External | HS

4.

Leaving The Castle was like getting on a red-eye. There was no one around except for staff. And by staff I mean just Martha. It seems that she was the only other person in this building besides me.

Walking through the lobby I can see that she's on the phone again. I head towards her as she glances up at me and hangs up the phone. Frantic eyes patiently waiting for me to speak first.

"What's going on with everyone today?" I motion to the lobby that was previously being cleared out.

"I have no idea what you mean." She dismisses me in a neutral tone.

"When I got here everyone was rushing out of here and then I met some blonde guy in the elevator and he said-." My words get cut off by the loudest rumble of thunder. Me and Martha both turn towards the window in a jump.

"You know what, forget I said anything. I should get home before the weather gets worse." I turn from the desk and walk away.

Dreading being in this weather, I push the doors open quickly and jog down the 87 steps dodging big puddles and soggy leaves. Half way down this -now- staircase to hell, I call Eddy to pick me up. The phone rings twice then cuts out.

You've got to be kidding me.

I call again and it does the same thing. Only two rings and then cuts out, not allowing me to send a voicemail either. It looks like I'm walking. Going back into The Castle is not an option - that place is just as eerie as the weather and Martha's really starting to freak me out.

I know she's blonde, but did she really not notice all the frantic people rushing out of here? A lightbulb goes off in my brain. They must've known it was going to storm. That explains the guy in the elevator too. I feel like an idiot for not checking the weather before leaving the house.

I slow down my pace, careful not to slip down the rest of the 62 steps and further embarrass myself. It's raining pretty heavily and being found dead and wet as a rat in a sewer with my makeup smeared doesn't sound too pretty. I can't go into purgatory looking like that.

I shove my hands in my pockets and keep my head down to see better, taking one step at a time.

60... 59... 58... 57...

Snap!

My legs give out and I tumble down a couple steps, scraping my knees and hands in the process. My stocking rips open as blood trickles down my left leg. I take a seat on the cold, damp concrete and wipe my hands together to get rid of the dirt and tiny stones. My book and files for the event are scattered even further down the staircase.

I stand up and stumble again, my right leg giving out. Looking down at my feet and lifting my leg to check my heels, I can see the black heel peg hanging by a thread from the base of my foot.

Grunting loudly, I take off both heels and throw them in the perfectly coiffed hedges to the side. Now limping, I crouch down to pick up my sopping wet book from the stairs along with my files.

I open my book to see the ink smudged and pages torn in some areas. I can't tell if a tear falls down my face or if it's just water from the sky. Closing the book, I fling my head back and grunt to the dark clouds above me. Letting the rain attack me at full force.

Deciding I'm not going to stand here and let a little rain make me feel this way, I continue my journey home.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, I take the pathway under the trees to not get as wet. It's a lot more work walking in the rain when one leg decides to betray you.

I limp to the end of the block before sitting at a bench to catch my breath and see how my bloody leg is doing. I set my paper belongings next to me and mourn my favourite book that's now ruined. I'm never going to be able to replace it. It has all the best quotes marked in each page, there's personal thoughts jotted down from start to end. I've had it since I was a kid and now it's ruined.