Page 15 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Damn.

It led into a crowded alley where leather-winged beings like Praevus shuffled to and fro. No way was she going out there. After she snapped the door shut, she plastered her back against the warehouse wall and slid to the floor, unconcerned with the dirt. She pulled her knees to her chest and held them tightly.

Maddy willed tears not to fall. Crying was useless. Al-Anon and her older sisters had taught her to approach problems with a clear mind. Panic muddled thoughts. Tears drowned them. She was a cautious person who thought situations through, examining the pros and cons of an issue from every side. She weighed the consequences. Only then did she act. Should she buy the blue shirt on the rack in her favorite boutique shop? Pro—it was the latest style and cute. Con—it was expensive, and she already had one in a similar color. So, no. Turmoil was unsettling because sometimes it called for a snap decision.

Order. Control.

The story of Maddy’s life. She ironed her jeans, applied her makeup perfectly, and got a weekly mani-pedi. She liked chatting with friends at bars, flipped off bad drivers, booed the umps at Cardinal games, and enjoyed rare sexual relationships. Not being quiet or demure, she defied many librarian stereotypes. Still, her career choice fit her most necessary requirements. In addition to the each-book-in-its-place kind of order, it rarely required an instant decision.

Now, her heart pounded, a hammer against her ribs. Her chest bounced with rapid, shallow breaths.

Relax. Think. What happened to her escape plan?

She breathed in through her nose. Out through her mouth. She dropped her shoulders. What did she control? She could move around in the empty warehouse. She could open the door to leave. She could crawl into a corner, curl into a fetal position, and sob.

What didn’t she control? Praevus could return at any moment. Her clothes were dirty and ripped. She didn’t know where she was. If she went outside, she would be among people like her captor. Lots of them. Most of all, she couldn’t control what they would do to her.

Deep breath. Stand up. Choose. I can control the choices I make.

Maddy cracked the door again, eying the busy alley. She opened it wider to slip out of the warehouse. Decision made. Part three of talk show host Lizette Lee’s strategy was in play. She was escaping. Carrying out her plan.

People bumped her shoulders, jostling her, barely giving her time to glance around at the surroundings before sweeping her along. They seemed too distracted to notice her.

Good.

Outside, the day was cloudy and cold. She clasped the fabric of her torn blouse together, shivering, her teeth chattering. A passerby, showing actual fangs, growled at her when she bumped into him.

With her hand clutching her shirt, she fixed her gaze on the ground while she scurried forward. When she reached a corner, she dared to challenge the crowd by weaving through them to turn right as they continued on their way.

Using her peripheral vision, she observed that most walkers wore tattered, soiled clothes. A few had slightly better attire. Some veered into storefronts which lined the street. Others kept a stuttering pace, heading for destinations further along. They all looked scared. Like her.

Assessment.

She was in a busy city. The neighborhood wasn’t upscale. Trash spilled out of knocked-over cans. Windows were grimy or boarded up. Paint peeled from crumbling exterior walls.

A strong wind blew, pushing her faster as she stumbled. As quickly as the gale had started, it stopped.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Madeline hurried forward, her feet cold, sticky, and cut from shattered glass that littered the sidewalk.

Walking until she nearly collapsed, she finally rested against a graffitied wall. The crowds thinned as people disappeared from the street. An already dim sky darkened. Though a crowded city was scary, an empty one at night would be worse.

When the wind kicked up again as the climate changed, debris churned through the air. Madeline curled her free hand around her eyes as a shield and shoved off. A strong breeze brought hot air, pushing out the cold. With a ragged sleeve, she wiped sweat from her forehead.

Can’t the weather make up its mind?

Maddy thought of sleep, would love to sleep, but that was not an option. She stopped in front of a shop with a clean window. Chancing it, she opened the door. Inside, a woman screamed. A lump stuck in Maddy’s throat as she spun around, too afraid to investigate.

Nope. Not there.

She hustled on her way, hopping on one foot to pull a shard of glass from the other heel. Tired, she paused again, staring at the graffiti, which was more plentiful than paint on the buildings. The favorites wereHELPorEXTINCT THE OC, whatever that meant.

Madeline stumbled, falling to the concrete, fighting the desire to cry. Sobbing never solved a problem, she reminded herself. But damn, it was getting hard to resist. Brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, she got onto her scraped knees, pushed to her bare feet, threw back her shoulders, and continued on her way.

She paused in front of a well-lit bar where she considered going inside because a public place should provide safety. When she stared through the open doorway, however, her premise fell apart. Loud music blasted her ears while patrons pounded each other with their fists, and drinks flew across the room. She wrinkled her nose. Stale cigarettes and spilled booze.

When she backed away, three behemoths stopped beating the shit out of each other to snap their faces in her direction. Their hair hung limp on their shoulders while their mouths twisted into a strange pucker as if they prepared to whistle. Their dreamy-like eyes almost drew her to them.

But she shook off their mesmerizing appeal. Horrified by the sight, she limped off. In the weather’s ever-fickle manner, rain fell from the dark sky. What little light there was from streetlamps dimmed behind a downpour.

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