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She was tired...so very tired.

Raking a hand through her hair, Ms Parker sighed softly and afforded herself a quick glance in the direction of her watch – midnight.

She had sensed the Centre growing steadily quiet aground her for some time, but the prospect of a dark, empty home, full with memories of times gone past, made her stay put in her office, under the disguise of a heavy workload.

Sighing again, she silently berated herself for displaying an outward sign of weakness. Having basically ‘grown-up’ in the Centre, she was all too aware that the walls around her had hidden ears and eyes that were just waiting for her to make a wrong move, or at the best to show a sign that will belay her reputation as the ice-queen.

Stretching out a hand she reached for a file at the top of a pile of work in her inbox. She had barely opened the file when her cell started ringing. In one swift movement she had removed the phone from its pocket and flipped it open.

“What?” she asked in a subdued voice, lacking the strength to speak in her normal forceful way.

After a few seconds of listening to whoever was on the other side of the line, a small smile started tucking at the corner of her lips, a stark contrast to the hint of irritation that was audible in her voice when she responded. “I’m still at work.”

She remained quiet for a few seconds, before saying, “I’m fully aware of what time it is, which by the way is the same time you phone me yesterday, the day before, last week-“

The person on the other side interrupted her sentence and she allowed him to speak for a while, before saying, “Sydney...please. I know you mean well, but I’m a grown woman and more than capable of taking care of myself.”

She listened for a little while and then stated, “Fine. If it’ll make you happy I promise to leave within the next few minutes.”

Without waiting for another word she closed her phone and tucked it away. Sinking back into her chair, she sat in complete silence, staring into the distance. She allowed herself this indulgence for a moment, before slowly standing up and gathering her things together. She was just about to leave when her office phone started ringing. Frowning, confused as to who might be trying to reach at such a godforsaken time, especially considering the fact that her direct office number was known to mostly Centre employees, all who had already left for home, she picked up the handset and barked, “What!”

She could hear some someone breathing deeply on the other side, but no words were forthcoming.

Narrowing her eyes, feeling her irritation growing steadily by the minute, she assumed she knew the identity of the mystery caller, “Jarod, if this is another of your sick games, torturing hours are between nine and five. Please phone again tomorrow.”

The response was more breathing followed by a laughter that sounded like it had been pre-recorded.

Eyes widened in shock, she slammed the phone down and stared at it for a few seconds in slight horror, heart beating at an alarming pace. She had no idea what to think or feel at that moment, but one thing was for sure – it was definitely not one of Jarod’s typical late night calls. For a moment she considered phoning someone, anyone, for assistance. Maybe Sydney to come and pick her up or at the very least for one of the Centre security guards to accompany her to her car, but at the last moment, just as her fingertips were caressing her phone, she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. It definitely would not do to have her reputation at the Centre damaged, to let people think she is anything less that tough as nails. Also if she dared to phone Sydney, she is never going to hear the end of it, most probably get a mouthful of psychological mumble-jumble and for that she had neither the time nor the strength.

Shaking her head, trying to convince herself that it might have been a wrong number or prank call, but at the same time not quite believing it, she hurriedly gathered the last of her stuff together and made her way out of her office, switching off the lights just before she closed the door.

A few minutes later she was walking at a rushed pace across the big entrance hallway of the Centre, her only company the sound of her high heels making clicking noises against the bright tiles of the floor. She was about halfway to the lifts that would take her to the belowground parking garage, when something caught her attention.

No security guards.

No sweepers.

Not a single person in sight.

Normally it did not matter what time of the night it was, there was always some Executive, sweeper or Centre security guards around, but at that moment she could not see or sense a living soul.

Turning a full 360 degrees, she frowned, not sure what to make of the strange situation, but being intimate aware of the ever present evil lurking, waiting, in the shadows of the place she call work, she pulled out her gun, before proceeding onwards.

Upon reaching the lift doors, she pressed the button to call the lift to her floor, the whole time keeping a wary eye on her surrounding area. It was as the lift doors opened, after what seemed like an eternity, that she detected a movement out of the corer of her eyes. Spinning around, she pointed her gun in the perceived direction.

Nothing.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She shouted out in a slight nervous voice. When she got only got the sad song of a cricket as a reply, she took a deep breath, lowered her gun and silently berated herself for her overactive imagination.

Forcing herself to turn around, with her back facing the unknown world behind her, she took a step forward to enter the lift, but for some unknown reason her eyes decided at that moment to connect with a bullet hole in one of the lift walls, the remains of her mother’s so-called suicide many years ago. For a few seconds she stared at it intensely, a variety of emotions playing across her face. She had no idea why the bullet hole was having such an effect on her all of a sudden, especially considering the fact that ever since she found out the truth, that her mother had been killed instead of committing suicide, she had accepted the mark in the lift for exactly what it was – an attempt by certain dark Powers at the Centre to remind her or her own mortality. The result was that, whether out of defiance or plain refusal to relent to the demons that surrounded her every day, from that time onwards she had refused to acknowledge the bullet hole in any noticeable way.

Until that night.

Shivering, feeling cold fingers playing down her spine, she stepped back out of the lift and whispered, “I don’t think so.”

Turning around she made her way to the closest emergency exit that would allow her to take the stairs to the parking garage. At the closed door she paused, feeling a deep sense of foreboding tucking at the corners of her heart. With a hand, still clutching her gun, resting against the hard surface of the door, she closed her eyes for a second as barely audible whispers started invading her mind – her inner sense.

“What?” she murmured, but just as soon as the whispers started they disappeared.

“Right...either I’m overtired or just busy going stark crazy mad,” she stated, slightly disgusted with her own strange behavior that evening and without any further hesitation she opened the door and started walking, more like rushing, down the staircase.

It took her a few minutes, barely a mark in the page of times, to reach the parking garage.

It was as she pushed against the door to allow her entrance that the first evidence of something dark and sinister came to light.

Something heavy was leaning on the other side against the door.

Laying her bag and gun safely against one of the wall, it took all her strength to force the door open.

The first thing she noticed was that the whole place was blanketed in semi-darkness. Only a few neon lights appeared to be working and even those were going on and off at irregular intervals.

The next thing she noticed happened almost immediately afterwards as she nearly stumbled over the body of a man blocking the doorway.

From his attire it was obvious he was a sweeper – although his identity was unknown to her.

Keeping a wary eye on the darkened area directly in front of her, she bent down to reach for her gun, before stretching out two fingers to feel for any sign of life against the man’s neck.

Nothing.

Not feeling the need to investigate how the man had died, especially since it was apparent that he had most probably been murdered, she picked up her bag and slowly started making her way to her vehicle. If only she could reach it in time.

She was within a hand’s width from her car when she heard a noise coming from somewhere behind her. Swirling around, her weapon raised, she held her breath while trying to determine what had caused the sound. It was at that moment that a masked man, without any warning, jumped out of the shadows directly behind her. With one swift dive movement he threw her against the ground, causing her to land painfully on her side. While she was still trying to recover from the surprised attack he pressed an ominous looking cloth over her mouth. At the same time he pushed with his free arm down hard on her body to prevent her from trashing around.

Years of training enabled her to overcome her initial shock and without thinking twice she lashed out with her free hand to try and slap her attacker’s hand away. When it did not appear as if he was relenting she scratched with her long nails across the only bare flesh, his wrist, resulting in deep dark gashes to appear on his skin and some minor blood flowing.

It caused the man to yelp softly in pain and when she felt his hold on her relinquishing slightly she rolled completely onto her stomach and tried to jump to her feet but the world suddenly started spinning around her.

Unable to keep upright she collapsed back to the ground. At the back of her mind she registered that whatever was on the cloth that her attacker had forced over her mouth was strong and was busy taking an effect on her. Also she realized that unless she did something immediately she was going to loose consciousness pretty soon and as such gave complete control over to the attacker.

Despite the fact that she was on the loosing end of a battle she refused to give up. Biting on her bottom lip hard, hoping that the pain would give her the edge to remain awake, she started crawling in the direction of where her gun had landed at the beginning of the attack.

Her attacker, realizing her plan, chuckled softly and leaped forward. Just as he was about to wrap his hands around her ankles in an attempt to drag her towards him she suddenly strike out with her leg to kick him full force in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps.

Without waiting to see if he was going to recover she continued with her crawl toward the gun, praying that she would have enough time to reach the safety of her weapon.

Just as her fingertips started caressing the cold steel of her weapon the attacker finally overpowered her and rolled her over onto her back. Sitting down on her legs he pushed her arms above her head with one hand, to prevent her from attempting another escape, and started fumbling in his jacket’s pocket with his other hand.

Feeling an intense anger burning in her soul at her lack of strength and resulting helplessness she resorted to her only remaining option. “Who the hell are you! What do you want from me!“ she spat at him, furor spread across her face but inwardly she could feel fear forming in her heart.

Her aggressor chuckled again and leaned forward to place his mouth against her ear, “You know you are really beautiful when you are angry.”

Her eyes immediately widened in shock and with her last ouch of remaining strength she was able to free an arm. Reaching out a hand she snatched at the mask covering his face and removed it.

The last thing that she saw before the pin-prick of a needle against her arm caused her to loose her consciousness altogether, was the face of a mad man which would get to haunt her nightmares for many years to come.









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