“Sold. Going up.”
But there are a lot of cobwebs. I’m refusing to call them spiderwebs. I’m in denial that there could be a whole family of big-ass spiders up there.
No. Just no.
Gingerly, I climb the stairs. They’re not … great. But they’re holding me as I climb, and when I get eye level with the floor, my eyes widen and I let out a low whistle.
“Holy fucking jackpot, Batman.”
There are trunks, stacks of newspapers, old toys, and a stroller that looks like it held a baby a hundred years ago.
I climb the rest of the way and pick up a newspaper, and once I clear about an inch of dust away, I see the date.
August 7, 1964.
But then, in the back corner, are more newspapers, and once I make my way around a ton of stuff, I see that they are dated twenty years prior to that, announcing the end of the Second World War.
“Crazy,” I whisper, shaking my head. “This is a fucking treasure trove.”
I’m giddy at the thought of opening all the boxes, the trunks, and the bags. Obviously, I can’t do all of that tonight. It’s startingto get dark, and I need to go home and take a shower before I cook dinner.
Checking the time on my phone, I see that Brooks should be headed home soon, too.
It’s time to set this all aside for another day, but man, it’scool.I direct the light to the other side of the attic. It must span the entire house, and every square inch is full of stuff, with just little paths here and there for walking. I’m standing on old two-by-fours, and as I start to make my way back to the stairs, the wood beams give out beneath me.
“Ahhh!”
I scream as I fall through the floor. Pain shoots up my leg, the crash is almost deafening, and I lose my phone. But I don’t fall all the way through.
My hips catch on something, with my legs hanging down through the ceiling below me. I cough because of all the dust and God-knows-what that just got kicked up. My heart pounds, I have tears in my eyes, and my leg is onfire.
My phone rings, and it’s Brooks’s ringtone, but it sounds far away.
With my heart in my throat, I search around me. “Come on, I need you to come help me.”
I sound out of my mind. My voice is shrill and full of panic.
“WHERE IS MY PHONE??”
It rings again, and I’m able to look down between my legs and see my phone, face up, on the floor below.
“No.” Tears spring to my eyes. “Oh shit, I’m in trouble. I’m in so much trouble.”
Did I tell Brooks I was here?
I think back on our texts. No. I didn’t. I just told him I’d see him soon.
Oh God.
I can feel blood running down my left leg, and I can even hear it dripping on the hardwood below. The ache in that leg has its own heartbeat. It fuckinghurts.
“I hope that blood doesn’t hit my phone.”
My laughter at that thought sounds hysterical.
I’m stuck here, hanging half in, half out of an attic that no one even knew existed. It’s getting dark, andno one knows where I am.And I’m worried about blood messing up my phone.
I’m so fucked.
