'Just tell me what's going on!'

'Let's get inside and I will -'

'NO!' She shoved against him again, but his hard stomach didn't even flinch. He grabbed her wrists and yanked them down to her sides.

'Please Lucy -'

'At least let me call my parents -'

'You can't -'

'THEN I KNOW YOU'RE A FUCKING MURDERER AND -'

Oliver clamped his hand over her mouth, her head hitting the wall behind her.

'Stop it, Lucy, just stop it.' he spat, 'you're making this so much more difficult than it has to be.'

Hot tears began to fall, rolling down her cheek and onto his hand.

'Okay, how about this,' he pulled his gun from his waistband with his free hand, and pressed it into Lucy's. The heavy, cold metal shocked her and she tried to pass it back to him, but he refused.

'You have my gun, and you can keep it. If I hurt you, I give you permission to shoot me right in between the eyes,' she could feel his hot breath on her face as he jabbed his finger into his forehead for emphasis.

Eyes streaming and still panting, she nodded reluctantly, which was good enough for Oliver. He slowly released his grip, but still blocked her in to the alcove.

He spread open his suit jacket. 'I don't have any other weapon on me, okay?'

Lucy looked, and could see quite clearly that he didn't. Still not fully trusting him, at least she knew she could shoot him if worse came to worse.

She'd seen it in movies, it looked easy enough.

'Ready?' Oliver asked timidly. She nodded again.

By the time they’d reached the dingy apartment on the top floor, Lucy's palm was sweating from clutching the gun so hard.

Oliver was just about to put the key in the lock when he paused, as if wanting to say something.

'What?' Lucy snapped, feeling a lot more in control than she did a few minutes ago.

'Nothing - it's nothing. Just, well, just keep in mind that this flat isn't... very nice. It's probably not what you're used to.

Lucy scoffed. She couldn't believe he was warning her about it. Obviously it was going to be an absolute shit hole if the estate in general was anything to go by.

Oliver definitely wasn't joking though, and Lucy was taken aback when she saw what was on the other side of the door. A tiny, dusty corridor lined with doors greeted them, the frayed, 70's style carpet had certainly seen better days. She could feel her nose itching - it hadn't been cleaned in years, maybe decades.

Oliver gave one of the doors a hard shove, and it eventually gave way to a tiny kitchen - sticky surfaces, and a gross lino flooring. Some of the cabinets were hanging of their hinges, and there was no furniture apart from a tiny table in the corner, with two garden chairs tucked underneath it.

She watched Oliver intensely as he cast an eye over the place. In his immaculate suit, he looked so out of place. She couldn't imagine him living here. As he caught her eye, he must have guessed what she was thinking.

'I've borrowed it off a friend,' he smirked, 'for privacy.'

Her hand tightened around the gun.

'You hungry?' he asked, peeking into the rusty fridge.

She hadn't realised until now, but she was ravenous. She hadn't managed to eat anything before her exam as she was in such a rush, but now she felt like she could pass out from the hunger.

But she wasn't stupid.