Finding Madeline

Prologue I

The fog danced on the pavement like two lovers trying to sort out their issues. The girl fastened her pace towards her desired destination, pulling her hood further down her head to keep up her inconspicuous appearance. 

She still felt as if she was being watched.

The sound of her knee-high, black suede boots meeting the concrete echoed in the city streets along with the occasional beeping of cars. She took lots of shallow breaths, but still found it hard to breathe in the heavy, most likely polluted air, that lingered with the smell of rain and the unusual smells of the city.

The puddles from the earlier showers stained her suede boots, but that was the least of her concerns. The aftermath had left a bitter chill in the air, making her constantly sniffle. She longed to embrace in the warmth of the inside.

Soon, she thought. 

In the meantime, her dainty fingers reached up to wrap the black, woven, scarf tighter around her neck, making sure to cover up to her nose as well.

Dashing through the backstreets of the city; purposefully avoiding the main streets, it was hard to fully make out her surroundings, in the dark sky. The walls and the concrete and the cove where they met, lingered with shadows of all shapes and sizes. The light sneakily creeping out from some of the half-heartedly pulled curtains of the tall and skinny houses enabled her to make out the street ahead of her.

Not that she needed the guidance. She had mapped out this route, specifically for occasions like this, where she needed to keep on the low. She knew exactly where to go.

Unconsciously pulling a face as she passed a particularly smelly dumpster, she caught the beady eye of a fifty or so year old lady, wearing a too small, greyish, dressing gown. She had her elbows resting on the metal fencing surrounding her house. 

"Why you in such a hurry?" her raspy voice drew out with a puff of smoke from the cigarette hanging loosely between her fingers. 

The girl not even sparing a glance had no time for niceties. And if possible, she quickened her pace even more. She didn't want to risk drawing attention to herself by running. An unsettling feeling bloomed in her stomach like daffodils blooming in spring.

It felt like every move she made was being studied. She hated it. The unease always lurking in the pit of her stomach.

Her heart lodged in her throat as she heard a rustling sound echoing in a side alley, only to breathe out a sigh of relief as a tabby cat emerged into the fluorescent light with a hiss. What a cliché. For a second there she thought it was...no nevermind. She stopped her thoughts from trailing off to a dark place.

This wasn't supposed to happen so soon. By her calculations, she hoped to have longer, but the disrupting event in the middle of the night said otherwise. She had been sleeping on the mattress left haphazardly on the floor of her small flat, only to have been awakened by the smashing of glass...

Focusing on reaching her destination, she abruptly turned a corner and made a last mad dash, running through the scarcely empty streets, past the hushed voices of two men dealing in an alley, past the croaky voice of an older man asking for any spare change, past a drunken trio attempting the robot and past the house where she heard little kids giggling at a cartoon. SpongeBob, she recognised.

Keeping her eyes alert for any unexpected happenings, she felt for her only protection. Grasping the cold metal of her Stanley knife in her coat pocket, she ran her finger unconsciously along the side of it. It's presence slightly soothed the fear etched in her heart, similar to the safety one feels under their duvet. Despite the fact it offered no real protection.