Celia had already called out Phoebe's name half a dozen times through the heavy wood, but her voice was met with nothing but a haunting, hollow silence. Panic clawing at her throat, she began to beat her fist against the door in a frantic, uneven rhythm.
"Phoebe! If you don't answer me right now, I'm breaking this goddamn door down!" Celia yelled, her voice echoing sharply down the corridor. She was entirely done playing polite. The agonizing suspense was suffocating her, and the silence was driving her insane.
Without waiting another second, Celia grabbed the brass handle. To her immense relief, Phoebe had been too consumed by her downward spiral to even remember to turn the lock. The door swung open, and the breath was instantly knocked straight out of Celia's lungs.
