Page 9 of The Library

She’s scared tonight. I could feel it in the way she rushed home, the way she practically ran through that door. But what she doesn’t understand is that her fear doesn’t repel me. It pulls me in. It makes me want her even more. Fear strips people bare,makes them vulnerable, and I can see it in her—the way her fear is starting to mix with something darker. She’s still in denial, but part of her likes thinking someone’s watching, someone’s waiting for her.

I glance at my phone, checking the time. Two minutes. That’s how long it’ll take for her to shower, to step out with her skin still flushed and warm, to peer out her window like she does every night, checking for something she can’t quite name. I can already picture it—her hair damp, her lips parted as she catches her reflection in the mirror. She’ll see herself, but what she doesn’t know is that what’s truly watching her isn’t the reflection.

It’s me.

I flick the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under my boot as I step away from the building. Tonight isn’t the night. But soon. Soon, she’ll realize the truth.

Lilith

Iwake up the next morning feeling uneasy, the remnants of last night still clinging to me like a heavy fog. I can’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, even though I never saw anyone. My rational mind tells me it was just my imagination, just the lingering effects of that damn book I stayed up too late reading. But something deeper, something instinctual, keeps gnawing at me.

It doesn’t help that today is Monday. I fucking hate Mondays, especially after a weekend like this one. The kind of weekend that leaves me more exhausted than rested, with thoughts swirling around in my head that I can’t control. I drag myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes as I stare at the clock.

I’m late again. Of course I am. I throw on the first thing I can find—jeans and a simple sweater—and barely take the time to run a brush through my hair. My glasses sit on my nightstand, and I slide them on instead of bothering with my contacts. I don’t have the energy for anything else.

As I rush out the door, my mind is already racing, not about class, but about him. The man from The Library. The man who’s been haunting my thoughts since the moment I first laid eyes on him. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. Those fucking eyes, that smile. Like he’s unraveling me without even trying.

I make it to class just in time, slipping into my seat before the professor starts talking. I’m not even really paying attention to what’s going on. My mind is elsewhere, still lost in thought.

And then the door opens.

I glance up, and my heart stops in my chest. It’s him. The man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. He’s standing there, filling the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on me. The moment he sees me, a slow, dangerous smirk curls on his lips, sending a jolt of heat straight through me. I can feel my pulse quicken, my skin prickling with awareness, but my nipples harden at the same time. It’s like the air between us thickens, charged with something I can’t quite explain.

“Sebastian, so nice of you to join us for once,” my professor says in a mocking tone.

Sebastian? Join us? What the fuck, he goes to this college?

I’ve never seen him in this class before, or any other for that matter. I’m in my senior year at Blackthorn University, and I know most of the faces around here by now. But him? He’s a complete stranger, a mystery.

He moves, slipping into a seat a few rows behind me, just off to my right. Close enough that I can feel his presence without even looking. My hands shake as I fumble for my notebook, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that he’s here.Why is he here?

I try to keep my breathing steady, but it’s no use. I can feel him watching me. My mind races, a thousand questions buzzing in my head, but none of them make sense.Why does he keep showing up? Why do I feel like he’s always there, just on the edge of my life, like a shadow that won’t leave?

Class drags on, and I can’t focus on a single word the professor is saying. All I can think about is him. Is he staring at me? Is this all in my head? The rational part of me wants to believe that this is just a coincidence, but the way my body reactstells me otherwise. Every time I shift in my seat, I feel his eyes on me. Every time I glance over my shoulder, I see him—those mismatched eyes, dark and full of something I can’t name.

The way he looks at me, though, it’s more than just watching—it’s like he wants to tear me apart, devour every inch of me until there’s nothing left. There’s hunger in his gaze, raw and dangerous, like he could consume me whole if he wanted to, and a twisted part of me wonders what it would feel like to let him.

When the class finally ends, I practically bolt for the door. I need to get the fuck out of here, away from him. But as I gather my things, I can feel his presence behind me, looming like a shadow that’s too close for comfort. My heart races, my palms sweaty as I make my way to the exit, not daring to look back.

I don’t stop moving until I’m outside, the cool air hitting my face. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, but it doesn’t help. My heart pounds in my chest, my mind a tangled mess of fear… and something darker lurking beneath.

I should go straight to my next class, but instead, I find myself walking toward The Library. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it’s the only place I feel safe, surrounded by books, by the familiar scent of old paper and quiet solitude. Maybe it’s because part of me hopes that, by some strange twist of fate, he won’t follow me there.

Sebastian

Iwatch her slip out of the classroom like a rabbit running from a fox. She knows I’m watching, though she’s not ready to face it just yet. I see the way her body tenses, the way she tries to avoid looking back at me. It’s instinctual—she’s aware, deep down, that I’m always nearby. I am the predator and she is the prey, and she knows it.

I don’t leave the room right away. I let her get a head start, give her time to think she’s escaped. She’s predictable in her movements, and I know exactly where she’s headed. The Library. Her sanctuary. It’s conveniently close to campus, just far enough from the hustle of downtown to avoid the chaos, yet close enough to the college and city life to still feel connected. A place where she believes she can hide from the world, lose herself in stories that dull the sharp edges of reality. But she can’t hide from me. Not in there. Not anywhere.

I take my time walking through campus, feeling the crisp air against my skin. It’s funny how easily she’s fallen into my world without even realizing it. This isn’t a game to me—it’s something far more intricate. Lilith is a puzzle, and I’m the only one who knows how to put her pieces together. She’s trying so hard to keep control, to pretend that everything in her life is normal, but that illusion is crumbling fast.

And I’m going to be the one to tear it apart.

When I reach The Library, I step inside quietly, my movements deliberate. I scan the rows of shelves, the quiet rustle of people browsing for their next escape filling the space. It’s almost too easy. She’s here somewhere, hiding between these walls, believing that the outside world can’t touch her. But I’m already inside her world. I’ve been inside it for longer than she knows.

I find her in the far corner, tucked away in one of those oversized armchairs, her legs curled up beneath her as she reads. Her dark hair falls around her face, shielding her from everything around her. She’s trying to disappear into those pages, to escape into another world, but there’s no escaping me.

I can’t help but smile at the sight of her. She looks so innocent, so vulnerable sitting there, her guard completely down. She has no idea that I’m here, watching her, that I’ve already seen more of her than she’ll ever realize. Her apartment… the cameras I’ve hidden… I know every inch of her space, every intimate detail of her life.

---