The Taking of Eleanor Ainsworth

Chapter 20

What is there to fear besides fear itself ? Its an odd, yet amusing emotion, an illusion that makes the heart race and makes even the strongest of men struggle for air.

Whats worse than fear ?
The truth ? 

Matthew's fingers hovered over the file that bore Eleanor's name. The truth, he thought, is much worse than fear itself, his head was telling him to go home, be rational and think about the implications, whilst his heart, his broken and fragmented heart was telling him to keep going and unravel the truth. He sighed hanging his head low and brushed a shaky hand over the brown file. The material smooth and feathery under his palm.

The truth. He needed to know what was going on, he needed clarity and most of all he needed comfort. He needed to put his raging heart and head to rest, he hated being in the dark, especially when it came to those he loved most. He took in a deep breath and pulled out the white thin sheets of paper out of the brown file.

His hands shook as his eyes scanned the taunting sheets of paper in his head. Festering anxiety rendered his mind ineffective, he could not think, could not decipher the codes of scribbles and jargon on the papers in front of him. He was looking for one word and word in particular. Dead.

The more anxious he got, the wetter his eyes became, a tearless stage where his eyes glazed over and began to ache, now was not the time and definitely not the place for tears. He sniveled, and blinked back the tears, cursing as a lone tear escaped, leaving a watery track down his hollow face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked at the papers again.

The light in the office flickered twice before the bulb burst and glass rained from the ceiling, Matthew cowered underneath his hood, using his arms for protection.

"What the -" He trailed off, noticing the light in the hallway had turned off and the back up generators had kicked in, illuminating the hall in a dim green glow. Matthew swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat and stood up, gathering all the papers under his arm and stepping towards the door.

He was trespassing, stealing files from a detectives office, he knew somewhere it was a criminal offense, but the heart gets what the heart wants, the truth and he needed to find out, even if it meant breaking into the police station and Detective Mitchell's office. He pulled his hood tighter over his head and stepped out into the green hallway, he looked both ways, listening for any sounds before proceeding towards the back stairs.

He snuck through the open door and ran down the stairs, the file crinkling underneath his arm, he missed the bottom step and tumbled forward, twisting his ankle and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. He laid there his hot cheek resting against the cold and dirt ridden floor. He waited, waited for someone to barge through the doors and arrest him, arrest him for theft and trespassing, but no one came.

It was eerily quiet, too quiet the only sounds that could be heard was the low hum of the generators and the whistle of the wind as it pushed through a cracked window. He shifted his weight onto his hands and stood up, falling to the side as pain shot up his right ankle  and leg.

He grunted, limping down another set of stairs to the ground floor, he pushed through the doors and limped his way to the bathroom and to the window that he crawled through. But before he could reach either, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Move, and I will kill you where you stand, try to run and I will kill you before you even manage to lift a foot off the ground." A deep voice snarled behind him. Matthew clutched the files close to his chest and stared ahead of him, not daring to turn around.

"Now, turn around, slowly." The man instructed, watching as Matthew hesitantly turned to face him.

"What's that you got there Matthew ?" The voice asked, his face shrouded in darkness from the hood of his coat.