I turned the brass thumb-turn lock.

It clicked, a small, fragile sound compared to the heavy electronic deadbolt downstairs.

The room was dark and smelled strongly of lavender and old paper.

From the corner of the room, a soft, dry cough sounded.

I froze, my hand still resting on the doorknob.

Eleanor’s bed was positioned against the far wall, directly beneath the window.

A shaft of moonlight fell across her pale face, making her look incredibly thin.

Her white hair was loose and wild around her shoulders.

“Nathan?” she whispered, her voice raspy and thin.

“No, Eleanor, it’s Sarah,” I said, walking quickly to her bedside.

I kept Lily close to my side, her hand still gripped tightly in mine.

Eleanor blinked, her eyes watery and unfocused in the pale light.

Outside the door, I heard the hallway floorboards creak.

Nathan was standing right outside.

“Sarah,” his voice came through the hollow wood of the door, muffled but distinct.

“Open the door, please.”

“We need to discuss Eleanor’s medication.”

I ignored him, kneeling down beside Eleanor’s bed.

“Eleanor, I need your help,” I whispered, looking directly into her eyes.