There was a knock at the door.
I didn't want to open it. I was too afraid of the skeletons in my closet and the axe that I could feel hanging over my head. There was a person behind that knock. A hand with hard white knuckles; a face with a cold steel stare.
I backed up against the far wall, crying.
"Open up..." a male voice echoed through the wood and reached my ears, grabbing my attention from my sniveling.
I huddled closer, trying to disappear behind the dresser.
"I'm going to break the door down if you don't open it, Liza." Saccharine coated his words. He made them sound sweet but i knew they dripped with poison.
I said nothing. I did not whimper, but i did not respond to him.
"You leave me no choice..." The minute of silence that followed the proclamation could have easily been an hour, a day, a lifetime.
The hinges were broken, splinters seemingly tossed across the room by a hurricane.
I gasped. The smell of spearmint filled my nose.
He chuckled, taking out a lighter. He grabbed a book off the shelf, lighting it, then threw it to the ground.
"You must take care of your books, Liza."
I watched the book burn in silence. If it were human... I could see it writhing in pain. So many characters, places; lost.
My eyes glanced from the burning paper to the man.
"Those books... they mean a lot." His voice was silk, hypnotizing. But i could hear a gravelly undertone. Something that he had worked to hide.
"What... what do you want?" I asked, finding my voice.
He smiled, scoffing, kicking away the burning novel that cast harsh shadows on the room. "You know what I want."