He’s not coming, I scold myself. He told you to run. He practically threw you out of the cellar.
But the door stays unlocked.
The clock on the nightstand reads 2:24 A.M. when I hear what I’ve been waiting for.
They’re heavy, unmistakably Lukas’s, and moving through the room on the other side of that bathroom door. My entire body goes stiff beneath the sheets. Every muscle locks.
He’s coming now. I’m sure of it.
The footsteps grow louder and closer. I can track his path through the bathroom by sound alone. My heart beats so violently that it drowns out the banging shutter.
Here they come, closer, closer, closer… Almost… almost…
They don’t stop at my door. They don’t even pause. They continue down the hallway, toward the stairs, and fade into the bones of the house until there’s nothi
