For All Our Sins. T.M.E. Walsh

      She used some water to dab off the spots of blood around the collar and shoulder. There was little she could do, and she gave up as the blood smudged to a dark-coloured stain. Against the purple fabric it wasn’t too noticeable and at this time of night, there would be few staff and security around to stop her. Government cuts had led to staff shortages, which worked nicely in her plan.

      She took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor, Mel’s bag slung over her shoulder, security pass swinging on the lanyard around her neck.

      She walked quickly.

      She kept her head down low as she passed each security camera mounted up high on the walls. It’d just be George manning them tonight and Mel had seen to him to buy his silence.

      The bright white corridors seemed to wind on forever, but soon she came to the first set of security doors.

      She held Mel’s pass over the sensor pad and breathed a sigh of relief as it beeped and the door clicked open. She navigated two more doors until she came to the side trade entrance Mel had used to enter the building.

      There was no one there.

      George had left his post.

      Once outside, Amelia found herself in the visitors’ car park, partially lit in the darkness.

      She still had Mel’s keys with her but taking her car was out of the question. She headed towards the security booth that would be the last barrier she had to pass before reaching the road ahead into Stokebrook village high street.

      As she approached the booth, she saw it was occupied as expected.

      She dipped her hand into her pocket and felt the tip of the shard of glass she’d retrieved from Mel. She pressed the edge against her fingertip.

      The man in the booth watched as she approached the pedestrian walkway with some curiosity.

      It was George.

      ***

      Amelia had been free for half an hour, climbing over fences and running over farmland, George’s blood mixed with Mel’s on her jumper.

      Stokebrook village was surrounded by farmland and a wood, and Amelia had passed at least two other sleepy hamlets in the last half hour. Despite the isolation, she’d been careful to keep to the fields that ran behind the hearts of the villages.

      She paused for breath behind a wooden outbuilding on some farmland.

      The night was silent with only the light of the moon to illuminate her surroundings. She was tired from running and needed somewhere to sleep. She peeked inside the unlocked outbuilding.

      There was nothing but hay inside, and although it smelt musty she curled up in the middle of it, pulling it all around her so she was hidden.

      Using Mel’s bag as a pillow, she rested her head and closed her eyes.

      ***

      It was almost 7:00am when she awoke the next day to the sound of her stomach growling.

      She was starving.

      She rolled over and pulled out strands of hay that had caught in her hair. She sat up and pain surged through her skull. She grabbed the back of her head, rubbing it.

      She inspected her fingers and saw dried flaky blood. She realised she’d cut her head when Mel had pushed her to the floor.

      Ignoring the pain, she peeked outside and saw that morning dew had soaked the grass and a low mist still hung in the hills ahead of her. She was cold from the lack of food and proper clothes. She walked a few minutes down a small country lane to try and get her bearings.

      She came across a small cottage with some clothes hanging on a washing line. She crept as quietly as she could and felt the fabric. Everything was damp from being left out overnight, but Amelia didn’t care.

      She grabbed a child’s pink baseball cap, tracksuit bottoms, a top and zip-up fleece from the line. She ran behind some dense bushes and pulled off Mel’s now grass-and-mud stained clothes and changed into the stolen ones.

      The elasticised tracksuit bottoms fitted her fairly well, but the top drowned her. She pulled the fleece on, which fitted more snugly, before pulling the cap down low, obscuring her face with the peak. It was too tight, but not noticeably so.

      She stood quietly for a while and could hear traffic somewhere in the distance, and wondered whether to risk hitting the main roads or not.

      The hunger in her stomach made the decision for her.

      After walking for half a mile she saw the main road through the trees, the cars zipping past in a blur. She saw a road sign for a service station and followed through the fields that ran alongside the main road until she saw the Welcome Break services ahead.

      She walked through the car park towards the main entrance. No one seemed to notice her dressed as she was, and she blended in with the crowds of people resting in the many eateries.

      She could smell the strong scent of fast food, burgers, fried breakfasts and muffins. Her stomach growled as she made herself walk past and towards the small WHSmith ahead.

      She couldn’t afford to be noticed by anyone. It would be less of a risk to blend in a fast-moving queue. She grabbed some water, crisps and a few chocolate bars and paid.

      Soon she was ripping the wrappers from the chocolate and stuffing them into her mouth without really chewing, before washing it back with the water.

      She was sitting in the picnic area away from most of the cars, gripping Mel’s bag tighter, thinking of the money inside that would help her on her journey for revenge.

      She looked around and saw the pay phone.

      She had less than a pound in coins, but didn’t want to risk going back into the services complex. She put all the coins in the slot and dialled the number she’d committed to memory, and waited.

       ‘Hello?’

      Amelia almost cried at the sound of his voice. Her eyes shut tight.

       ‘It’s me…I need your help.’