Sick
The wind hurled against the dusty wooden window of the shop as I stared at the Jane Austen book in my hands. It's the soul-piercing story of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth from Persuasion.
You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever – Jane Austen
My focus on the tale has been long forgotten. I laid down my small bed, legs dangling at the end, and my eyes darted to the ceiling. Old, dusty, but calm. Like nothing can ever destroy the peace in this place. But even in the calm waters, danger lies underneath it all – waiting to ambush you from miles away or from meters below where you're standing at.
However, my mind is far from calm. It's twisted – muddled a
