“Erin, come sit down." Victor pleads from where he sits on the bed.
Erin ignores him and heads to Victor's closet to continue his search around Victor's room. He's convinced that there must be some hidden compartment in the walls or beneath the floorboards filled with bags of drugs.
Erin's heart pounds, the rhythm matching his frantic knocks on the floor. He refuses to entertain the idea that Victor is playing some cruel trick on him. Drugs have to be the explanation – the only explanation. Or maybe Erin really did hit his head harder than he thought on the rocks earlier and now his hearing is messed up. Werewolves? There's no way.
Victor stands from the bed and corners Erin in the closet. His eyes are dimmed, and not just from the lack of light in the closet. He looks drained with his
