Loving Levi Greene

Chapter 25: Taken

***Amelia's POV***

I've lost track of time, and I'm a statue in the middle of the library. This is how I feel, like a cold, lifeless chunk of marble or rock or stone. 

Or some other cold and unfeeling substance.

The candles have burned down by now, the wax drips onto the floor in tempo with seconds.

I know that I must return downstairs before John or Abigail come up here to ask questions. 

I can't handle questions right now. 

I can't handle anything right now. 

All that I can handle is this. Staying still, trying not to think about anything at all.

I inhale deeply. The breath I take in feels tainted and heavy.

I exhale.

I have to return downstairs. 

My tears have dried, leaving the skin on my face feeling taught and tight from the leftover salt that lingers there.

I mentally brace myself to return to the party, telling myself that I must act as if nothings wrong. I must return the same way that I left, light and airy. 

Not leaden and weighed down by the knowledge that I now carry. 

And I must speak to John as if I have no clue of his history. Or his present. 

He cannot know that I know. 

A monster lurks under his skin, stalking his prey, waiting for the right time to claim his victim. 

Me.

I practice my smile. Tight and unnatural feeling, I don't know if I'll ever truly smile again.

I inhale deeply through my nose, praying for the emotional stability and strength that I'll need to get through the rest of the night. 

Then, I'll never speak to John Smith again.

Hell, I may not even leave my house again.

Going to Eden even feels risky now. 

I step forward, making my way to the door. 

I pause, hand on the cool metal of the door handle, bracing myself. 

And then I hear something. 

A deep, muffled voice says something from just on the other side of the door. It's a hushed voice, so quiet that I can't understand the words. It doesn't even sound like English. It sounds like another language. A few stray words of broken English is mixed in with that harsh, foreign accent.

And another voice responds in a similar dialect and tone.

Two men.

I step back from the door. 

Who is behind it? 

I don't understand, the upstairs is forbidden to those who are not family. 

I'm certain that whoever is on the other side of the door is not permitted to be up here. 

No one in Abigail's family sounds or speaks like that.

A spider of fear crawls and creeps up my back. 

Danger.

I am in danger. 

I glance around the room, looking for another way out, or for a place to hide.