As I stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the weight of the conversation lingered in my mind. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, and I felt an unsettling sense of foreboding. I needed to make sense of everything—Emma's claims, Eleanor's fate, and my uncle's role in this tangled web.
I walked briskly down the corridor, my thoughts racing. hostel felt eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath.
"Jonathan?" I whispered, the name echoing in my mind. When had I heard that name before? I asked myself.
Oh, the dream! Of course, the dream I had. In that dream, I was different—my hair and eyes were not the same. But it felt like it wasn't truly me.
What if the book isn't actually about Gabriel, but someone else entirely? I pondered, uncertainty creeping in. Emma had mentioned that the descriptions of Eleanor and Alice were the same, which added another layer of complexity to my thoughts.
