Mr. Grey-Book I

25

Emilia

Another week had flown by in our gilded cage, yet it felt like only yesterday that I'd been brought to this place against my will. The days blurred together in a haze of monotony and tension.

To stave off boredom and keep my mind from imploding, I'd taken to exploring the enormous house. Each day, I'd venture down a new hallway or peek into an unexplored room, trying to map out the labyrinthine layout in my head.

On this particular afternoon, I was meandering along yet another corridor when a heavy swing door to my left caught my eye. Curiosity piqued, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight before me. The room had a tiled chessboard floor and stretched out farther than I could see, lined with row upon row of bookshelves. It was a private library, grander than anything I'd ever imagined.

I walked slowly between the shelves, my fingertips trailing reverently along the spines of the books. They were meticulously organized – fiction arranged alphabetically, non-fiction sorted by subject, with color-coded dots marking different genres. A children's section boasted lower shelves and inviting floor cushions, while comfortable leather armchairs were scattered throughout for quiet reading.

The whole space exuded a muffled stillness as if time itself moved more slowly here. It was clear that this room had been designed by someone with a profound love for literature.

"I see you've found the library," a familiar voice said from behind me. I turned to see Susan smiling warmly, a feather duster in her hand.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, still in awe. "Whose is it?"

Susan's smile turned wistful. "It used to belong to Damien's father."

That caught my attention. "What happened to him?" I asked, unable to mask my inquisitiveness.

Susan shook her head sadly. "I don't know, dear. It's not my place to about these things." She paused, her expression growing more serious. "Actually, I wanted to ask – have you seen Damien recently?"

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "No, I haven't seen him in days. I assumed he'd locked himself in his room. I mean, he couldn't have gone that far. We're in the middle of nowhere." And he's blind,

Truth be told, I'd made it my mission over the past few days to avoid Damien like the plague. Our last interaction had left me feeling confused and irritated, and I'd decided that distance was the best policy.

Susan frowned, worry etching lines into her forehead. "That boy never listens," she muttered under her breath. "Well, his friend Lucas is here to see him. He's downstairs now, trying to find Damien as well. The poor boy is worried sick."

My heart leaped at the mention of Lucas. A familiar face was exactly what I needed right now. Without waiting for Susan to finish, I hurried down the stairs, calling out, "Lucas!"

I spotted him on the balcony, and his face lit up with a warm smile as he turned to me. "Emilia!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. "God, I've missed you."

I couldn't help but giggle, relishing the comfort of a friendly embrace. It felt so good to see someone familiar after weeks of isolation.