Bound: A Short Story Read Free

misinterpreting – I didn’t
get much sleep last night.
    The sun sets and darkness closes in. No more warmth pouring
through the windows, only odd shadows hiding from the fluorescents. Tonight the
stacks seem alien, the books looming as if they have a life of their own,
bindings their skin and paper their flesh. I never thought I’d feel misplaced
among them, but I do now.
    Yes, every book has a heartbeat.
    Fran disturbs me from my book pulling. “Can you do a
walkthrough before your break?”
    I nod. The last few hours passed too quickly.
    Cart back at my desk, I peek my head into the reading room
and catch Sean’s attention. “I need to do a walkthrough, then I’ll be ready.” I’m
not sure what I’ll be ready for. Ready to ignore him yet again? To finally give
in and allow him that chance he’s asking for?
    “One sec.” He waves me closer.
    I grit my teeth and slide forward. “We can talk in a bit.”
    “No, not that.” Unlike earlier, his voice is low, as if
worried he’ll attract attention. “Is it just me, or does something in this
library seem off? I completely forgot how uncomfortable this place made me feel
and why I avoided it while going to school here. But I’ve been sitting for a
long time, remembering, and I get this sense that the stacks are closing in on
me. It’s creepy.”
    I pause, a retort caught in my throat – not what I expected
him to say. The student, frozen in mid-page turn, flashes across my vision. And
the students found dead. No, all the weirdness is in my head.
    “Really? Do you want me to consider you a crazy person
before you attempt to ask me out?” The words are a false heap of chatter,
accusing him of what I fear about myself. He doesn’t deserve such rudeness, and
I’m about to apologize, until he does.
    “Sorry, sorry. My nerves got the best of me then.” He moves
to touch my arm, but I pull back before his fingers brush my skin. I can’t have
a reminder of how good his warmth felt – it won’t help me turn him down.
    “I’ll be back.” I leave Sean with that longing look in his
eye and head to the second floor.
    Creepy. The word echoes, growing louder.
    Row upon row of books loom on the second floor, the stacks
like marching soldiers. At any moment they’ll unsheathe tiny swords hidden in
their spines.
    Get a hold of yourself, Leda. Paper, ink, and glue
can’t do a damned thing to harm me. My friends, my companions, words come to
life off the page – no more. This is not Game of Thrones .
    The second floor is deserted, except of course for the
books, hundreds looking down on me with hungry eyes, pleading for me to read
them.
    I reach for a book left open on one of the desks, abandoned.
Before I touch the pages, I see the water spots. Yet another sad survivor of
the flood.
    I glance around, making sure the reader who left it here isn’t
on her way back from the bathroom. No one. I sigh in relief, afraid to see the
stare of the student from last night. And the crazy eyes.
    This is foolish. I’m acting foolish. Nerves, like
Sean said – I’m just putting off the inevitable talk with him.
    I pick up the book, and the world falls away. Off-white
surrounds me, black lettering etched in the floor and walls, and water stains
splotched across the landscape.
    Throb, throb, throb. A pulse, stronger than my own blood
rushing in my ears, beats around me. Unseen hands push me, then pull, the
throbbing sound crescendoing with every jolt. Static electricity crackles
across my skin, touching each nerve. I trip over my own feet, stumbling.
    I flail to brace myself on the walls, to place my hands on
the enormous words, but they ripple, like a turning page. The book’s heartbeat
thuds in my mind, digs for my soul. I fall to my knees, but even the floor
turns to waves, and I feel nothing beneath my hands but the beating and tiny
shocks stinging my fingertips. Tossed about like a dinghy on rough seas, I
topple to my side.
    No, this isn’t happening. I’m hallucinating,