A World Crashing Down

Back on his bike and riding through Defiance, the worry he had felt before had turned to outright fear, and as soon as it had turned the corner Dylan had jumped on his bike and followed after the car the detective had ridden away in; Dylan knew this town better than most due to years of him and Hayley spending years avoiding home by learning every short-cut and hiding spot, and was able to stay out of sight by diving in and out of side-streets and alleyways, allowing him to keep up with them. He also knew he was lucky though, since it was only by chance he was able to correctly predict where they were turning and duck into the appropriate short-cut, any misjudged turns on his part and they would be lost to him. 

Eventually after tailing the car for what seemed like an age it stopped, something he was grateful for since he was panting and out of breath. Once he had caught up with himself, he looked around and realised he was on Guthrie street opposite the library- a place he casually avoided most of the time, unsuccessfully though since Hayley often dragged him here. Something had clearly happened though because parked outside the generally dull building was an army of news vans all with their equally boring logos painted on the sides. From unlit corner, Dylan watched as the officers, along with Mrs Tomkins, climbed out of the car and he felt his stomach sink as he watched her led past the media circus and into the imposing stone building. 

Dragging his bike back into the shadowed alleyway and leaving it there, Dylan started around towards the right sight of the library; there was no way he was going to be able to get in past the media frenzy, but places like this always had several entrances and it was unlikely the police had covered them all yet. He knew all too well that if he was caught in there it wouldn't go down too well, but he had to know, he just had to know if it was her. Back against the wall, he glanced at the crowd of journalist now milling about in front of the great white pillars, cameras pressed against the panes of the glass doors. 

Walking hastily along the edge of the wall Dylan listened carefully for any sign of the building patrol keeping people away. The alleyway was familiar to him, having been round this way a few times before during one of their 'outings', and he recalled the sight of the dirty stone cobbled floor and old wooden barricade surrounding the entire building, each part exactly the same so if you looked ahead it created the illusion of a dead end; it was only when you reached the end that you realised it stretched around the entire building. Pacing towards the end, keeping steady control of his breaths, he finally reached the corner and stopping his rhythmic breathing entirely he pressed tightly against the rough stone and peered round the corner. Expecting to be greeted by the leering face of a police constable he instead found himself staring into nothing, no police officer, just the impenetrable dullness of the place.

Rounding the corner, he encountered a rusty metal ladder mounted into the wall leading up to the roof. Testing it with his hand first, Dylan began to climb in the hope that there would be a skylight or entrance on the roof he could get in through. He had almost reached the top however, when he heard voices below him; hooking an arm under the metal for support, he looked down to see the patrolman he had so deftly managed to avoid before, walking the length of the alley and speaking into a radio. The voice in the radio Dylan recognised as the DI he had spoken to before, distorted by transmission but still recognisable. His heart pounding inside his chest, Dylan continued to pull himself up before either his nerves gave way and he plummeted to the ground, or the officer decided for whatever reason to examine the clouds. 

With the extra adrenaline coursing through him he reached the roof and after hauling himself over the top, collapsed in an exhausted heap, no sound but the wind whistling around him; surprised by the unexpected intruder. Staring up at the cloudless sky, Dylan could almost forget what had brought him here, but he remained adamant and once the rush had worn off, rolled onto his stomach and ignoring the sharp stones stabbing his palms, pushed himself back onto his aching feet. Glancing around, he became instantly aware of high up he was and, heart pounding once again, resisted the urge to lie back down and crawl his way to safety. Fortunately there was an open  fire door leading to the inside of the library, so anxious to be inside, Dylan made straight for it and looking down the staircase, could just make out the dim light of the main hall. He was about to begin the descent when at the bottom of the stairs appeared a uniformed man, who spotted him immediately and ran up after him. Panicking, Dylan dashed around the side of the door, following it around the back and coming out on the other side; by the time he had done so the officer had reached the top of the stairs, and having seen him flee, took the same route as Dylan.

Short on time, Dylan jumped through the door and slammed it shut after him, sliding the bolt across in the process and trapping the uniformed officer on the roof- hopefully he hadn't gotten a decent look at him! But time was now short, and he had to find out whether his fears were true before the trapped officer could alert his colleagues, or attract the attention of the media mob outside.

Almost blind as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Dylan crouched beside the wooden banister and squinted at the scene below him, the DI and the constable he had followed were stood to the left of a huge carved oak table, while Mrs Tomkins cried hysterically into the shoulder of the clearly uncomfortable constable. The sight of her so miserable made him feel a little guilty, for years she had openly disliked him and he had never been secretive about his reciprocation. At one point she had actively sought to separate Hayley and him, and it was one of the few times his father resurfaced from his catatonic stupor since he had somehow managed to convince her not to try and keep them apart; Dylan had hoped it was a sign of his fathers recovery, but not long later the pattern of alcoholism and despair resumed. 

What drew his attention most however, was the figure slumped in the grandiose chair at the very end of the table, covered by a white sheet. Putting the facts together, Dylan realised that Mrs Tomkins had been brought to identidy the body. A feeling akin to hot lead being poured down his throat ran through Dylan and he had to fight back the tears, now was now the time to start blubbering like a child, especially since the noise would attract attention. Staying still as Mrs Tomkins was put through the process of formally identifying the body, at one point falling to her knees in front of the slumped figure, Dylan was grateful when they finally led her out of the room and through a side exit as to avoid the unmerciful media circus outside. It was not enough though, he needed to see her for himself, even if he already knew what awaited him down there; Dylan needed to see her.

Waiting until they were gone, and he was alone, Dylan quickly climbed down the impressive staircase and walked toward the figure, once again covered by the sheet. Putting forward a trembling hand, Dylan felt a single tear slip past his defences, and lightly grasped the sheet. It was as it fell away, and revealed the corpse below, that his world ended.

'Hayley...no, please, no...' he whispered, voice cracked and half silent. There was no mistaking who it was though, the green eyes with a taint of silver that he knew so well staring into the skylight above, a distant and empty gaze. Her hair framed her face beautifully, midnight black and reaching down to her shoulders and beyond. Even in death, she was still beautiful. Her arms fell by her sides and hung there, bare and covered by faint old marks, scars he never knew were there. Distinctive on them though, were eight dark strokes, fresh and still bloody. Kneeling down and tracing a finger gently across them, he wondered how he could never have known, all these years and not even the slightest hint. He slipped his hand into hers and unable to hold them back anymore, let the tears come. She was gone, he loved her, and she was gone. 

He stayed like that for a while, and probably could have stayed there forever, but he had done what he had come to do and it was time to go. Covering her over with once again with the sheet, Dylan retraced his steps to the top floor, but realised the roof now held a very angry police officer, and even if he'd managed to find the ladder bolted to the wall, he would have called for back up. In short, Dylan needed a new way out. At first he'd considered the exit he'd seen the DI and Mrs Tomkins take, but decided against it since it meant it was an exit they would be watching. 

Thinking back to his few and far-between trips here with... her, Dylan remembered that the oldest books were kept in an underground cavern, one of the many Defiance was said to be riddled with; hopefully there would be an entrance to the sewers he could get out through. Following the stairs leading down, he found himself once again struggling to see as he emerged in an even dimmer room, less than half the size of the one above yet seeming to have twice the number of dusty old books. Wandering through it, Dylan felt a stab of relief as he found a huge green door at the far end and pulled it open, though not without some effort as it was nearly twice his size and metal, to reveal a tunnel. He had no idea where it led, but an exit was an exit and he began to walk down it and into the unknown beyond.