Did I close it? Or leave it open?
Oh God.
My pulse spikes, loud in my ears, drowning everything else out. I take a step back even though it won’t help, my shoulder brushing cold stone.
Think. Think.
“Becky?”
His voice again, louder now. Closer.
I can hear the difference.
He’s not across the house anymore.
He’s above me.
I glance at the staircase, at the spiral of stone disappearing upward into darkness, the narrow opening suddenly like the throat of a monster waiting to swallow me whole.
There’s nowhere to go.
If I run, I’ll meet him halfway.
If I stay…
The flashlight trembles in my hand.
The thump of his foot on the first stair.
Not here. Not now.
I stare at the staircase, frozen as the sound travels down toward me.
One step. Then another.
Each footfall unhurried, as if he already knows.
Like he’s not rushing because he doesn’t need to.
Because I’m not going anywhere.
My back presses flat against the wall now, as far from the stairs as I can get, but it’s useless. The room is too small. Too open. Every inch of it exposed.
The light flickers across the symbols at my feet, the knife on the table, the chains on the walls—
Everything I wasn’t supposed to see.
Everything he’s going to know I saw.
Another step.
Closer.
The sound of it fills the space, louder now, bouncing off stone.
I click off the flashlight, plunging my half of the room intodarkness.
Now the only light comes from the staircase, from whatever Carrson carries down with him to guide his steps.
