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He’s walking up to tower one.
This never happens. Never.
For the past month, I’ve always caught Zach climbing down the stairs but never climbing up.
Oh my God, this is my chance. A chance to find out what’s going on.
On second thought, it’s none of my business. He’s never revealed anything to me. I mean, if he wanted me to know he would’ve told me.
But then, on third thought, maybe it’s a sign.
Maybe what’s happening to him up there is just so horrifying that he can’t talk about it and this is my chance to find out. I bet whatever it is, his dad is definitely involved.
And if I’m right, then I’m going to fuck him up and I’m not even kidding.
He’s the reason Zach has felt so rejected all these years. He’s the reason Zach is filled with so much resentment and anger.
Mr. Prince is a bully and isn’t it my duty to stand up for Zach against him? Stand up for what’s right?
My legs start moving before I’ve even finished my thought.
I’m supposed to get to tower three and tend to guests, but Tina’s up there now and she can hold down the fort a little longer without me.
I quickly climb up the steps lest anyone pass through and ruin my plan.
The hallway with its flanked rooms looks much the same as any other tower. Although I will say that it’s awfully white. And the overhead lights? They are glaring.
It’s a harsh hallway. I instantly dislike it.
Of all the rooms, there’s the second one on the right with its door ajar, and I walk up to it.
Through the slice of an opening, I see someone.
A woman.
She’s small. Rail-thin and weak. She has a peach-colored gown on and her head’s wrapped up in a beige scarf. She’s propped up in the bed, blankets covering her lower body.
Something about her is so familiar and I don’t realize what it is until she takes a breath, smiles slightly, and then begins coughing.
It’s Mrs. Prince, Zach’s mother.
It starts with a gentle cough that becomes harsher and more violent until she has to come off her pillows and cough into a napkin.
A napkin given to her by Zach.
I almost fall into the door with shock but thankfully catch myself. Although I do push at it gently so as to widen the gap so I can see clearly.
Zach’s bending over her, his hand on her back, rubbing in circles, soothing her, and his mom’s fingers are clawed over his other wrist for support. A few seconds later, her coughing fit goes away and she lies back down.
I can hear her ragged, noisy breathing as she tries to relax.
Zach throws away the napkin in an unseen trashcan, I think, before coming back to the bed with a glass of water. His mom dutifully takes it but still, he keeps holding it. Maybe because he thinks she can’t handle it. And from the looks of it, she can’t.
I still can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Didn’t I see her all made up and healthy at that dinner party with the Howards a few weeks ago?
Right now, she looks run-down. She’s still beautiful but her cheeks are sunken. There are dark patches on her skin. Her lips are chapped and there’s a bony, diseased quality in her demeanor.
