Act II

I rushed into the mansion with Masha close behind, my heart pounding as I searched for the source of the scream. It had been Sasha's voice, sharp and panicked, cutting through the silence like a knife. I called out her name as soon as we crossed the threshold, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Sasha! SASHA!"

No response. Just as my anxiety began to spike, her voice came again, faint but steady. "I'm over here."

I followed the sound to the study, a room lined with towering bookshelves and heavy wooden furniture. The air felt heavier here, as if the walls themselves were pressing in. At first glance, the room seemed empty, but then Sasha's voice echoed from an unexpected direction. "Behind the bookshelf."

I stepped closer, my pulse quickening as I peered behind the massive structure. Sasha stood on a narrow staircase that descended into darkness, her face pale in the dim light. A faint, cold draft wafted up from below, carrying with it a smell that made my stomach churn—mildew, yes, but something else too, something metallic and sharp.

"Can you believe it?" Sasha whispered, her voice trembling despite her attempt at excitement. "This place has an underground room."

I stared into the abyss, my heart pounding. The darkness seemed to pulse, as if alive, and for a moment, I thought I heard something—a faint, rhythmic sound, like footsteps echoing from deep below.

Before I could respond, the others filed into the study. Maya, Hendrick, and Martin must have noticed Masha standing by the bookshelf, or perhaps she had pointed them in our direction. Either way, they were suddenly crowding around me, their presence making the room feel even smaller.

"Are you okay?" Maya asked, her voice tight with concern.

"Is that an underground room? Sick!" Martin said, his eyes lighting up.

"I know, right?" Sasha replied, ignoring my glare. "I was checking out some of the books, and one of them triggered this mechanism. The shelf just slid open, and I freaked out."

"Which book?" Hendrick asked, his tone curious.

"I think it was Catch-22," Sasha said.

"Where does it lead?" Martin pressed.

"I haven't looked yet."

"Can we explore?" Sasha asked, her eyes darting to Maya, who in turn looked to Hendrick. He exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible smile with Martin before nodding.

Before Maya could respond, I stepped in. "No! Absolutely not!" I said, my voice firm. "Are you guys insane? This isn't our house. We can't just go snooping around. How am I the voice of reason right now?"

"Are you saying you're not curious about what the Whites are hiding down there?" Martin challenged.

I was. Of course I was. But I had the decency to keep that to myself.

"Not even a little," I lied. "And even if I were, it doesn't matter. We're here to clean, not play detective."

"Okay, spoilsport," Martin muttered.

"Very mature," I shot back. "Did you forget why we're here in the first place?"

I reached out to Sasha, helping her up from the staircase. Masha, ever the quiet observer, carefully replaced Catch-22 on the shelf. The mechanism whirred softly, the sound unnaturally smooth, as if the gears hadn't been used in years. The bookshelf slid back into place with a satisfying click that echoed through the room.

Cool. But also terrifying.

The group drifted back to the living room, but I stayed behind for a moment, my nerves still on edge. I stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it with trembling hands. The cool evening air helped steady me, but my thoughts were still racing.

Sasha joined me a moment later, her presence quiet but unmistakable. She held out her hand, and I passed her the cigarette without a word. She took a drag, exhaling slowly before handing it back.

"Since when do you smoke?" she asked, her tone casual but probing.

"Since when do you smoke?" I countered, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed softly, the sound almost lost in the evening breeze. "You know, this is the longest conversation we've had since you got back from rehab."

"Is it?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"You've been distant," she said, her voice softening. "I miss having my best friend. And I know Maya misses her sister."

I didn't respond immediately, my gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

"Do you hate me?" Sasha asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I turned to look at her, surprised. "Why would I hate you?"

"Because I was the one who told Maya and the principal about your addiction."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't hate you for that."

"So you do hate me," she said, her tone half-joking but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

"I don't hate you," I said firmly. "But I've been avoiding the clubhouse for a reason."

"Is it because of me and Martin?" she asked, her voice tentative.

"It's Hendrick," I said bluntly. "I can't stand his face."

Sasha gave me a look, her eyes narrowing. "Why can't you be serious for once?"

"I am serious," I said, though my tone was lighter than I intended. "But fine. The school counselor thinks I blame him."

"Blame him for what?" Sasha asked, her brow furrowing. Then her eyes widened in realization. "He's the one who introduced you to drugs, isn't he?"

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. "Isn't he?" she pressed, louder this time.

"Yes," I admitted, the word heavy with unspoken resentment.

Sasha's face darkened, and she turned on her heel, storming back toward the mansion. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

"Let me go!" she snapped, her voice sharp.

"Why? So you can punch Hendrick? What good would that do?"

"You have no idea the things he's said about you," Sasha said, her voice trembling with anger. "He acts like it was all your fault, like he had nothing to do with it. If only I'd known the truth."

I looked away, my chest tightening. "It doesn't matter what he says. I made my choices."

"But he made them easier," she shot back, her voice breaking. "He knew what he was doing. And now he acts like he's better than you, like he's some kind of saint."

I didn't respond, my gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun was sinking lower, casting long shadows across the lawn. "Maybe he is better than me," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't change anything. I'm still here. And I'm still trying."

Sasha stared at me for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. "Fine."

"Thank you," I said, offering her a small smile. "Evelyn sure is taking her time with those groceries, huh?" I added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Sasha said, though her tone was still distant.

I sighed and sat down on the ground, the grass surprisingly soft beneath me. "Sit with me," I said, patting the spot beside me. Sasha hesitated before joining me, her shoulders still tense.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The air was cool, and for a moment, everything felt almost peaceful.

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