I hated the dark. I hated not being able to see my hand before my face. It was like nothing was there at all. Like I was falling down and down, into some never ending hole. Now I could hardly see my feet below me. I shuffled on though, as quietly as I could. For all I knew, there might be somebody behind me. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A sudden click had me pressed against the wall with terror. It hadn't been a loud click. Like the sound of a light being turned on. Oh. Above me, in one of the flats, light was spilling out of the window and into the alley. I was safe for the moment, hidden by the shadow of the building. I pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper from my pocket.
Mike Newton
Flat 23
It was all the information I had to go by. I'd tracked down the block of flats after a lot of intense scrambling, but all I had was the street. No country, no nothing. From the start, it had been obvious it wasn't in England. And now here I was in New York City, miles from home, a completely innocent fifteen year old girl. If this Mike person couldn't help me, it was all over.
"Hey Newton! Hurry up, you here me?" The voice drifted down from one of the flats above. Newton. It had to be Mike, it had to be. I forgot all about my discreet plans and sprinted down the alley and round to the front of the building. It was situated on a quiet, but derelict, road. I was clearly in the bad side of town.
The lobby said it all. Brick walls, dirty carpet, a depressed looking lift and concrete stairs. Where would my mum have met somebody who lived in a place like this? I knew that she had grown up in America somewhere, but she didn't talk about her past. There was something more to my mother, that was obvious, I just needed to find out what it was.
On the wall next to the stairs, the flat numbers and floors had been painted on the wall.
The writing was old and faded and nearly illegible. But flats twenty to thirty appeared to be on the second floor. I bounded up the stairs, but I felt like I was running through water. My legs were shaking, why was it taking so long?
Finally, the corridor stretched out before me. All the doors were the same: dirty un sanded wood with a number scrawled on with permanent marker. Number twenty three was the second one in on the left. The door was slightly ajar and I could hear voices from inside.
"I thought you were coming with me?"
"Too hard."
"Everything's too hard!"
"Piss off."
"Yourself!" A man about mum's age stormed out of the room and glared at me on the way past. I stood out of the way. He looked like the type of man I avoided on the streets. Baggy trousers, too big sweatshirt and those huge shoes that couldn't possible fit on his feet. I was beginning to feel nervous. How much of a help would this Mike person really be? Perhaps he was just somebody who happened to go to school with mum, somebody who hardly knew her at all. But the temptation was too strong. I would do anything to help my mum. Anything at all.
Boldly I stepped up to the door. But just I as I went to knock it was opened and before me stood the man that I knew had to be Mike Newton. He was fairly bedraggled looking. Slightly overweight, greasy bleached hair, stubble on his chin with a repulsive smell wafting from his flat.
"Who the hell are you?" I tried to look confidant, but I felt weak at the knees.
"I am Audrey Swan." He narrowed his eyes.
"Swan did you say?" I nodded. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, and then a pained expression crossed his face as though remembering something bad. But then he shook his head and glared at me.
"Go away." He went to close the door but I pushed against it. I was going to make him to talk to me.
"No please! I need to talk to you! My mum needs your help!" He wasn't very strong considering his bulk, but I was pretty weak.
"Well that's great. What can I do for your freaking mother?"
"My mother is Bella Swan and…" I stopped mid sentence as Mike let go of the door. For a moment I thought he might cry.
"Why has she sent you here?" It was barely a whisper.
"She didn't. That's the point you see. Please, just let me tell you my story." He shook his head for a moment, before opening the door to reveal a bombsite of an apartment.
"Come in." I waded across what I assumed was carpet to a falling apart sofa. I wiped off all the