In Her Book Novels & Stories

I watched her from my royal place, she could not notice that someone has been watching her all these while, going on and admiring the place and sitting down on the molded chair. I came to her. I was interested in the book that she was reading her hands, it was history book. "I see what you are holding, the history of the black cities, I know that it is going to be interesting to you. You would have to know, not everyone that reads the book believes everything.," I said to her while I sat done beside her

she whispers, gritting her teeth at me. "Take the damn book first. You can never reach it even if you jump with all your strength" She murmurs, gazing at me and taking the book and I bring her down. "What's this about?" I ask, leaning against the shelf and staring at her when she opens the book, putting her nose into it. "Serial killing," she groans as I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "I see. You aren't picking your favourite one. Romance" "It sucks," she scoffs.

Even the sofa had her smell. I went into her closet, the one I built for her and hung around for a while. I looked around the clothe filled space until my eyes caught sight of a small leather bound book in the make up table. I walked to the make up table and picked up the book. It was beauty and the beast. I remembered her saying that it was one of her favorite stories. I was not much for fairy tales because nothing about my life was fantastic. All I knew growing up was out to kill a man and how to wield a knife and also how to shoot a gun.

When I first saw her, the first thought that came to my mind was — I want to be happy with her. My knuckles cracked as I curled my fingers into fists. “You cannot break what’s already broken.” “Maybe, but I can shatter the already broken into dust, can’t I?” She summoned a book in her hand. “Found this in your library. Book of curses and torture. I suppose this book was your creation, wasn’t it?” She leafed through its pages. “It has all kinds of tortures, including magical, excluding magical, mental, physical, emotional… It has the whole freaking variety.”

' So what was she still worried about? She took an instinctive half-step back—so quick I wasn't sure she knew she'd done it. It dawned on me that she didn't want to be around me. What was going on with her? "I need books," I said, and heard how idiotic it sounded, like it was possible to need snacks in a bookstore. "Got recommendations?" Her lungs let out a careful breath, the kind people release when a bomb doesn't go off. She was relieved I was here for the books and not something else.

“Would you like to join a book club or something?” I stopped walking and turned to look at her. “A book club?” “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “There’s one I’m in. It’s actually really nice. Good people, good conversations. It might help you… reset a little.” I raised an eyebrow. “You? In a book club?” She gasped dramatically. “Wow. That’s rude.” I smiled faintly. “It’s not. I’m just surprised.” “It’s not boring, I promise,” she said. “And you might like it. It’ll give you something new to focus on.”

Now, she just had to find a way to comfort her which was the main reason he was here. ''I-'' ''It's okay, I know why you're here. There's really no need for you to comfort me, i am stronger than this Brett and i will survive.'' she smiled. She drew out the book from its hiding place because there was really no need for her to hide it anymore. It wasn't a secret anymore as they all knew about it. ''I see you have the book,'' he said. ''I've been doing some reading and this book has opened my eyes to a lot of things that had happened and is happening in this pack.'' she simply said.

She smirks at me like she knows exactly what she is doing before she hands me a book from the shelf. " It is a book about a famous general. Their strategies and old letters that they wrote, and things like that". She says with a shrug and climbs back on her bed. " That actually does sound good". I admit before removing my shoes and sitting on the floor next to her bed where my pillow and blanket from last night still lay. I kept adjusting my position, making a show of trying to get comfortable. I turn to lean my back against her bed, making the bed shake and I hear Rachel snort in annoyance.

She wrote about the city that had become her home, its vibrant energy and its hidden corners, its bustling streets and its quiet sanctuaries. She wrote about the library, her sanctuary of silence, its towering shelves filled with stories waiting to be discovered, its hushed atmosphere a haven for her thoughts and dreams. She wrote about the books she had read, the characters she had met, the worlds she had explored. She wrote about the power of stories, their ability to transport us, to inspire us, to connect us.

I can’t give her anything. My eyes fell on her, her eyes were half closed, a book was on her lap, I had seen this book often with her when she sits in the garden. I thought it was her favourite author. Her maid was sitting across her and when she looked at me, she stood up immediately and bowed. I gestured her to move to the next row and she quickly scurried away. “Earnest Hamingway, I found it in my shelf. You can kill your boredom.” I placed the book on the table in front of her that I swiped from my shelf.