Chapter 9 – Shadows in the Library
553 Words
The house was silent, but silence here never meant safety. Luna crept down the stairs barefoot, her heart hammering so hard she feared it would give her away.
The old wood groaned beneath her weight, each step a betrayal.
She paused at the bottom, straining to listen. Nothing—just the soft hum of the storm outside.
But she knew she had heard footsteps.
The library door loomed at the end of the hall, half-closed, a strip of pale light cutting across the floor. Luna swallowed hard and pushed it open.
The room smelled of dust and candle wax, the shadows deepened by the flicker of a single flame left burning on the desk.
No one was there.
At least… no one she could see.
Her eyes scanned the shelves, the heavy curtains, the long table. Everything looked untouched. But on the desk sat an open book, its pages ruffled as though someone had just turned them.
Luna stepped closer, her trembling fingers brushing the yellowed paper. It wasn’t just any book. It was a journal.
And written across the inside cover, in slanted handwriting, was a name she didn’t recognize.
Julia Hayes.
Her stomach knotted. Hayes—like her aunt. Like Rick.
She flipped a page. The ink was faded but legible.
I don’t feel safe anymore. He watches me constantly. He says he loves me, but it feels like a cage. Sometimes I think he’ll never let me leave.
The words blurred as Luna’s pulse thundered in her ears. She turned another page, faster this time.
I tried to tell Marjorie once, but she dismissed it. Said he was only protective. But it isn’t protection when you can’t breathe.
Luna’s breath caught. Her eyes darted toward the door, terrified she’d hear footsteps again.
The last entry chilled her more than the cold air:
If anything happens to me, it will be his fault. Rick isn’t who he pretends to be.
The candle flickered violently, throwing the room into shifting shadows. Luna snapped the journal shut, clutching it to her chest.
That was when she heard it—
The creak of a floorboard behind her.
She spun around, her breath frozen in her throat.
Rick stood in the doorway.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned like coals in the half-light.
“What are you doing in here?” His voice was calm—too calm.
Luna’s fingers tightened on the journal, instinctively hiding it behind her back. “I—I couldn’t sleep. I just came to get a book.”
Rick stepped closer, slow, deliberate, his shadow stretching long across the floor.
“You should’ve asked me.”
Her body locked in place.
His hand brushed the journal, and for one terrifying moment, she thought he’d rip it away. But instead, he plucked another random book from the shelf and pressed it into her hands.
“Here,” he murmured. “This one is better.”
His eyes lingered on hers, and she felt it—the unspoken warning. He knew.
“Go back to bed, Luna,” Rick said softly. “It’s late.”
She obeyed, her knees trembling, the journal hidden beneath her nightgown.
But as she climbed the stairs, one thought echoed louder than her fear:
Julia Hayes had lived here once. And she hadn’t survived.
- Writer
