I don't know how I ended up at the library again.
It was 4 AM.
Fairhill was supposed to be asleep.
But I wasn't.
I wasn't even sure I existed in that moment.
The lights inside flickered faintly—like someone had been there just seconds ago.
The door creaked open on its own.
Of course it did.
---
Inside, the library was darker than I remembered.
Dust floated like ash. The shelves leaned like broken teeth.
And yet… it didn't feel abandoned.
It felt… waiting.
At the center—was him.
Mr. Thorne.
Sitting behind the desk like always. But this time, he wasn't reading.
He was staring straight at me.
> "You've been quiet," he said.
"But your silence is loud."
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
---
He stood, slowly.
Books fell off the shelves behind him as he walked—
no breeze, no movement. Just gravity folding.
> "What do you want?" I finally asked.
He tilted his head.
> "That's the wrong question. The real one is: who's asking it?"
---
I clenched my fists.
> "You know something about Eli, don't you?"
He nodded.
> "I know something about all of them. Eli. Nathan. Even the boy you lost."
I froze.
> "You mean Eli's brother?"
He didn't answer. Just turned around, walking into the rows of shelves.
I followed him.
---
The shelves twisted.
Not literally. But they bent space.
We turned three corners and ended up at the front again.
> "You've been here before," he said.
"You just forgot. Like you forgot what silence really costs."
I blinked.
> "What does that mean?"
He smiled—not kindly.
> "Eli is your silence, Qussai. Nathan is your resistance.
The boy? He was what you used to be… before he came."
---
I stepped back.
The room tilted. I swear the books whispered.
Mr. Thorne reached into his coat and pulled out something small.
A coin?
He flipped it.
It landed on the ground with no sound.
> "Not all echoes come from your mouth," he said.
"Some come from scars."
---
I looked at the shelves. One book had fallen face-up.
Its title read:
> "Fairhill: A Promised Place."
But someone had scratched the cover.
Now it read:
> "The hill isn't fair. The fare is hell."
---
The lights flickered again.
I turned to ask another question, but Mr. Thorne was gone.
The chair behind the desk was empty.
But in his place—
A page torn from a journal.
I picked it up. One sentence written in red ink:
> "You're starting to hear what I never said."
---
I left the library. I didn't even remember walking out.
Outside, the world felt thinner. Less real.
The street signs were blurred.
One of them read "Fairhall."
The next one: "Fellhill."
Then: "Failher."
I blinked.
They were all gone.
---
Back in my room, I sat on the floor. I didn't want to look in the mirror.
I felt like it was waiting to blink again.
Nathan texted me:
> "You okay?"
I didn't answer. I just stared at the coin in my hand.
Wait—
I never picked it up.
---
To be continued...
© Qussai. All rights reserved.