Inside, the hallway was pitch black and smelled of mildew and old paper.

We stepped inside, and Adrian closed the door softly behind us.

He clicked on his flashlight, pointing the beam down the narrow corridor.

The wallpaper was peeling in long, damp strips.

We began to climb the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor.

Every step felt like it took an eternity.

My heart hammered against my ribs as we reached the landing.

The door to apartment 2B was slightly cracked open.

A thin sliver of yellow light spilled out onto the dusty floorboards.

Adrian put a finger to his lips, signaling me to stay behind him.

He pushed the door wider, the wood scraping against the frame.

The room inside was small, cluttered with old cardboard boxes and rolled-up canvases.

A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying gently.

In the center of the room, a wooden chair was knocked over on its side.

Next to it, a dark stain was spreading across the dusty hardwood floor.

I held my breath, my hand gripping Adrian’s arm.

“Marcus?” Adrian called out in a low, urgent whisper.