"Where are you taking me?" I asked, pushing my hands forward in hopes of navigating with my hands since my eyes were blindfolded. It was pointless.
My sister interrupted my lovely day out in the fields, where I was hiding away with a new book I had picked, for a surprise.
"Open your eyes," she said, removing the blindfold.
"What's this?" I asked as a smile crawled up my face.
"Happy birthday," she said. I turned and hugged her quickly before running to the makeshift library in the storage room. "I picked a few books for you with my savings," Lucy said.
"Thank you," I said over my shoulder, my attention already on the selected books. Lucy knew me so well; the books were just my taste.
"You can't let Mother know, okay?" she said, and I stood straight to look at her.
"What do you take me for?" I asked, and she smiled as relief settled on her face. "And stop calling her Mother; it's annoying," I said to my twin sister, who just shook her head and turned to leave.
"We better get back before they start looking for us," she said, and I nodded, grabbing a book before going after her. I tucked it inside my underwear and straightened my dress as I walked out.
"What are you two doing here?" I heard the most annoying voice, second only to my stepmother—my stepbrother.
"What do you want?" Lucy asked, and he scoffed.
"I'll tell Mother you were slacking off all day," he threatened, but she didn't seem to care. She knew better. She was just putting up a bold front.
If Lucy could be a character in a book, she'd be the cool one. I want to say she has an innocent face, but we look exactly alike: short, dirty blonde hair with amber eyes. No one can tell us apart. Well, she'd be the cool character with an innocent face but extremely strong.
I, on the other hand, would be a damsel in distress looking for a scary monster to save me. If shifters really exist, then I want one of them to be my savior. I'd be in a nice enemies-to-lovers romance.
"Go ahead," Lucy retorted and turned to lock the door. "Let's go," she ordered, and I obeyed, walking closely behind her.
"What should I get you for?" I asked.
"The ribbon will do," she replied, smiling at me. "It's my job as the older sister to have the more expensive gift," she said, and I scoffed.
"Just say you expected something else," I joked. Lucy just shook her head and walked faster.
We went through the day without incident, doing our chores as always. It was a bore, but when night came, I was feeling giddy. I went to my room and melted on the bed like hot butter, then opened the book I had picked from Lucy's library.
The moment I started reading, I was completely lost. The world around me became a void. I was so lost that I didn't hear the banging on my door until after a while. I pushed the book under my pillow and groaned as I stood up, rubbing my eyes and feigning sleep as I opened the door.
"You," I heard just as a hand landed on my face. "Why did you keep me waiting?" my stepmother asked. I bit my bottom lip and turned to look at her. "Come here," she ordered, grabbing my ear.
She dragged me by my ear downstairs and out to the yard to the storage room—my library. 'That stupid brat!' I thought, biting my bottom lip.
She threw me into my makeshift library where Lucy was kneeling with her head down.
"What did I say about reading?" she asked.
"Girls don't need it," we chorused.
"And you went behind my back to get books," she yelled, but neither of us flinched. She can yell all she wants; I will never stop reading. Books and Lucy are all that keep me going. Why would I give it up for my father's stupid wife? "Okay, you can have your books," she said and walked out. That was easy, too easy.
A torch fell inside the room, and a large fire erupted. My eyes widened, and I stood up quickly.
"Lucy," I called, shaking her out of her daze. "Let's go," I shouted, and she nodded, standing up.
We managed to get out before it grew any further, but the main door was locked.
"Open the door," I shouted. "Please," I said, coughing.
"You can have the books you so badly want," I heard her voice.
She wouldn't dare kill us. The thought alone was absurd. If Father comes back and hears it... maybe he'd finally believe us. Maybe he'd finally see her for the cruel, manipulative woman she is. I imagined the scene in my head: Father arriving home, finding us missing, and discovering the charred remains of our beloved library. His face would go pale, and his eyes would fill with horror as he realized what she had done. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the final straw. He would cast her out, and we'd be free from her tyranny.
But even as I clung to this hope, the smoke was suffocating, its acrid scent filling my lungs and stinging my eyes. The fire roared behind the door, a relentless monster consuming everything in its path. I stopped pleading and sat down, my legs unable to support me any longer. I leaned my head against the door, feeling the heat seeping through the wood.
Lucy's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. "What are you doing? Get up," she shouted, her tone desperate. I could hear the fear in her voice, but I couldn't move. I was too tired, too overwhelmed. This is a good story, I thought. I die, Father gets some common sense, and gets rid of her. Maybe this was the only way to make things right.
The smoke thickened, and I could feel myself drifting off, my consciousness slipping away. I closed my eyes, thinking of the books I had read and the adventures I had imagined. If this was the end, at least I had lived a thousand lives through the stories I loved.
Very poetic!