3

Allison

Every step feels like a thunderclap. Even barefoot, my heels discarded at the far end of the hall, it's like each step is loud enough to wake the dead.

I'm shocked Paul can't hear my heart racing. It's pounding in my ear, painfully loud and fast.

I reach a staircase and listen. The sounds of the wedding party murmur up toward me, but they're distant. I hear the clattering of dishes, a few shouts, a stressed conversation in Spanish.

With a deep breath, I take the stairs, going as fast as I dare.

It leads me into a back hallway. Straight ahead is a kitchen. Men and women dart around in black and white jackets, ferrying appetizer plates, cleaning glasses, ignoring everything but their tasks. To the left are a pair of doors, and beyond them is the party itself. I spot guests mingling nearby, older people I don't recognize.

To my left is another hall.

I hurry away from the party and the kitchen. The sounds recede when I turn the corner. Ahead, there's a heavy-looking door with a pu