Booktok Door Frame Lean Novels & Stories

Something about the picture just didn't sit right with me. Just like Ma Levine had said, we finally reached the second floor where she had said my room would be. We walked down the long corridor, passing different doors before coming to one that looked to have been specially made differently from the rest. The door post bore complex designs, one that spoke of the majesty that laid behind the huge frame. The door itself looked as though it was created by some of the greatest craftsmen. It stood tall and wide, its top reaching at about seven feet in height. Its knob, made from brass, seemed to have been polished by the finest oil as it's surface mirrored the awed expression that I had on my fa

My legs feel shaky and unreliable as I slowly make my way across the shop's crunchy, debris-strewn floor to the front door. I have to lock it, but the simple action proves almost impossible. My hand shakes so violently, a pathetic, uncontrolled tremor, that I cannot align the bolt to hook it into the frame. I close my eyes, take a deep, forced breath, and wait, leaning my forehead against the cool wood of the door until the frantic, erratic drumbeat of my heart finally begins to slow. Only then can I slide the bolt home. The place itself is profoundly depressing. Every detail contributes to the oppressive atmosphere of neglect. The glass shelves are shattered, only their jagged, sharp edges,

Chapter Two Laila’s POV The door didn’t open. It came off the wall. One second Rico was leaning over me, phone in hand, red camera light blinking. The next, wood cracked and the whole door swung back so hard it bounced off the shelf and sent three bottles crashing to the floor.

He finds what he was looking for in the lounge. “Fi, I need a hand here. I’ve definitely found something suspicious.” Nate calls out, he begins throwing books off the bookcase and onto the floor out of the way. Fi appears and joins in after Nate points out the scratch marks on the floor that indicate that the bookcase had been moved many times, always in the same way. “Okay, that should be enough weight off, help me move this thing.” She nods, They each grab a side of the bookcase and slide it along the wall until a door is revealed. Nate grabs for the handle, but it was locked. Fi hums,

Deanna and Grant are hot on my heels. I turn the final corner to see the damage amid a half dozen omegas working busily. Some notice and stop their work. Others are too invested. “Don’t let me bother you. I’m here to help.” I smile, receiving odd looks. I survey the damage and decide to help those who are cleaning up the inside. I see now that the doorframe was the primary victim of Brady’s rage. Most of the doorframe is still intact; only the areas that attach to joints are severely damaged. Almost all the furniture has been cleared out. I’m sure it was fragmented from all the fighting.

I had been sleeping in my jacket for a week so there was nothing to gather, nothing to slow me down. The door bolt was on the outside but the frame weakness I had been working on for the past twelve days was not about the bolt. It was about the bottom hinge, which had been slowly separating from the stone due to the moisture in the walls. Two weeks of patient pressure applied every night during the hours the guards were least attentive had worked it to the point where the door frame could be lifted and the hinge pin extracted if enough upward force was applied at the right angle. I applied it. The sound it made was not loud but in a stone room it had nowhere to go but everywhere. I froze. Co

I tried a different angle, pressing it against the door handle. Still no response. "What's wrong? Is it demagnetized?" I anxiously moved the card around the door crack. "Such a high-end apartment, and the door lock quality is this poor?" I had been tired all day, my arms were sore, and I still had to carry this heavy stack of books. My patience was gradually running out. "Please, just open the door!" Just as I was about to give up and put down the books to call the lobby manager. "Click."

The door itself was solid but the frame around it had the slightly soft give of something that had been damp at some point in the past decade and never fully recovered. I looked around the corridor. There was a bench against the far wall. Decorative, heavy, the kind of thing that had been sitting in the same spot so long it had left marks in the stone floor. “Help me with that,” I said. Titan looked at the bench. Then he just hit the door with his shoulder instead. It took three attempts. Not elegant. Not quiet. But the frame gave on the third hit with a crack that I felt in my back teeth, and the door swung inward hard.

He toggled to the next picture, instead. why aren’t you looking at these outside?! The room in the next image was more easily identifiable, if only because of the bookshelves— warped, crooked, several shelves broken—and an old rocking chair in the far left corner, also mostly out of frame. A sitting room of sorts. There were probably more bookshelves out of frame, maybe a table and a few recliners.