Chapter 23 Secrets on the Third Floor
DAVID
“How dare you?” My voice cut through the silence as I caught sight of Bella, swaying slightly as she stood at the entrance to the third-floor corridor. I had warned her more than once. Why couldn’t she listen?
I reached out, my hand circling her wrist with a controlled but firm grip. Her eyes met mine with a hazy defiance, lips curving slightly upward as though she found the situation amusing. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice a sharp whisper. "I told you to stay away."
Her gaze wavered, catching the dim light in the hallway as she tried to pull back. "You don’t get to tell me what I know," she muttered, a faint slur in her words as she stumbled again, nearly falling before I steadied her. Strands of her hair framed her flushed face, and she smirked, her eyes slightly glazed.
"You’ve been drinking." I spoke it as a fact, a simmering annoyance tightening my grip momentarily.
"I… didn’t drink," she mumbled, though her words betrayed her. She looked down, and for a second, her expression shifted, a vulnerability breaking through. "My dad… he’s sick. In a coma… for years. And I haven’t visited him since I moved here." Her voice dropped, eyes glistening with tears. "I’m a terrible daughter… a bad child." She looked up at me, and a fresh wave of guilt rippled through her gaze. "You think he hates me now? I need to see him I need to go, right now."
Without warning, she pulled free and stumbled toward the stairs. I lunged, catching her again, my irritation tempered only by the desperation in her face. Her body fell against mine, and she looked up, studying me with an intensity I couldn’t quite read. "You’re so handsome," she whispered, leaning closer. "I feel like… kissing you."
The intensity between us simmered, then she froze, a faint nausea crossing her face. I pulled back, letting go just in time as she closed her eyes, breathing unevenly.
BELLA
A sharp shaft of sunlight cut through my room, stabbing my already aching head. I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain behind them pulsing as I shifted on the bed. My pajamas felt wrong when did I even change? Fragments of last night slipped through the haze, pieces of the third floor, David’s steady gaze, the words I barely remembered uttering.
I crept to the door, hoping he’d left, only to hear his voice as I peered around the corner.
“Are you hiding from your mistakes?” He leaned against the wall, a trace of amusement in his gaze.
I straightened, heat rising in my cheeks. “Come in,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady as he walked into the room.
David handed me a glass of water and a few pills. "Take these. You’ll need them after your little escapade last night." He smirked. "You’re lucky I didn’t record the whole thing."
My face grew warmer, remembering snippets of my drunken confession. “Who… changed my clothes?” I asked, glancing down, realizing for the first time just how much I didn’t remember.
“I did,” he replied, watching me with a slight grin as my eyes widened.
"Why would you?"
"Unless you wanted to sleep in that disaster of an outfit…" he trailed off, one eyebrow raised. He straightened, his tone turning businesslike. "Take the day to rest. I’ll notify the director."
Before I could respond, he turned and left, leaving me caught between embarrassment and frustration. My fingers tightened around the blanket as the memory of last night returned, a thrill of curiosity sparking beneath the headache. There had been something… something important I needed to remember.
The third floor. Whatever he was hiding there, I needed to know. As soon as he was gone, I’d go back. This time, with a clear mind. Whatever he’d tried so hard to keep from me, I was done being told what to do.