The Attic (Completed)

Chapter 16

Ian awoke to throbbing pain in the center of his face.

He was slumped against a stone wall in one of the hidden passageways surrounding the pool room, dried blood on his lips and chin. His attacker must have dragged him here after knocking him out.

Lily!

He was too late.

Scooting to a seated position and then a standing one, Ian staggered a few steps, facial nerves exploding in pain. He touched his fingertips to his crooked nose and steeling himself against the pain, snapped it back in place. Eyes watering, he stumbled toward the nearest exit panel and took the stairs up to the main corridor; determined to find Lily.

The walls in the brightly lit hallway seemed to be moving—shifting and warbling—going in and out of focus. The power was back on. He gripped the railing at the front entrance and leaned into it, putting one foot before the other as though they were wooden. He reached the upper floor and squinted in the brightness of the hallway. Someone was approaching him from the opposite end, moving with swift steps. Was it Hannah, coming to tell him what had happened to Lily?

His legs gave way and he fell to his knees, shoulders shaking as he began to sob. His own selfishness had killed her. If only he had banished her the very first day she'd come.

It was all his fault.

"Ian—" Hannah's voice broke through his sobs. "What happened!"

"Don't tell me—" he cried. "I don't want to hear it."

"Whatever's the matter, dear? You look terrible—what happened to your face?" She knelt down and took him into her arms as though he was a small boy, and dabbed a tissue at his cheeks. He pushed her away gently and struggled to stand up. She gripped his elbow until he'd steadied himself.

Ian blinked several times and focused on her face. She didn't seem horrified or tearful—just concerned.

She didn't know then.

Did anyone know yet?

"Why were you crying?" she asked, examining his face, one hand on her plump hip. "That's not like you at all. Is it the pain?"

He hesitated.

"It's . . . just allergies. Mold."

"Oh, nonsense. You've got blood all over your nose, bruised eyes, and you're white as a sheet."

She reached a motherly hand toward his cheek and he stepped out of the way. He didn't want anymore coddling. He had to find Lily's body before someone else did. And then he had to figure out what to do from there. People would eventually come looking for her. The police as well.

But aside from all that, how could he endure life even one more day now that she was gone?

"Ian—answer me. What happened to your face."

Her sharp words were like hammer blows to his skull. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was hungover. He pressed a palm to his temple. "I'm fine, Hannah. Just had a fall in the dark and bumped my nose."

"Well, goodness, Ian, what on earth were you doing wandering around in the dark? I thought you had a flashlight—I gave you one."

He closed his eyes, fighting back more weary tears. "Have you seen Lily?" he asked evenly, though his voice caught at the end.

"Of course, we all stayed together until the power came back on. She's in Angie's room right now."

"Lily's in . . . in Angie's room?" His eyes widened, skin tingling all over. How was this even possible? He gulped in a lungful of air to stop the dizziness and balance himself.