Eyes for Adrian Part Two Chapter Nine – The Key
266 Words
Sleep was worse than impossible now. Every creak of the old house sounded like footsteps. Every shift of the wind seemed to whisper my name.
By the third sleepless night, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed answers.
I remembered the locked door the one to the room with the photographs. Adrian had never said where he kept the key. But I’d noticed something: he always carried a silver ring of them in his jacket pocket, the one he left draped over the arm of the library chair after late-night reading.
That night, when the house was silent, I crept down the hall.
The library smelled faintly of leather and wood polish. Adrian’s jacket was exactly where I’d hoped. My hands shook as I reached into the pocket, the cold jingle of keys making my breath catch.
It took three tries before I found the right one.
Inside, the room was as I remembered stark, clinical. But this time I didn’t stop at the table. I opened drawers, flipped through files.
Names. Dates. Photographs of other people women I didn’t know. Some files ended abruptly, as if the stories inside them had been cut short.
And then I found the one marked Ever B.
Inside was my entire life school records, medical files, even letters I’d written to friends but never sent. At the back, a thin envelope.
Inside that envelope was a small brass key. And taped to it, a note in Adrian’s precise handwriting:
“When you’re ready to leave, use this. But know that if you do… you’ll never be safe again.”
- Writer
