TWISTED DESTINY

1. Sofia

I desire to be fictional.

The scent of book is more captivating than thousands of flowers. The sentences written on a pages are realer than verbal talks.

The places, the faces, the touches and witches. Everything inside that tiny thing feels real.

I wonder how those characters must feel.

Trapped in the story forever. Living the same life again and again and again.

How must they feel?

The doorbell jingled when someone have pushed open the old, cracking door of library. The sound was barely audible since there was rain pouring like sky has chosen to become a waterfall.

I was sitting in this old library near Uncle Josh's house which is also my second house.

A library that is seventy years old and has no owner but is public now. But no one except an old lady named Martha and me visits here. It's always empty and quiet. Just the way I like it.

Old books, rusty doors, old and dark furniture with vintage and dark interior. Dim, flickering yellow lanterns, old shelves and ladders connected to them, huge windows with tinted glass and black stone walls. Everything about this library is perfect and old. Even the roses in the vases are dried here.

Sometimes Martha brings fresh roses and decorate the vases around the library but she only visits once or twice in a week. By the time she visits again, the roses turns black.

.

A small whistle voice echoed in library as the foot step sound enhanced when the library door closed.

Who else can be here at this hour and in this much rain?

It definitely isn't Martha because she never visits on weekends or at late evenings. Then who is it?

I got up from the dark corner I always sit in and walked towards the lobby. I was alone in the library for god's sake, I don't want a thief or a serial killer to intrude in.

I tip toed towards the library front and suddenly the lights went out. The flickering yellow lights turned off and gulped the place into dark. The silence of inside and noise of the raindrops knocking on the concrete roof mixed together to send shivers down my heart.

I hope it's not a serial killer doing.

Because I have read in many books,

Serial killers turns off the lights, scare their pray and make them beg for a life before killing.

I should seriously stop reading thrillers and horrors.

I slowly snuck to the front by hiding behind the shelf and found someone standing near the counter. The outside light was brightening the front enough to see what was the person doing but I couldn't see the face. I just saw-

He tossed off his sweatshirt off of his head in one go and put it on the counter. His back was facing me when he rubbed off the water from his hair. The bare minimum light falling inside from the window only enhanced his bare skin.

Broad shoulders with finely carved biceps, tiny waist that looks like Greek sculptor have carved it and legs wrapped into formal Korean pant.

My eyes stuck on that work of art for no reason while I keep hiding behind the shelf since I don't know who he is-

He turned around and his face revealed.

.

What?