Ivan's steps thundered against the wooden stairs as he climbed, his heart racing faster than his feet. Every breath he took burned, as though fire filled his chest. His hands shook violently as he pushed open the first door.
It was only a store, filled with bags of flour and tools. He slammed it shut and moved on. His body was weak but the fear in him pushed him forward.
He tried the next door. Empty.
His throat tightened, sweat already wetting his hair. His legs nearly gave way under him, but he did not stop. He forced himself to the last door at the end of the hall.
His hand paused only for a second before he pushed it open.
The sight broke him.
There, lying on the bed, was Lydia.
His knees almost gave way as he stepped inside. The room was quiet except for her weak breathing. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen and red, the skin on her cheeks streaked with dried tears. Her lips trembled slightly even in sleep, as if she had been crying in her dreams too.
