When I was finally shown where I was staying for the two nights before the competition, I collapsed onto the sheets of the puffy double bed. I closed my eyes, all I could think about was what Azalea had said the day before. 'This is your fault Nikolas! I told you to stay in the shelter.'
I couldn't sleep all night, the view from outside made me shudder. Poor people gathering up coal and sticks, their eyes bloodshot, clothes ripped and dirty. I didn't want to shut the curtains, I just couldn't cope with their sad faces looking up to the sky, waiting for daylight.
Not from outside, but in the building. I wrapped my scarf around me tightly, and grabbed my torch from the white shelf.
I opened the polished door, the creak was deafening in the engulfing silence. Carefully, I crept downstairs, cautious not to turn on any lights, though I so wanted to.
A third scream.
I shivered then, not sure whether to turn back, to the lush cushy room.
I wasn't here to be a coward.
The splintering scream echoed through the halls, as far as I was concerned, Australia could probably hear it.
My torch glowed throughout the massive corridor, every shadow made me jump.
I looked into a room, the red carpet furrowed though the floor, a violent gush of white splashed through the air, a flickering light at the end of the room.