The dust sparkles in the dim beams of light from the soiled windows, and I trip over a sheet meant to cover a canvas, sending a stack of paintings like dominos to the floor.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?” Jake asks me.
“Probably nothing good.”
Low moans emanate from the floor and turn to shrieks with the volume down, pitiful cries from pitiful souls, all of them trapped here in their portraits.
“We never should have come in here,” Jake says.
“But we have to find dad!”
“Do you really want to find him in here?… Read the rest