Chapter 9 - The Golden Threshold
Elena gripped the heavy bronze handle of the left door.
With a hard, violent yank, she pulled it open.
The dying sun crashed into the foyer.
Thick, golden hour light spilled across the Italian tiles, painting the walls in violent shades of orange and blood-red.
The heat of the late afternoon air rushed in, sweeping away the smell of stale food.
Elena stepped outside onto the grand stone portico.
She held the door open, waiting.
Martha stepped out past her, blinking rapidly against the harsh, beautiful light, taking her first full breath in hours.
Behind them, the young couple spilled out of the dark hallway.
They looked feral.
The man’s shirt was twisted, his hair a mess; the woman’s robe was dragging through the dirt on the stone steps.
They stumbled out onto the porch, gasping for the fresh air, squinting at the sun.
"What is wrong with you?" the young woman spat, clutching her robe tight.
Elena stepped backward.
She stepped over the threshold, moving back into the cool, dark interior of the foyer.
May you like
She left them on the outside.
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