the scene; rain pouring down into the road and cascading off broken guttering onto the pavement which was slowly becoming a river running south towards the city. On her side of the street, flats ran the whole length, the brick facades unyielding and unforgiving. The other side the pavement blended into grass, behind which there were pedestrianised rows of non-identical terraced housing. The lack of parking was unlikely to be a problem here- few people from this neighborhood drove.
It was after 6 in the evening, but she'd only woken up a few hours previously- days off were not a common thing at all, and sometimes the most rewarding way to spend such a day is asleep. The last of the days light was fading slowly, and the driver of the Focus put its headlights on just as it drove past her. Ground floor, whole body up against the glass, he saw her. He recognised her. Unknown to her, still watching the word pass by in the storm, violence began to form in his head. Bumping over the curb, he parked on the pavement and stepped out about 30 feet past where she stood. Concealed by a large coat and the closing darkness, death buzzed her apartment to be answered by a flatmate.
"Is Charlotte in?" She heard from the crackling intercom in the hallway, unable to detect the voice.
"Yeah, come right in", came the much clearer reply, not even bothering to ask who he'd just let into their apartment building. There was a buzz and the external door swung open.
Footsteps.
Who would want to walk through that weather to see her? She wasn't expecting anyone, but stayed perched where she was. A car horn blared out on the street as traffic tried to push its way through the bottleneck created by the stopped vehicle.
"Alright mate, she's just in her room".
"Thank you".
Have you ever seen those ever-repeated threads on forums and the like where they ask you which item, that you could grab in two seconds from where you sat then, would be most useful as a weapon?
She recognised the voice, and fear coursed through her. Leatherman? Too far away, she'd never reach it in time. Items on her desk? A spoon, nail file, text books, safety scissors and a 1.5L optic vodka bottle. Vodka bottle.
The door handle was turning. She swung the bottle like an unwieldy club, but it didn't connect to anything but the wall.
Pain.
Blood.
The knife still in his hand as he turned swiftly out of the apartment, and disappeared into the downpour.