Page 40 of Drag You Down
If I move, he might choose to flee.
But I can’t get him alone if I don’t.
I carefully step aside, just enough that he can head toward the door to the basement but wouldn’t be able to dart past me to run back upstairs.
His gaze flicks to the elevators, but then he goes to a door across the room. His hand shakes as he pulls on the handle, and he shuts it once, twice, before finally opening the door all the way. He hesitates before flicking the dim light on to reveal a set of stairs that look like they’ve seen better days.
He starts down them, and I follow without crowding him, not wanting him to panic and trip.
The air becomes suffocating as we descend.
Levi’s breaths are loud and heavy.
It’s dim and dank in the basement, matching the feeling of the rest of the building. The exposed brick is chipped in some places, and now that I’m down here, I wonder if I should call a real building inspector because I’m no longer sure the building is actually safe.
There’s a single light bulb in the center of the unfinished basement room. Several boilers are set up along one wall, with exposed pipes running up into the ceiling.
I note rat droppings along one wall, but that’s not a surprise. It’d be harder to find a New Bristol apartment without rats.
“How old is this?” I ask as I look around. The exposed architecture is old and half-rusted. Levi lingers at the base of the stairs, and the adorable blush from his cheek is far gone, replaced by something deathly white.
He’s afraid.
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice strange.
I look around again, trying to find the source of his discomfort. There are no chains or whips or any obvious torture devices down here. The only thing unusual is a single wooden chair, lying on its side next to one of the boilers.
“The building is from the 1950s,” I say. “But it must have been updated since then.” I get closer to Levi and place a hand on his shoulder.
He jumps and almost stumbles backward into the stairs.
“Do you want to go back up?” I ask gently.
He’s looking at me, but I get the feeling he’s notseeingme. His lips part, but no words come out. He’s trembling, and he wraps his arms around himself, pressing them close against his chest. “I c-can’t,” he whispers, his teeth chattering so hard that I have a difficult time understanding what he’s said.
“Little lamb,” I say, cupping his jaw. “Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Just as I say those words, the flimsy lightbulb flickers.
And dies.
We’re plunged into darkness.
Levi cries out, an animalistic sound of raw terror.
“Levi,” I say.
He sobs desperately, and he slips from my grasp only to trip against the stairs. I catch him before he smashes his head against the hard concrete.
“Levi!” I scoop him up into my arms, and he shakes his head, crying out and flailing.
I end up having to hoist him over my shoulder so I can carry him up the stairs and into the light of the hallway. I almost stumble and fall myself thanks to his flailing, but he’s a lithe young man with nowhere near enough muscle on him.
When I set him down in the hallway upstairs, I look at his beautiful face and see the tears streaming down his cheeks.
The anger slams into me, but I force myself to remain calm. “Shh, boy. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“C-can’t,” he says again, shaking his head. “You need to go before?—”
