Surviving Brooklyn (Brooklyn Series Book 1) by Elizabeth York Page B

determine where the sound came from, I realized I could not go back. The floor and hallway behind me had disappeared. If I were to step back, I would fall into the darkness.
    “Brook.”
    I heard someone call out my name in the dark. It was a man, and there was a pained groan.
    “Who’s there?” I called out. Taking a few steps forward, I heard the voice again.
    “Brook.”
    I didn’t want to go through any of the mahogany doors. I was confident those doors would take me back to meet the devil himself.
    I started running, trying to find the familiar voice in the darkness.
    “Brook,” the voice called out again, this time with a cough as if gasping for air to breathe.
    “Where are you?” I screamed back. Do I dare to open one of the mahogany doors?
    Click clack, click clack —I froze. Those were not my heels on the floor making that noise. Panic escaped my lips with a shivered attempt to hold my breath. This couldn’t be happening again. I listened for the groan and did my best to tune out the sounds of feet coming near.
    The man’s groan made him sound as if he were in absolute agony. Please , I silently begged to God or the universe. Whoever kept bringing me back to this place was showing little mercy. I had a choice as the footsteps grew closer. I could run and leave the man behind, or find him and risk going back to the one hundred and eighty-seventh floor.
    I could never turn my back on someone. It wasn’t in my DNA; I couldn’t live with myself knowing I could have done something to help and refused. There was no way I would leave this man behind. I just needed to find him and get the hell out of there.
    I heard the voice again. I had run too far as the voice was groaning behind me now. Fear took hold, as I made an instinctive decision to turn back. The non-existent floor in the darkness seemed to return as I stepped to go back the way I’d come. When the floor returned, it was no longer the pretty white marble floor. The floor was blood red and the walls had turned to a burnt orange color. The doors had turned black in protest. It was the most horrible color array I had ever seen. Regardless of the difference, I knew what I had to do. I went from door to door, calling out. 
    I didn’t dare turn the knobs. Keeping my hand on a knob, I heard the groan from behind the door. The voice was begging for me to come to him. Then out of the corner of my eye in the darkness, a shadowy figure moved. The shadow slowed as it neared, the clicking of the heels slowing as well. This shadow had been what was chasing me.
    Emerging from the darkness was the woman I had tried to save before. She was wearing the same clothing. I recognized her green eyes and long blond hair. It was a relief, as I was no longer afraid. Instead, I was overwhelmed with sorrow for this woman. I kept my hand on the knob while the woman began to walk past me.
    “Brookie, where are you?” The man’s voice called out.
    The pained groan said he was right behind the door. The woman stopped and turned back.
    “Come save me, Brooklyn.”
    I was torn. I knew the man behind the door was strained for my help, but I also knew this woman needed me as well.
    “Stay here with me,” I implored her. A small smile slid across her face.
    “Only you can save me,” the woman said.
    “Please, stay here with me. Let me help you.” At this point, I was begging.
    “Brookie, come back to me,” the man’s voice called out. I suddenly felt torn in two.
    I wanted to run to the  voice behind the door to seek safety. And I wanted to stay and help this woman. Though the cost was high, I felt responsible for not stopping the devil the first time. Facing reality and being a grown-up sucked. I would have paid for someone else to choose which decision was right. Maybe I could save her and help him.
    The blond woman looked over her shoulder as her body shuddered with fear. A large creature came walking out of the darkness. It was him. He wasn't a dragon this time.