Page 142 of Dirty Rock

She nodded, and I began to climb the stairs as carefully as I could.

They creaked under my feet, but nobody reacted from anywhere in the house. There wasn’t a sound above. No running water, music, or quiet cries. The silence made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

Once at the top, I took a glance at Julia to see she’d closed her eyes. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. If she was praying, I wasn’t going to question it. I felt like praying, too.

I checked the first room on the right, which happened to be a white, empty study.

The second door held nobody inside it either, just a single bed with white bedding and white curtains that were far too sterile to be homely.

The third door led to a bathroom, and that was empty, too. I was surrounded by pristine white fittings that made my blackest of black clothes, worn tattoos, and dark features stand out like a notorious sinner stepping through the pearly gates of Heaven.

But there was no sign of anyone hurting themselves, which was both a relief and terrifying. If someone were going to hurt themselves, a bathroom or bedroom would be a likely place.

With two doors left, I took a deep breath.

“Sarah?” I said quietly, not wanting to scare her. “Sarah, if you’re up here, I need you to know I’m here to help. It’s Rhett. Rhett Ryan?” I offered her my name like it would bring peace when all my name had ever delivered was disaster and carnage—too much noise and too many mistakes.

No response came back.

I opened the fourth door to find it empty. A double bed sat in the middle of the room—a room decorated completely white apart from two pale pink scatter cushions in the middle of the bed.

My chest deflated, and all the air left my lungs in a hurry.

I spun on the heels of my boots and made my way to the final door. When I pushed it open carefully, I saw the cot first.

A huge, oak cot that took up most of the floor space.

Inside it laid a human figure, curled up into a ball with a cushion pressed tightly to their chest and a halo of blonde hair covering her face.

“Sarah?”

A sniff was her only response. She didn’t even look up.

My lips parted to call for Julia, and I half turned in her direction before the memory of those sad eyes flashed through my mind.

She’d been clinging onto love and saving those around her, her entire life.

I didn’t want her to see this. I didn’t want her to grieve again and to have to piece her sister back together while she broke herself apart.

“Shit,” I mouthed, before I turned back into the nursery and slowly made my way over to the cot Sarah was lying in.

My chest ached for the broken human curled up in a ball like a baby. Too weak to speak. Too lost to know she wasn’t supposed to be there.

I wasn’t supposed to be there either. This room was untainted. Untouched and meant for an innocent newborn to call its home. Not me with my heavy, black boots and my cigarette smelling jacket.

Running my hands along the edge of the cot, I stopped in Sarah’s direct line of sight, and I bent at the knees until I was down at her level.

“Hey, Sarah,” I said softly.

I heard her swallow, and her vacant brown eyes moved around the space between us before she looked up at my face.

All I could do was smile with the sympathy I felt.

“Hi,” I whispered. “Don’t be scared. I know you don’t know me, but I’m here to help, I promise.”

“W-what are you…?”

I pushed a hand through the bars of the cot and left it lying in between us. An offer of affection if she wanted it. Something she could touch to remind her she wasn’t alone.

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