Dead Girls Don't Run ✔️

07 | Liar, Liar

When I go to school the next day, the three boys are nowhere to be seen, nor do they turn up the day after, or the one after that.

And for three days, I've spent every spare minute watching the school security cameras to find the gaps. For such a prestigious school, their security is pretty lax.

And for three days I continue to go to classes, eat with a silent Kat, plan, rinse and repeat. The only person that has been paying me any attention is Aubrey - the childhood friend of the boys who seems the watch me from their table. Even empty and sitting alone, she still seems to rule over everyone within a fifty-mile radius.

Exhaustion pulls at my limbs like an unruly child, begging and pleading at me to stop, yet I wake again, ready myself for school and start the day - at two in the morning.

I fall to my knees at the front of the school building, slipping the lock picking kit from my pocket and begin to pick the front door of the academy.

With a quick snick and hiss, the lock disengages, and the door snaps open on silent hinges.

I slip through, closing it silently behind me, cringing at the click of the lock and how it echoes down the cavernous hall.

Straitening, I glance down one side, modern day sconces lining the wall and keeping the hall lit up, and then look down the other side, seeing that the lights are dimmed, almost nonexistent.

I start walking that way, keeping silent as I make my way to the library. My fingers skim along the stone wall, running over bumps and ridges until I find the sign I'd seen earlier in the week and follow it all the way to those engraved double doors.

I stop in front of them, eyes drawn to the detailed engravings.

Creatures border the doors, clawed hands reaching out as if to snatch me away and bring me into their world.

Flying monsters are pictured in the air, maws open wide, flame and what looks like smoke spilling out, raining down on smaller, weaker creatures below.

Dragons. The word hits me. These are dragons.

A group of people - monsters crest the hill, swords drawn, hands clawed, fangs sharp.

I don't know what this art is a depiction of but whoever did it, did it beautifully.

I push the door open, palm splayed over the engraving of a beautiful man, wings sprouting from his back and slip inside, motion lights brighten as soon as I walk in.

I cringe, wanting to switch them off but no one is here. Only me and the shadows.

I walk through the library, my head turning at every rustle and noise, eyes tracing the large book cases that seem to travel the length of the library and then some, disappearing into a deeper, darker part.

A second level houses more books, the level open to the main one, bordering the stone walls of the building, a banister the only thing between readers and falling down a floor.

I move to an itemised map on the wall, finger lifting to trace down the list until I find what I'm looking for.

And of course, the books I'm searching for are kept in one of the furthest locations.

Turning, I begin striding through the emptiness, eyes locked on the back wall, skipping down row after row after row of books until finally I'm standing in front of the shelves I was looking for.

I reach for one book, then another, tucking them into the crook of my arm and finding a spot on the floor to nestle into and begin.

The first book I crack open is called 'The Great History of Creatures Long Forgotten.'