The tight spiral staircase corkscrewed up from the marble floors. Each riser a chamber in a nautilus shell, compact and uniform. Sound contorted, ricocheting off the ceiling then down again.
In her youth, the circling bannister was her playground. Laughter filled the stairwell instead of the angry din she was dodging now. Trying to get ahead of the onslaught, she raced up the cold, stone steps.
Waning chandelier candles guttered, casting faltering shadows on the walls. Phantoms chased her higher and higher, their screeches assaulting her from every direction.
Caught up in a maelstrom of madness, there was no escape.