A voice moaned, “Gertrude.”
He groaned as he got up off the floor.
“Topher?”
Nothing.
“Zorn? Marvin?”
The knob turned again, even less than before. A light slap against the bottom of the door. A whine.
Gertrude could barely stand. He heaved for breath, the floor spun, and he was suddenly sick. When he was done, he stood to his full height and took a deep breath. He could leave. He could hide out in the secret room until the morning, and then when the sun was firm and high in the sky he could gather his things and try his luck escaping on his own. He did fine before he met Topher, better in fact. There was no reason to stick around for him, stick around this place. This was the same boy who killed his own parents. Killed Zorn’s parents. Tried to kill his mother, maimed his father. Who
