“This is some real messed-up shit,” Chief says, already heading for the staircase. “Let’s see what we find upstairs.”
The stairs creak ominously under our weight, and if Roman hadn’t already been through here, I’d worry they were about to collapse. The second-floor hallway is long and dark. Doors line both sides like something straight out ofThe Shining.
Most doors are open, revealing empty rooms with stained mattresses and broken furniture. The waning light filters into the hallway, casting dark, broken shadows that fuel the anxiety bubbling in my gut.
It’s as though everyone left this place in a hurry, and the life that once filled these halls is all but forgotten.
Perhaps that’s the way it should be.
“She saved these rooms for guests and…donors,” Clover says.
At the end of the hall is another staircase, and Clover stops to stare at it. She’s even paler than before, which I hadn’t thought was possible.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “Her office is up there.”
We approach slowly. Chief reaches for the doorknob at the top of the stairs and tests it.
Locked.
“That’s strange.” I hiss. “Roman said he cleared the place. Maybe it’s just stuck.” But I hold up one finger, telling Chief to wait.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot Roman another text.
Me: You cleared all the rooms? Third floor too?
Roman: Yes. Twice. We’re on the property. Where are you?
Me: Main building. Wait outside.
I pocket my phone, knowing he’ll follow orders. The last thing I want to do is spook Clover any more than she already is.
“Want me to—” Chief says, but I’m already shouldering past him.
“Turn around, and cover your head,” I say to Clover. She reacts without questioning me. It’s another sign that she’s in some state of shock. Clover always asks questions.
One good kick and the old lock gives way, the door swinging open with a crash that sends wood splintering in every direction.
The moment we enter, the smell nearly knocks me over.
Someone has been here recently. There’s lingering perfume, sharp and chemical. But underneath it is a hint of coffee and cigarette smoke.
Clover grasps for the wall, tilting sideways, and I rush to her side.
“What is it?” I ask, scanning the staircase behind her.
“It’s just…it’s a lot. I—I don’t think I was fully prepared for—for this. And that smell? Do you smell it? It’s…”
I haul her into my arms, holding her tight, breathing her in and hoping she can’t feel how hard my heart is beating.
I’m not prepared for the flashes of memories trying to take root in my brain any more than she’s ready to relive them.
“If it’s any consolation,” Chief says, “I don’t believe anyone could be prepared for this after what you’ve lived through, kid. You’re mighty brave, being here now.”
She shakes her head against my chest, but I hold her tighter.
Eventually, she pulls back and stands on her own two feet. “Let’s get this over with.”
Clover turns away from me and takes in the room.
