Page 160 of Bound By Crimson
When she finally reached the bottom and opened the door to her bedroom, a gust of cool air rushed toward her—along with the sight she’d been dreading.
The wallpaper.
It lay in a crumpled heap across her bedroom floor, pale pink roses and vines twisted and torn where she’d peeled it back to reveal the hidden attic door.
The glue had given up completely.
The paper sagged and curled like it had been holding its breath for years—and now it had collapsed.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
She hurried to her bed, shoved the journal, the photograph, and the birth certificate beneath the mattress with frantic hands.
Then she turned back to the paper.
How am I going to fix this?
She could already feel her pulse climbing again. Her cheeks burned.
I’m going to get caught.
She couldn’t let Mrs. Thornwick find out she’d been up there.
Not yet.
Not until she understood what she’d stumbled into.
She needed water.
Something to reactivate the glue—at least enough to make it look intact.
She padded into the small bathroom off her bedroom, grabbed a sponge from beneath the sink, and filled a shallow bowl with lukewarm water.
Her hands shook as she carried it back in.
She carefully knelt first, trying to line up the torn pieces.
But nothing wanted to cooperate.
Her belly made it hard to lean the way she needed to.
She stood, grabbed the chair from her desk, and climbed up slowly, one hand braced against the wall.
Her body ached from the strain.
Soak. Press. Hold.
She worked in awkward silence, sweat beading along her hairline, trying not to lose her balance.
Her arms burned from the effort.
The sponge dripped down her wrist, soaking her sleeve.
She pressed the wallpaper to the wall, trying to align the pattern, to make it disappear again.
It stuck—sloppy, but it stuck.
Then she stepped back and realized one of the panels was upside down.
