Charlotte After Dark

Chapter 3: A Day in the Alleyway

They say that the first stage of grief is denial. As I looked down at the metal bar that used to be a handle, I believe denial was a very good word to describe what I was feeling. I dropped the handle like it had suddenly became hot; it fell to the ground with a clamor that ricocheted around the entire room. I quickly began to examine the door, trying to find a way to pry it open for my escape. It protested loudly, but soon I had the door wide open and was faced with a badly lit white hallway. 

At the very end of the hallway, a large "EXIT" sign shown like a beacon in the night, beckoning me. I stuck my head out of the doorway once more, looking to see if anyone could see me before I made a beeline to the emergency exit using the wall as a crutch, wrapping the lab coat around myself to hide my costume. 

Eagerly, I pushed the open door bracing myself for the icy, cold night. Instead, I was simply let to an alleyway behind the building, unaffected by the cold autumn weather at almost five in the morning. 

I wandered around for what felt like ages trying to find out where I was, hopelessly trying to get some sense of direction. My legs still wobbled, almost buckling under my weight as I walked. Surely to any passerby I would look like I was still drunk from the night before. Many times I was forced to hold onto the brick walls on either side of the alley way to stabilize myself as I trudge to the familiar sounds of Philadelphia street traffic that lay on the other side. 

My knees gave out right before I reached the street as I growled out in frustration, terrifying a woman who passed quickly, almost running. 

I slammed by fits down on the ground, causing the concrete to indent with two perfect replicas of my fists. 

"Work!" I demanded of my legs. 

I let out a labored sigh, pushing back the tears that still lingered from before. What had happened to me? What did I do to deserve this punishment? 

This must be all a dream, a horrible, terrible nightmare that I would be waking up from soon. Maybe I had fallen asleep in my organic chemistry class, again. 

I began pinching myself all over, trying to wake myself up. 

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," I pleaded with myself. "Please, wake up." 

As I continued to pinch myself in earnest, desperation began to set in and once again I was in tears. Uncontrollable, messy tears streamed down my face as I watched the sun slowly crest over the nearby tall buildings that littered Philadelphia. 

Needless to say, denial had definitely set in. For what felt like ages, I sat in the same position, staring blankly at the wall in front of me, attempting to come to terms with what was happening. 

I watched slowly as a ray of light began to trail up the side of the wall beside me before reaching my hand. Warmth spread over my hand quickly becoming hot like someone had placed a molten coal on my skin. Quickly, the unmistakable sound of sizzling began to start as I saw my hand was engulfed in smoke. 

I screamed in pain, feeling as though someone was ripping my skin off and burning my entire hand at the same time. I retreated into the shadows of the alley like a wounded animal, cradling my hand. 

The further I retreated into the darkness of the alley the quicker the pain began to subside in my hand. Soon, it was gone and as I glanced back at my wounded hand, it looked as though nothing had even happened. 

I walked so far back into the alley way that I finally reached the end, slumping down until I ended up sitting on the ground in disbelief. 

How many people wake up in a morgue with super strength and a weakness to sunlight?