Corrupting Lily

Chapter 1

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Lily

Six months ago

Finally, I see the door to the stairwell. If I can make it to the basement, I can maybe slip out through the staff exit. The same one we used months ago when I needed to get to the hospital inconspicuously. Reaching the stairwell door, I push against it with the left side of my body, silently cursing as the door handle jabs my bruised ribs.

I never hated that we lived in the penthouse on the top floor—not until this moment, as I peer through my one eye at the start of the flight of stairs leading to my freedom, fifteen floors up from my destination.

"You have to do this," I mumble to myself, my scratchy voice sounding foreign to my ears. All the screaming and crying have left my throat dry and hoarse. Progress is slow, with every step making me dizzy. It's not until a female voice pierces the silence of the stairwell that I know I am close to the ground floor.

"You know I hate elevators. Do you remember that time we went to Padre's place and got stuck in that elevator for three hours? Not fucking happening again," the woman says, laughing as a deep chuckle accompanies hers.

"At least you are only on the third floor. Else, there is no fucking way I would be entertaining the idea. I should just take the elevator and meet you there," a man's voice responds, amusement in his tone.

"Stop moaning, il vecchio. The exercise will do you good." The woman's words are accompanied by the stairwell door closing behind them.

They are two flights down, meaning I need to backtrack more than a floor to avoid discovery. Pivoting on my heel, I inhale sharply as another wave of dizziness assaults me. I lower myself gently to my knees, afraid I will fall over. Slowly, I start crawling up the steps.

"What the fuck!" I literally jump, the woman's voice now directly behind me.

"Who did this to you?" she asks, her hand touching my shoulder, causing me to flinch unconsciously.

"I'm fine. Just go," I reply, my voice unchanged from earlier. Still unrecognizable.

"You're definitely not fine. Let me get the security. They can call the cops," the man suggests, his tone now hard. All humor from before is gone, as if it never existed.

"NO! No police!" I didn't mean for it to come out as a shout, nor did I think I had one left in me, but apparently, I do as the protest echoes off the walls.

"I'll be fine. I just need to get to the basement. There is a staff exit there. Once I'm out, he can't find me," I whisper, desperation making me reveal too much. And who was I kidding? I wouldn't make it two steps before he or one of his lackeys found me. Delusion was my only hope at this point.

"Who? Who will find you?" The woman's voice is gentle, but I can't trust anyone. I push myself up, ready to continue.

"Your arm, you've lost too much blood. You're not going to make it down another flight of stairs, let alone three," the man says, reaching for me as I start swaying.

As the tears I have held back finally fall, so do I. Into the welcoming abyss that is darkness. Perhaps this is where I would live from now on—in the shadows, where death resides.