She pulls the door back a fraction of an inch; just enough to peer outside. An unearthly chill, more than just the bone-chilling cold of November, seeps through the crack. The landing outside is dark; the peculiar concentration of shadows by the railing defies even the strongest moonlight. She shivers, her breath forming frozen clouds in the still air.

There’s no one there there’s no one there there’s no one there

The words run together as one as they tumble through her head. She swallows hard, and bites her lip to ground herself through pain. Mustering a handful of tattered shreds of courage from some forgotten part of her psyche, she throws open the door. The landing is still empty, but she darts across to the opposite wall. She slams her fist against the switch, and impassive electric light floods the space. She can see nothing out of the huge window above the stairs, but she senses a flicker of movement in the mirror to her left. She begins to descend before the timer kicks in and the light snaps off.

She isn’t quick enough. The light goes out and the stairs are plunged into darkness. She hears the creaking of an old rope swinging from the railing above her, and once again the sad blonde woman fills her thoughts. She freezes, her hand gripping the banister. Half of her wants to run back upstairs and throw herself into the warmth of her room. The other half longs to go downstairs, to reach the next light switch.

One word races through her mind.

Suicide…

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