His eyes had adjusted to the dim light now, and he saw the outlines of doorways from daylight squeezing through the gaps in the frames. One door was open a tiny crack; he tried to get a sense of which room it might be, or whether anyone was in it, but neither saw nor heard anything. The wailing came from a door behind him, the furthest from the stairs. To reach it, he needed to pass the door that was ajar. He crept along the hallway, the carpeted floor absorbing the sound of his footsteps. He passed two closed doors. The third was the one that was slightly open. He paused outside, pressing himself against the wall. His heart pumped like that of a frightened rabbit. A frantic whispering from inside the room made it to his ears. He strained to decipher any words, but could not. Chancing a quick look through the gap, he assessed what he saw. Wooden units, a sink, and a black-and-white tiled floor. Liquid glistened on the smooth tiles. Nearby were fragments of glass. Something had been broken and spilled, and there was a horrid smell coming from the room, briny and metallic.
