Torn (on hold-rewriting)

You're really into this fantasy junk, aren't you?

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     **Chapter 1: You're really into this fantasy junk, aren't you?**

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The dead silence in the library would probably drive a lot of people insane, but not me. I spend most of my time in here browsing the books and fangirling over my favorites. I just casually stroll through the isles lost in the world of literature. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep overnight here once after I locked myself in their bathroom with about five books to avoid leaving. The librarians weren't too happy about finding me asleep in a stall using their books as a pillow.

The point is the library is basically a second home to me. I devote much of my afternoon to searching throughout the whole building with hopes of finding the perfect story to read. At night, I go to my room and climb underneath all of my pillows and blankets creating almost like a sanctuary for me; a safe place to read without distraction. Then I can fall deep into my imagination and pretend I'm in the story.

Sometimes I can actually do that. I can picture the trees of the forest rising up in the area surrounding me or see a massive castle towering over me. Being only five feet, it is easy for something to tower over me, but you get the idea. I can smell the freshly made kettlecorn or designer perfume if I try hard enough. I feel the fear as if I was the character in peril and tears form in my eyes during a death scene. Wherever I am, I literally stand up and let out a victory cheer if the hero or heroine wins against the ruthless villain.

By the way, that's not the best idea when you are secretly reading in class while your teacher is giving the room a lecture about the different bones in the body or something like that. I don't really remember; like I said, I was too wrapped up in the plot.

Today, like any other day, I woke up as early as I could. In my case, that would be ten; that's pretty good considering I read until three in the morning last evening. It’s Saturday today, which means I have the whole day to pick out a few books and I have to whole night to read my heart out.

I graze my hand along the spines of the books as I walk slowly through the bookshelves. I quickly glance at each title to see if any really pop out at me. Just by the touch and texture of the covers, I can tell how long this book has been here or how popular it is.  The mauled jackets indicate that multiple people have flipped through the pages previously. It could also mean that the library hasn't replaced the books since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but I always try to convince myself it's just because they are popular.

As I browse through the fantasy section, one title seems to speak to me; well, not literally. That would be weird. I slide it off of its shelf and look at the cover; I soon realize, though, that there is not much to look at. It is a tattered, cheap paperback with only simple white letters on a black background. Fire and Rain. It grabs my interest, so I flip it over and begin to read the back.

"Earth has been destroyed," I read in my head, "Overrun by tyrants, the survival of humanity depends all on two heroes who-"

"You're really into this fantasy junk aren't you?" A husky voice says from behind me, making me jump. The book is grabbed away from me and I turn around to protest. It is pulled from my reach as I desperately try to get it back. I look up to meet a familiar face. I place my hands on my hips and purse my lips as I give my friend one of my famous evil looks.

"It's not junk Brady," I say snatching the book back from him. He rolls his eyes and props on arm against the bookshelf.

"Sure," he mutters sarcastically, "You keep telling yourself that, Jade."