CHAPTER 2 

        "What do you mean you think someone has been in your place? Like breaking in?" Rachel asked as she caught up to me.
        "Rachel, I've already explained it. I have to get Mr. Toll's blood samples to the lab, if I stop to rehash this - Dr. Lloyd is gonna be on my ass." My strides widened a bit as I tried to pick up speed to move around the crowds in the packed ER hallway.
        "Great, I'm going that way too!" The perky blonde held up three vials of blood, shaking them at me with a wide grin, "Now, Spill."
         "There's not much else to say." I responded by punching the elevator button. A group of nuns were loitering just nearby, "Sisters? Are you all here for Sister Pamela?" I asked them.
         Eight pairs of eyes swiveled to me at once and a short woman with gray eyes stepped forward,"Yes, we got turned around. The man at the front desk wasn't very helpful."
         "That's not a problem, I can take you to her."
         "Elizabeth," Rachel hissed.
          I sent her a content smile and led the nuns to their Sister. Telling Rachel wasn't in my plan - but she had heard me on the phone with Mr. Johnson in the breakroom, and immediately became curious. She and I were more acquaintances than friends and I didn't want anyone at work to know my troubles at home. If they were even considered troubles at home...nothing was able to be proven just yet, and I didn't want it to get out of hand. I wanted it to stay between just me and my neighbors. Gossip around here spreads so fast and I just don't want the stress of others worrying about me.
         Night Shift has sapped all of my vitality, so by the time I get home in the mornings, I haven't even looked around for anything out of the ordinary. I'm just a shell of a woman, with sweaty, dirty and sometimes vomit-covered scrubs that I am more than ready to get out of. Mr. Johnson hasn't yet reported anything when he stops by to see me in the late evenings. When we pass one another in the hallway, I always have a Thai food bag in one hand and a huge tea in the other, delirious from waking up but eager to eat. His debriefings are extremely brief, which he says is a good thing and pats me on the shoulder, and I'm relieved that nothing jumps out to him; nonetheless, I'm not checking myself. I ought to be, yet my focus is always completely consumed during the first two weeks of a new shift. Especially something as drastic as the night shift.
         My hands rubbed up and down my goosebumped skin as the elevator opened up to the lab hall. As I reached for the vial, which was safely tucked away in my breast pocket, I was violently slammed into.
        "Stop him!" A voice rang out above me, I lifted my head slightly from where I had landed on the hard linoleum floor. The distinct sound of boots slamming against the ground before retreating into the elevator, caused me to jolt back to reality. The familiar ding of the elevator doors sliding shut was muffled against all the yelling and ruckus surrounding me.
       "She's hurt! Get me a gurney!"
        "He's got a knife." Someone shrieked.
         So much was going on.
         I couldn't breathe. 
         I gasped for breath as my head smacked on the ground again, blurring my vision. I scowled at the pressure of hands pressing down above my breast as something warm crept across my chest.
     What- is that?
        "Elizabeth, we've got you."
          It was what Dr. Lloyd told me as he helped them lift me onto a gurney. His hazel eyes locked with mine and he gave me a reassuring smile.
         "What -what's going on?"
           The doctors were fast as they wheeled me into the elevator, fussing over me. Every attempt I made to sit up was thwarted by a heavy hand on my shoulder. Lights shone into my eyes and my head throbbed at how bright it was.
           Concussion?
           "That man we turned away last week came back -,"
           "He stabbed me?" My hands were in a flurry as I tried to grasp at the soaked scrub top.
           "Must've had a knife - you're losing a lot of blood." His large hands stilled my shaking ones and pushed them down by my sides.
           "I don't feel any pain -,"
             Suddenly, as Dr. Lloyd cut my shirt off, I realized where the blood was coming from.
           "It's a vial. I was taking it to the lab -,"
           "I see the pieces now, it broke your skin. There are shards of glass -," He stopped mid sentence at the force of my small hand clamping down on his forearm.
           "Ethan."
            His eyes flickered to me, worry and confusion etched across his brow.
          "Tolls. It was Toll's blood."
            We locked eyes and he stammered out a slew of profanities before barking orders at the other two people in the elevator with us. As soon as he had me sitting up, he started cleaning the blood and glass out of my wound.Our blood had mixed - no distinction between his infected blood and my clean blood, not that I thought there would be - funny what your mind thinks of in times of high stress.
            I did nothing but watch in utter silence while he worked on me. A panic attack erupted and I started to feel my chest heave as my lungs strained to pull in air and my brain was swimming. I barely registered the cold of the water he used to irrigate my wound.
          "Elizabeth, I need you to calm down before you pass-,"
His face bent and swirled like a funhouse mirror before my eyelids fluttered shut.

• • •

I came in, shut my door, and locked it, my heels dragged across the hardwood floor of my flat. They dragged me to the couch, where I sat with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. After I passed out in the elevator, they wheeled me into a separate room away from prying eyes and hooked me up to saline to help rehydrate me while they drew blood. Three to four vials of blood later I was able to go home - it was more of a demand on my part. As a medical professional I knew the signs that I needed to go in, and wouldn't have someone watching over me for 24hrs. I wasn't going to sit in the hospital among the concerned looks of my peers, my bones ached and I just wanted to sleep in my own bed, not in the cold and sterile hospital.
        I was diagnosed with a Grade 2 concussion from how hard the back of my head banged against the floor. I hadn't even realized how impactful my fall had been. I feel as though I'm going through knee-deep water with a thick fog surrounding me, and my mind is incredibly foggy. When Rachel volunteered to drive me home and then return my car after her shift was done, I was unable to refuse. I wasn't in any condition to drive, and my eyes ached.
       The gauze and tape that had been placed after they drew blood, were prodding at my flesh as I sat there, angry. The vial that broke on me was filled with a patient's blood that I was taking to be tested. Because of his symptoms, we suspected that his viral load had skyrocketed, and he was booked for an AIDs test. I just hadn't anticipated being run into - if only I had it in my hand sooner or never even placed it in my pocket to begin with. Angrily I kicked out at my coffee table and the remote fell to the floor. My big toe pulsed with a dull pain but I ignored it and slipped to my side, curling up on the couch. Tears were threatening to spill as the weight of my day began to settle.
         Keys in the lock alerted me and I sat up wide eyed staring at Mr. Johnson. He held a pistol in hand, was on high alert as his eyes searched the room before settling on my blotchy and red face.
         "Elizabeth? What's wrong, darlin'?" He shut the door behind him, sure to lock it and set the gun on my counter before cautiously making his way over to me. As he moved closer the concern on his face grew. Words wouldn't come out and I just stared at him before breaking down, his strong arms were around me in an instant and my head was tucked under his chin, a warm hand making circles on my back as he let me bawl my eyes out.

• • •

Mr. Johnson was kind enough to let me slobber and cry my eyes out onto his gray shirt for over an hour and then listen to my angry rant of how unlucky I've been, that the universe must be against me. He sat there never interrupting me and let me pace and fume at the world.
         The showerhead's heavy, hot water now pummeled against my bowed neck as I stood with my forehead resting against the cool tile of my shower. Water dropped from the tip of my nose and trickled down my lips as it cascaded down my jaw, and along my cheekbones. I looked down at my wound, noting the clear waterproof dressing I had applied over it so I could take a shower. Although it had scabbed over since the incident a few days prior, my wound was still raw and painful. I couldn't get it wet since I had required stitches, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from enjoying some solitude. I needed this scorching hot shower.
         My mind felt fuzzy like a television with white noise had been left on. None of my thoughts were full thoughts - just clippings of scattered paper falling too quickly for me to read. The dark room was swallowing me whole and as I lay here in my bed, snuggled deep into my warm duvet, I wondered when he was in here last.
Was he here now?
         Weary eyes darted to each and every corner of the room before jumping to the beads separating me from the huge dark void of the living room. A sliver of moonlight pressed against the hardwood floor creating a perfect square, my blind was pulled back.
I hadn't touched them all day.
          I know I should stay in bed, but curiosity kills the cat, right? With the bat from Mr. Johnson leading the way in shaky hands, I moved towards the living room. My bare feet were sticky against the wooden floor, I was already in a sweaty panic. My grasp loosened a little as a result of the clamminess of my hands, and I readjusted. The beads of course gave away that I was investigating. I may have to keep those open from now on - but they are a good alarm. Stepping out into the open space made my stomach queasy - it rolled like when I was five and on a ferry for the first time. Swallowing hard, my eyes darted to every crevice and dark corner as I made my way to the pulled back blind. It was the small window again - the brick I had set against it was now on the floor, pieces broken off.
  I never heard it fall.
            Backing up, I reached for the baby monitor bringing it to my mouth while keeping my eyes to the window. I almost missed the dark gray mist over my left shoulder. Whirling around my voice stuck in my throat as I stared at the pitch black encompassing my bathroom. I kept the door open because I loved the wallpaper inside, it was always a conversation starter, but now as I stared at the almost too dark room I swear I could see a shape, massive and formidable, shift forward. No, it took a step forward. I was screaming into the baby monitor in seconds, shrieking for Mr. Johnson as I bolted to the front door, ripping the chain and turning the lock. He was already bursting through the door before it was fully open, gun in hand and a determined look on his face.
           "My bathroom. He's in there!" I pointed with a shaking finger.
Mr. Johnson stoic and alert moved about my small bathroom with proficiency and ease, he cleared it within seconds. He also searched the rest of the apartment before coming to stand in front of me.
           "Anything?" I asked, peering over his shoulder into the bathroom.
            Shaking his head he holstered his weapon, "No, are you sure there was someone here?"
            Suddenly angry I barked back, "I know what I saw! He was in there!"
           "I believe you, Elizabeth, I do, but -"
           "But?"
           "You never took your eyes off the bathroom, right?"
             I scrunch my nose at the question, "Only to let you in."
            "That only took a few seconds and he's not in any other place in your apartment."
            "What are you saying?"
            "I'm saying that you still have a concussion and the stress of this week isn't helping. Your brain is overwhelmed, Elizabeth."
            "I made it up," the heel of my hand pressed into my left eye and I sighed.
            "No, that makes sense. I'm looking for something in the dark that's not there. I'm terrified to be here knowing that this is when he most likely comes. I just - just want this to be over, you know?"
            "And it will be. I'll stay here with you tonight and for however long you need me to."
             I shook my head vehemently, "No, no. I don't need a babysitter, Malcolm."
            "You're paranoid, injured and need sleep. I'm staying. Don't lock this door behind me - I have a key."
              He seemed unfazed by me using his first name and left me in the living room. I knew he was right and retrieved a blanket and pillow from my linen closet. I didn't wait for him to return, I just set the items down on the couch and went directly into my room. Soon I was curled up under my duvet and listened to him enter and settle into the makeshift bed on the couch. Oddly enough I felt safer with him there within minutes. Soon enough on a fluffy pillow billowy enough to give cushion to the dozens of crystals underneath, I fell asleep.

• • •

It was three days later as I sat in my living room with a cup of tea clutched tightly in my hands, the steam and heat from the hot tea could be felt through to my chest and beneath my chin. A crappy Lifetime movie was playing but I wasn't paying attention to it, my full attention was on the man hanging from outside the window. The building's super had hired window cleaners, said something about the cold weather and it affecting glass and seals. I had laughed at the seal part knowing mine was faulty and hoped there would be some feedback after they were done. The cleaners would need three days to do the entire building and my apartment was located on the top floor and faced the front of the bustling streets below. The way they moved their squeegees up and down the glass was mesmerizing. Sipping from the mug I glanced at the large stone gargoyle looming behind the man. The weather was getting colder by the day now that we've made it to November and I wondered how it would affect the stone. Would it weather it down, make it more susceptible to breakage?
           A loud pop followed by a bang and shudder on my floor caused me to spill my tea, quickly I stood up and set my cup down and ventured towards the noise. It was the window, it had popped open and my brick was laying on the floor in three large pieces.
        "Are you fucking kidding me?"
         Grumbling to myself I bent down to pick up the pieces. It had split down the middle, small red crumbs fell off the broken chunks and the rust hue stained my fingers.
What was going to hold this window closed now?
         I needed to speak to Mr. Sampson, now.
         I found Mr. Sampson in his office on the first floor. It was tucked behind the front desk and past the mailboxes. He was on the phone with his back to me as I entered. The office didn't have any windows and the walls were a greasy yellow-green color slightly discolored from the amount of smoking he did at his desk. He must not have gotten the memo that smoking inside has been frowned upon since the early 2000's.  Mr. Sampson had a few photos on the dark wood desk but they were all of his golden retriever, Maple. She died three years ago and I almost felt sad knowing that he hadn't gotten another dog or a friend, but then remembered how horrible his personality is. I bet the only reason why the window cleaners were here was because Mrs. Albert complained. She lived past me toward the corner of the building and was extremely wealthy - she has been living in this building for over three decades and had rent control from the previous owner.
          Whenever the rest of us felt ignored by Mr. Sampson we would go to Mrs. Albert and I'm so glad she did because now I can hopefully get the window fixed now that she's on his dick about the windows in general .His raggedy red leather chair, torn and worn in places spun around at the sound of me clearing my throat. His large brown eyes squinted and his skinny nose wrinkled up as he held up a finger to indicate to me to wait. I stood in the doorway not wanting to walk further into the cloud of cigarette smoke that was always following him. The air was cooler down here and I rubbed my hands up and down my bare arms to create some type of heat.
           Finally, he set the phone down on the receiver and pursed his lips together,
          "What can I help you with Ms.Weiss?"
          "There's a problem with a window in my apartment. The small one by the fire escape? It doesn't stay shut and I saw the window cleaners and wondered if they can put in a new seal or fix it or something,"
           He nodded and sighed, "I'm not footing the bill for the window cleaners, Mrs. Albert is. You'll have to speak to her."
           Mr. Sampson's voice dipped into disgust and I realized he didn't even know they were coming. He turned his attention back to his decades old computer, clicking away on his keyboard. The tall, spindly man had ended our conversation with a side eye to check why I was still there. Shooting him a smug smile I turned on my heel and turned back towards the elevators, sure to check my mail first tucking it into the crook of my arm as I rode the elevator back up to the 4th floor.
           Mrs. Albert's corner was dim and outside her apartment was lit with fairy lights. She had a Monet painting hanging by her door and a small end table with fresh Poppiesput out everyday. No one questioned it, it was just how she was and everyone was used to it. Her door swung open after only a few quick knocks, showing a tall, thin Indian woman with streaks of gray in her pitch-black hair and a long bohemian blue dress. Just like Theresa, her wrists were adorned with a dozen or so bangles of all sizes and colors. A bright orange lipstick caught my attention as her lips pulled apart to smile at me. Mrs. Albert wasted no time in pulling me into a hug and ushering me inside.
          Her home is richly scented with incense, and the enormous potpourri bowl by her front door was emitting a light scent of roses and vanilla. Photos of her late husband, Donovan, who had passed last year greeted us. In the photos they were different ages, their college graduation, their wedding, and so many more fond memories. I smiled at the photo of them two together on their wedding day. She was all done up in traditional Indian wedding attire, I think she called it a lehenga, the deep red of his sherwani matched her dress and looked amazing against his dark skin. I didn't have time to admire the details too long as I followed a quick paced Mrs. Albert.
          "It's so great to see you, Elizabeth," She smiled at me and beckoned me to follow her into the living room.
           I sat down on the lovely mustard colored couch, "You too. How are you doing? The window cleaners weren't too expensive were they?"
           She perked up and threw a smile over her shoulder at me, "Not at all, didn't even make a dent. Besides, someone had to get this place looking up to par and ready for the winter. God knows Tommy wasn't going to do it."
          Soon, the air was filled with a high pitch scream and she moved the tea kettle to another eye before turning off the stove. Mrs. Albert made quick work of a few tea cookies on a serving plate, I hoped they were Madeleines. She put the tea cups, sugar and honey onto a larger serving plate and set them in front of me onto her coffee table. We settled into a calming silence as we drank the first sips of our tea, I added three sugar cubes and she plopped in half a spoon of honey. The small golden spoon twirled in the hot amber liquid for a moment, never touching the porcelain cup.
         "I suspect you're not over here for my company and amazing tea," Mrs. Albert broke the silence.
         "No, but it is a plus," I set my cup down, "I have a problem with a window in my apartment. It keeps popping open and I think it might be the seal. Could you have one of the workers look at it?"
          She nodded, sipping at her tea, but didn't respond right away. Instead she reached behind her and pulled a small deck from the table behind her couch.
        "Of course, dear. That's not a problem. In exchange let me read your tarot. I'm feeling an imbalance in you."
        "An imbalance?"
         Mrs. Albert didn't answer me; her attention was on her cards. I kept my eyes on her hands as she tapped the deck onto the surface of the table and returned her large brown eyes to mine.The air had shifted and I sat up straight pulling myself forward until I was literally on the edge of my seat.
       "I don't believe in any of this, though,"
        "That's not a problem. You don't have to - just let me do this for you, Elizabeth.I'll give a brief of what they mean individually and then once I've read them out to you and then I'll put it all together to give more clarity. Only take what resonates with you."
        "Ok."
        "I do this for fun, but I like to think I'm good at it." I could only nod.
         Mrs. Albert pulled three cards from the bottom of the deck only turning them over when all three were laid out side by side. My eyes frantically searched her face for a twitch or anything to give way to what she was thinking as she flipped them over. Her face was as stoic as ever and I peeled my eyes from her tawny clear skin to see a tower on fire.
        "The Tower, upright. A lot of change, upheaval, damage, and mayhem are to be expected. This could mean just a drastic change in your life - something that's been lingering and building up to a climax."
          I swallowed hard and watched her manicured long fingers flip over the middle card.
        "The Lovers and it's upright, it may mean that you are in the midst of a decision that will significantly alter your life. This choice or predicament usually contains temptation. The last card is The Chariot. This card emphasizes the importance of maintaining control of your environment in order to overcome obstacles and achieve victory."
         Mrs. Albert closed her eyes and hummed faintly before opening them again,
       "Something is looming just on the outskirts, I can see it in your aura; it's tinged with gray. It's splotchy or muddy, and it conveys a lot of fear to me. Panic and worry are taking over your entire life."
          She moves her hand over the Lovers card, "For some reason I'm getting a very strong love energy from the Lovers. It's as if you're on the precipice of meeting your person. It's going to be a whirlwind of emotions, and very sudden and there may be sacrifices that come with loving this person. You must decide if they're worth it."
          "Whatever the sacrifice you have to make or huge decision keep a level head and face it full on. Don't panic and don't waver, you have strength by your side and in the end it will all be worth it."
            I blinked up at her as her last word left her lips.
          "I'm not sure what to make of any of that."
          "It might not make sense now. It could happen in the next few days, months but it will happen.With the Tower card - I know it seems scary but it doesn't have to mean literal mayhem. It could be more on the lines of a new job, a promotion even. Maybe you're deciding to move. Anything that might cause a shift in your life."
           I sat back taking in all the information and felt the mail I had collected earlier crinkle under my weight. Instantly, I sat up and rifled through it looking for the Hospital logo in the upper right hand corner. Mrs. Albert's eyes bore into me as I ripped the envelope open, pulling the paper out and letting the empty envelope flutter to the floor.
            As I read the words I could feel my heart galloping in my chest slamming against my ribcage. Blood rushed to my ears and I didn't hear Mrs. Albert call out to me - her voice was underwater and suddenly I was out the door with fresh hot tears streaming down my face. Everything was blurry as I frantically made my way to my apartment, keys trembled in shaking hands and once inside I let the door shut with a soft clink as a scream of fear, triumph and exhaustion bellowed from my lungs.
             I was clean.

* * *

           Hello! I am very excited for this chapter - and hope you all enjoy it too. I edited this on the train on my way home from my parents house so I might go back and fix the indents soon.
          I would love to know what you think - I love to read your comments. Also, each chapter so far has been over 3k words, is that a good length or would it be better to split to chapters?
          Thank you to everyone who voted, commented or added In The Shadows to your reading lists it means a great deal to me!

          * p.s: I've been playing with the idea of taking this already mature story to the next level with sex scenes (smut for us avid readers, haha), gore and violence. I don't want to stray from my vision and would love to see what you guys think, especially as the readers, I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. So if you are or aren't okay with monster smut please comment here with an explanation of why. If you're not I can always edit the chapter and alert readers for when a scene may show up in the chapter so you can skip it.

Thank you for reading