One foot in front of the other. That's all I have to do. Just make it to the kitchen. Get the pills. Come back.
Simple.
I make it to the top of the stairs and look down.
The foyer below seems impossibly far away. A canyon. An abyss. The marble floor gleams under the chandelier light, and for a second, I see myself falling. Tumbling down. Cracking my head on that expensive stone.
Would anyone care?
Would they even notice until they found the body?
I push the thought away.
Voices drift up from somewhere below. The dining room, probably. The brothers. Eating dinner together like a normal family.
Lucky them.
I grip the railing and start down the steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
My hand is white-knuckled on the banister. The wood is smooth under my palm. Solid. Real.
I'm halfway down when my vision doubles.
Two staircases. Two railings. Two chandeliers. Four walls instead of two. Everything multiplied and overlapping.
I blink hard. Try to focus.
My foot catches on nothing.
Just air. Just empty space.
I pitch forward.
Time slows. I feel it happening—the moment gravity takes over. The moment I stop being a person and become a falling object. Mass and velocity and inevitability.
My stomach drops. My hand shoots out, fingers scrabbling for purchase. Nails scraping wood. Splinters biting into soft flesh.
I grab the railing at the last second.
My shoulder wrenches. Pain lances down my arm. But I hold on.
I hold on.
My heart hammers against my ribs. So hard it hurts.
Holy fuck.
I almost just—
The voices in the dining room stop.
"What was that?" Bane's voice. Sharp. Alert.
