The Secrets Within Pages

Villian

Cold droplets of rain shower down on me. I run through town, puddles splashing under my fast steps.

How?

How could good, knowledgeable, kind professor be a murderer?

How could he be capable of something like this?

And how could I have been so blind as to have ignored even the possibility of it?

I wonder if Vivian knew.

She couldn't have. She wouldn't have stayed with him if she did, right?

I peer inside to see warm lit candles as the elderly converse and play cards.

What a beautifully cosy life.

But they've lived their lives. Waylen didnt get to. And even then, those who find themselves folded in the pages of books, who live and breathe literature- we are the hardest to keep content and that, that is our torment.

As lovely as it sounds, a life in a quaint little nursing home wasn't enough.

I push open the doors, more aggressively then I intended and am greeted by that same receptionist. "Ah Miss Bubbles, fancy seeing your uncle?" She asks. We both know I'm not his niece but I'm grateful she keeps up with the gimmick.

I nod quickly, stepping in front of her desk. "Room 50." She says, giving me a visitor pass.

"50? Last time I was here he was just in room 20." I question, looking at the card.

"Not that its any of your business, Mr.Chamberlain requested a more... isolated room. You could understand why. Barely has any visitors, seems everything died the day the rest of him did." She explains sincerely.

I look away, nodding slowly. "Speaking of, does he get any visitors beside me?"

"About a year ago, some man. And then a couple days ago another bloke." She mentions.

I bite the inside of my cheek, cracking my knuckles. "Alright, thank you..."

"Fern."

"Thank you, Fern." I say before heading down the hall to an elevator.

In a daze of concerning questions, I press the button and wait. The doors open to reveal a tall man, he gives me a polite smile, "Going up?"

Nodding my head, I enter.

I stand in the corner, harsh lighting atop us. I sneak a look at him, tall, older with a buzz cut and he wears a large silver ring with something black engraved on it.

"Crazy weather we're having, don't you think?" He says with a smile.

I look up, "Yes, very rainy."

"What floor?" He asks.

I didn't know what to say. I'm alone in an elevator with a stranger, who could undoubtedly overtake me.

I ignore him.

"Right. Sorry." He amends.

Before I had to acknowledge the awkwardness, the doors open. Thankfully, I see room 50 and rush out the door.

It was cold and dark. In stark contrast to the warmth of the lower floors. As though it were an attic, there were no other rooms. I grip my bag as I walk up to the door.

Hesitantly, I force up my arm and knock on the door.

Once.

Twice.

"What do you want?! I said I'd ring if I needed anything!" An old, angry voice bellows.

I twist the doorknob and the door creaks open, revealing that lonely old man sitting in his wheelchair, gazing out his large window as moonlight pours in.