CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sarah walks up to her and Peter’s door, twisting the ring handle, and pushes. The door doesn't move. Why would it be locked? She pushes harder with both hands. It opens, sending her to the floor. Palms stinging, cut throbbing, she pushes herself onto, yet again, aching knees. At least it wasn’t hard enough to cut them this time. Slinging her head upward, she meets Peter's extended hand; fingertips almost touching her nose.
Peter puts the other hand on the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry. I heard the handle and got up. I didn't know you were pushing the door. Are you okay?" He grabs her uncut hand, helping her to her feet.
Sarah brushes the dirt from her crimson dress, braid swinging over her shoulder. Its auburn tip drags the stone. She looks up at him, meeting bloodsh
