Chapter5: Flight Instinct

Maddison's POV

The door clicked shut. Outside in the deserted corridor, the sound was loud. So absolute, as if she were in prison, and for a very long time, Maddison was rooted to the spot. The soft yellow light above her seemed to get darker, then the walls felt like they were closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. The only thing she could hear was a deafening scream stuck in her head, the sight of Brooke smiling while kissing Tyler continually replaying in her mind, and it hurt to see.

Then, a coldness swept over her, like she had been dipped into freezing water; it started in her stomach and then spread. It made her arms and legs heavy and weak, and her fingers, still tightly clenched around her diploma, numbed. She looked down at the rolled paper as though it were someone else's, and the red ribbon, which had felt like verification of achievement, just felt like blood on white paper now. Valedictorian; the word now a joke. She reasoned, 'What is the value of a perfect plan if the most important part of my life is shattered?'

And then the chill feeling subsided but this time, it was replaced by a burning anger which started in her chest and spread all over her body. She was still holding the diploma clutched so firmly in her hand that her knuckles were white with the paper making a soft crackling sound in the quiet corridor.

Abruptly, she heard Tyler's quiet voice behind the delicate door, and then Brooke's soft laughter again, and upon hearing them, her rage was further fueled. Her calm of mind and good judgment ceased to exist. She imagined breaking down in the door, she imagined the door splintering under her heel and the stunned faces they would have, she imagined picking up the bottle of whiskey, slamming it on the flashy table, and screaming as glass and alcohol splattered everywhere. Her body stiffened at that moment as if it was in anticipation of a battle, so she stepped forward a little, and her hand was a fist. She thought she would scream at them, air her fury on them, and make them feel some of the pain she was bearing within.

Her eyes drifted down the corridor and then landed on a small, red fire extinguisher on the wall and the text on it was, 'Break Glass in Case of Emergency.' The thought flashed through her mind, wild and intense; this was an emergency. She could break in the glass, remove the pin, and blanket the apartment in white foam because she had a strong desire to destroy something.

But another idea pushed the anger away as she imagined Brooke's face in her mind. In her mind, Brooke was not scared or shocked, but instead she had a slow smile, happy that she had come out on top while Maddison stood there humiliated. She imagined Tyler looking at her with pity, the same vile kind of pity that he always had on things that he thought were below him.

No.

One thought stopped her. 'I will not let them see me like this,' she told herself. She would not be the crazy ex-girlfriend or the sobbing girl in the hallway because her pain was hers, and it was the only thing she had left and she would not give it away just so they could stare. Her pride, as terrible as it was, was still very much intact.

She knew what she had to do. It wasn't a choice, it was a must. FLEE. Maddison turned around so fast that her graduation gown was caught in her legs, and she almost fell over. Her neat hair became loose and fell around her face, but she didn't care. She stumbled along the corridor, away from the door, moving wildly and desperately as she allowed her hand to drag along the wall to keep herself balanced. She just wanted to get away. She had to breathe, had to run until her lungs burned and the memory of them together was gone.

When she hit the stairs, she almost fell down after the first one or two steps but grabbed the rough railing to stop herself. She then ran down the rest of them, running two or three steps at a time in her clumsy hurry with her shoes clomping loudly on the pavement. The sound was sudden and loud, much like the terrified thud of her own heart.

Her dark, flowing robe felt like a jail, and she remembered the neat and tidy life just hours before that had suited her but now was a tangled piece of cloth holding her.

At the landing between the second and first floors, a young man was walking up. He was probably a student. He was holding two bags full of groceries and looked focused on getting up the stairs but Maddison did not slow down.

"Watch out!" he shouted, and he tried to shift to the side.

It was already too late as her shoulder had bumped into his shopping bag with the paper bag ripped open with a loud tear. Dozen shiny oranges tumbled out, and they rolled downstairs one by one. One of them hit her ankle, but she hardly felt it.

"Hey! What the…" the man cried out, struggling to save his second bag. He looked at the oranges that were spilt and then at the wild, tear streaked face of Maddison and, in a flash, his angry face changed to one of concern. "Whoa, are you okay? You hurt?"

Maddison looked down, she did have a tiny cut on her knee, she must have hit the railing but she hadn't even felt it.

"Sorry," she breathed. The word was insincere, and she did not slow or ask for help, she just shoved past him, stepped on a grape, and proceeded downstairs. She departed him alone in front of his ruined groceries. He yelled out, "Wait, do you need help?" but his voice was overwhelmed by the sound of her pounding feet.

She rushed into the quiet lobby, gasping harshly with the light overhead hurting her head. Maddison was almost out, almost free, but she grabbed the heavy door when her purse fell off her arm. Her phone spilled out and landed on the dirty floor.

She leaned forward to grab it, and with her fingers on the phone, the screen lit up and vibrated with a new message. For an instant, she had hoped it was him! perhaps he'd sent a message saying sorry, although it would be a lie she wished to believe.

But it was not.

In white block letters, a calendar reminder sat on the screen.

Our Anniversary Dinner - 8pm

Location: Isabella's on Elm

The text on the screen began to swim and run together. Before she even knew what was happening, a hot tear slipped out of her eye. It followed a discreet trail down her cheek and fell from her chin with a pft sound onto the screen, altering the cruel, cheerful text.

One tear came after, and then another, until they were streaming down her cheeks, silent and unstoppable . It was the first sound of her actual pain that she’d allowed herself to make, a choked guttural sob that ripped out of her throat. She blindly pushed the phone back into her purse, leaned against the weight of the door, and crashed out into the cold night.