Wilted

Chapter Three

I stumbled into the little apartment we liked to call home. My mother wasn't far behind me, the jiggle of her key rings echoing down the hall. I flick the lights on, sighing to myself.
The place wasn't much. It was a small two bed, two bath apartment. The kitchen was barely a kitchen at all. Tucked away into the corner, we were lucky enough to fit a fridge. Our living room was made up of two small armchairs facing towards our TV. We could probably fit more furniture if it weren't for all the bookshelves lining every visible wall. Books were piled onto the floor and onto the bookshelves. Books were across every surface and in every visible space. My mother was almost as obsessed with books as I was. She'd turned our tiny home into her own personal library.
But this was home. And I loved these books with everything in me. They've brought me so much joy over the years, I carry the characters with me everyday. I loved my tiny home more than anything. It was my safe place, my escape.

I carry my bag to my room, setting it down next to my bookshelf that was shoved against a wall. I fall back into my desk chair, letting out a breath. It was just past midnight and I had a big day ahead of me. I could feel exhaustion weigh my limbs down, pulling at my eyelids. Gathering the last bit of strength I had left, I pull myself into clean clothes and into my bed.

Asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

***

My booted feet slap against the pavement, puddles of dirty water all over the streets and sidewalk. I lifted my hand to cover my yawn, it was early morning now. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night after returning from the hospital. I'd decided to stop by the library this morning so I could check out a book I needed for school today. The sun was barely in the sky, just cresting the horizon. Painting the sky in beautiful oranges and purples. I always loved sunrises. They reminded me deeply of my father. He used to watch the sunrise every morning, a cup of hot tea in his hand. He'd hold me in his lap and tell me stories of his adventures. Though now I knew that they weren't ever real stories. The things he told were impossible in real life. But at the time little me believed every word he said. His stories consisted of Faeries and mermaids and pirates. Of magical creatures and mystical lands. He'd once told me he was best friends with a fae prince, but the poor prince had been cursed and my father had lost touch with him.

When I was younger I would hang on his every word, listen to every story and see everything play out before my eyes. But now that I'm old enough to know that fairy tales aren't reality, I understand now that my father was only making those stories up.

Still, I keep those stories, those moments of happiness, close to my heart.

I step inside of the library, waving to the tired looking librarian at the front.

"Oh, Bella. So nice to see you this morning." She greets me, a warm smile lighting her wrinkled face. I adjust the bag on my shoulder and nod to her.
"And you too, Mrs. Frederick." I came to the library enough to know almost all the staff, I was even great friends with some of them. I walk down the aisles, my fingers brushing the spines of the books. I murmur under my breath, looking for the book I needed so I could get going. I didn't want to be late again.

I bend over to look at the books on the bottom of the shelf, a loud thump sounding behind me. I jump and whip around, glancing down at the floor to see that a book had fallen from my bag.

It was the book from yesterday, the one that had fallen from the cart. It had opened to a random page, the pages looked brown with age. I lean down, wondering quietly to myself how it had fallen from my bag. But before I could pick the book up, I realized something strange.

The letters were glowing. No. That can't be right. I blink rapidly.

But no, the letters were glowing. And they seemed to be getting brighter the more I stared. My brow furrows in confusion, I tentatively reach my hand out and brush my fingertips along the glowing letters. A tingling sensation moving up my arm and over my body drawing a shudder from me. My fingers were warm from where I touched the book. And then the strangest thing happened.

The words started to peel from the pages, floating in the air around me. Stunned, wondering if maybe I had hit my head, I stayed crouched. The floating words move in the air around me, slow and mesmerizing. The only word to come to mind was magical. All of this was magical. They danced about the air, spinning and floating until they came to a stop. And then the words moved closer to me, settling across my skin and sending tingles all over my body. I jumped back in fear, but the words didn't shake. Instead they sunk into my skin, warming my body into an uncomfortable temperature. "What the-" I gasp, and then I'm stumbling, falling towards the ground. Towards the book, whose pages are blank now.

But instead of hitting the ground, I fall right into the book itself.

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