Chapter 6 - The Doors Did Not Sound Hollow
Evelyn had gone upstairs to run water. I could hear the pipes knock over our heads, then settle.
Milo waited until the bathroom door clicked shut. Then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hallway fast, past the trim where I used to put my hand. The light felt lower than before, warm and close to the floor.
We stopped in front of the double doors.
Up close they were taller than I remembered. The wood was almost black in that light, with small scratches near the bottom. The brass handles were cold-looking and too high for me to reach without standing on my toes.
Milo did not look at me at first. He looked at the gap between the doors.
"Stand here," he whispered. "If you hear her steps, pinch me."
I nodded and stood sideways so I could see back toward the stairs. My socks slid a little on the dark floor.
Milo wiped his palm on his dark top, then wrapped his hand around the left handle. He tried to turn it slow, like he did not want it to click. Nothing moved. He tried harder, his shoulders lifting, and the brass made a small dry sound but did not turn.
"Locked," he breathed.
He moved to the right handle and tried that one. Same thing. He jiggled it once, then stopped himself and held it still, listening to see if the rattle had carried upstairs. The pipes were still running.
He crouched down and put his eye close to the keyholes. There were two, one on each door, dark and filled in. He touched the left one with his fingertip.
"No key in it," he said. "Both locked from the other side, maybe."
I stared at the tear in the wallpaper to the left of the doors. In the dim light the red flowers looked brown. The torn edge hung a little looser than yesterday. I did not want to look straight at the hair.
Milo saw me looking. "Don't," he said. "Doors first."
He pressed his knuckles against the left door and knocked, very soft. Two taps. The sound did not echo. It stopped short, like hitting a pillow.
He frowned and knocked on the right door the same way. Same dull stop.
"That's not a room," he whispered. "Rooms sound empty."
He motioned me closer. "Put your ear here. Right on the crack. Tell me if you hear anything."
I shook my head before I could stop myself.
Milo knelt so his face was level with mine. "I know you're scared. Just for three seconds. I'll count."
My breathing was too loud in my own ears. I leaned in and pressed the side of my head against the cold wood where the two doors met. The varnish smelled old and dusty. I held my breath.
At first there was only the pipes. Then, under that, something else.
A thin in and out. Slow. Like someone trying not to be heard.
I jerked back.
Milo caught my arm. "What?"
I put my finger to my lips because my throat would not work. Then I pointed at the crack.
He put his own ear to it. He stayed there longer than I did, his eyes open and fixed on the floor. His jaw moved once. Then he pulled back and nodded fast.
"Breathing," he mouthed.
My stomach went tight. I looked at the wallpaper tear again and then back at the doors. The sound could have been coming from behind the wood or from inside the wall beside it. I couldn't tell. It felt close either way.
Milo ran his hand down the edge of the left door, where the wood met the trim. His fingers stopped near the middle. He leaned in and squinted.
"Look," he said, pulling me down beside him.
In the low light there was a faint line in the paint along the frame. A straight, older edge, a little yellower than the rest, running all the way up. Like the doors had once been painted shut, then cut open and painted again.
"See that?" He traced it without touching. "They sealed these. Then somebody wanted them to look normal."
I touched the line. It was smooth under my finger, buried under new paint. I thought of Evelyn's pulled-back hair and her stern face from that first night, standing in front of us like she was guarding something.
Above us the water stopped. The pipes knocked once.
Milo stood up fast. "She's done."
We both stepped back from the doors at the same time. I wiped my cheek where the wood had left a cold spot.
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The bathroom door opened upstairs. Evelyn's steps started toward the stairs, even and unhurried.
Milo grabbed my hand hard. We did not run. We just stood there looking at the locked brass handles while her shadow hit the top step.
