Short Story: Noise

Too much noise.

I wander through the mansion, trying to find some way to distance myself from the sweaty crowd. The place is massive; halls embellished with large-scale paintings, people scattered around every nook and cranny of the first floor. No matter how far I stray, however, the music persists. Its bass boosted to the maximum. Its rhythm drilled into my ears.

After losing and retracing my footsteps time and time again, I find a staircase leading to the second floor. Its entrance is sealed with string, taped to the edges of the railings, hanging up a thin piece of paper. Written on it were the words "STAY ON THE FIRST FLOOR" in large, capital letters.

"Don't mind me," I mumble, ducking underneath the sign.
I shouldn’t be doing this. 
Definitely an invasion of privacy.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I don't even know the owner of this place.
I shouldn’t be doing this.

Muffled cries intensify my worries. My heartbeat starts to overpower the bass. As I stepped onto the second story, chills shiver down my spine at the sound of another cry. Then another. A louder one follows, coming from the farthest room down the hall. Careful not to cause any sound, I make my way towards the door. It opens with a creak, making me flinch in response.

The door reveals a bathroom and a puddle, smearing the floor red. For a half second, I see the mouth which the cries originated from. I near the victim, wanting to help, but I cannot. A solid metal item slams into my head and I fall to the hard, blood-covered ceramic floor. I hear a gasp.

Then, silence.

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