Over a year ago
The count was whom we owed our lives to. We did not know much of this man except for what he did for us last year. He rescued Linda and I from a fate so horrible, it put John's constant night visits to shame.
Sadly, family was your worst enemy.
We had received news in the most peculiar way that the count had involved itself with "our case" as it was dubbed.
I was at school, in my lunch break, when I was on my way to the library. There was this book I needed to collect for an assignment in English class. Once there the calming smell of procrastination and old books calmed me. Everyone was rushing to get their last minute assignments done.
Half-assed, but done.
The librarian asked for my student ID, and input it into the computer. A message popped up stating I needed book 89C. As to which she left to go get and gave me the copy of the book once she came back. I thanked her and made my way to the hidden back part of the library. Once I opened the book, there was a letter written in the most eloquent fashion with my name on it. The irony not lost within me whenever I recall this specific moment. It was inside the copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
L.
J. Has not met Fate yet.
P. Shelly at midnight.
C.
After reading the letter, I froze. My blood ran cold, and I wanted to heave. Someone knew.
How?
And why?
I remember I got up and collected my stuff. The rest is hazy. All I know is that somehow i made it back to my house and crawled into bed. I don't remember much of that day. But I remember what happened at midnight. The count happened.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe
Romance"Moral wounds have this peculiarity- they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart." ~ Alexandre Dumas Lucas was innocent, never tainted, until his secret got o...
