A sequel to A Single Night (Chapter 1)
The morning was foggy, temperatures had taken a steep dive that must have been down to the single digits and it was basically freezing or maybe it was just another property of this empty and uninsulated tall building. The floors were just simple polished concrete that sucked away the warmth from you every time your skin came into contact with it and the walls were painted a dull white. All the windows were boarded up with cardboard, so even during the day the inside of the building was enveloped in darkness.
These properties blended together to give the building an aura like that of a haunted house, if you listened intently you could almost hear that ominous horror movie music and as you walked in it you’d be half expecting a murderous psychopath to jump out at you with every step. It gave one true solace because you didn’t even have the luxury of natures company.
A distraught Michael lay asleep on his concrete bed, the only bed he had known for the past two days. He had continuous neck pain from supporting his head all night on his arm as a pillow. It was really something far from rest because even in his dreams he was tortured by his reality.
He had only a thin blanket that barely covered his entire body for warmth but the cold concrete made it irrelevant. The room he slept in was fairly sizable about 5×8 metres. There was a half empty carton of water in one corner of it, a battery powered lamp was on top of the remaining bottles and all over the room, it was scattered with empty packets of corn chips and empty food tins. Michael hadn’t seen the outside for what felt like a month, but no matter how much he craved the sun he couldn’t risk getting recognized and having the cops called on him.
He finally shook awake and realized just how cold it was, he tried tugging the tiny blanket tightly around him but as he pulled on it on one side the other would be left bare to face the cold. A few more minutes of pulling and tugging, fighting a battle with his own common sense, Michael realized it was hopeless finally deciding to get up and exercise to just take his mind off things.
He stood up in such a gradual manner, that it looked as he was a giraffe that had been knocked over for the first time and was only realizing now how tall it was. Utterly frustrated he screamed as loud as he could only to be replied by the echo of his own voice. He hadn’t really had a chance to grieve about Paula, it had just been a continuous roller coaster ride since waking up that Sunday morning.
Now it had been two days of no human contact and it was slowly starting to drive him mad. He didn’t want anyone to talk too or someone to listen to him, he just wanted someone there with him. Tears filled up his eyes and he couldn’t even speak audible words, he just shaped out the word”why” with his lips. Down his knees his mind was flooded by sadness and guilt. He just couldn’t believe he had taken a part in his girlfriends death…
After an hour of self pity and wallowing Michael picked himself up and he walked out of the room he was in and into the main hall. As he didn’t have a change of clothes and the ones he had been wearing for four days now were beginning to get stuffy, he stripped down to his boxers and shoes. He hung them on one of the doors to air out and almost fully naked he started running laps up and down the hall. One lap, a second, a third, after his tenth he lost count but carried on running. Sweat started building up and his chest was slowly losing the ability to keep up with the demand for oxygen.
Bent down, hands on his knees he finally stopped to catch his breath. As he hyperventilated he started feeling better, that hint of a feeling of everything eventually being alright had been restored. Walking back from the other end of the hall to the room he was staying in, a thought he had been putting off came back to mind.
He wondered why Ryan hadn’t been back by building for so long? He had last seen him the day they had ran away from the bar after trying to retrace his steps the night Paula had died. After their escape, Ryan being a real estate agent had come up with the plan of stuffing Michael in this building he knew was unoccupied. He had purchased rations to sustain Michael for a day or two and promised to return every night as they needed to devise a way forward.
Michael reached his room and took his bath, which wasn’t a bath afterall it was really just him washing his face and armpits with one 500ml bottle of mineral water. He scavenged through the mess of litter but soon realized there was nothing to be found, he had run out of food and his stomach was now grumbling…
-To be continued