I was in the school library studying for my finals last month before the break. The library was closing soon but Marge, the librarian, always takes her time, and she lets me stay and keep working. So just like every time before, she did. Most of the lights are turned off automatically at 11:00pm except for the emergency lights. I pulled out my phone and turned on the light. I had gotten way behind on studying for this one with my dad being sick, so I was absorbed in the chemistry text. I didn’t notice that the emergency lights went off this time too. I was in complete darkness with only my phone light. That’s when I heard it: a high-pitched laugh; almost a shriek. I was confused cause Marge is eerily quiet and too used to being in libraries. It was so out of character.
“Marge?” I look down the stacks toward the front desk. That’s when I realized every single light was off. It was pitch black. “Marge, was that you?”
Nothing; dead quiet. My heartbeat started to quicken, and I’ve never packed up my books as fast before. I slung my backpack over my shoulders while fast-walking down the same stacks I looked down earlier.
“It’s me Charlotte! I’m still here remember!” I yelled, maybe Marge was already leaving the building. But when I broke through the stacks she was nowhere to be found. I run straight for the main door and pull the handle. It’s locked. I cup my hands around my eyes and press myself up against the glass door. Her car is parked outside but she isn’t there. No one else is either.
“Ha!” The shriek again. I flip around and shine my phone light all around.
“Who’s there?!” Silence meets me again. I whisper under my breath, “Marge, please tell me you’re just going crazy.”
“Charlotte…” The unsettled whisper of my name tickles my ears. I get goosebumps. Then high-pitched, “Don’t you know the library is closed and off limits to students now?” I can’t tell where it’s coming from, it echoes off the walls.
“Please, I don’t want any trouble, if you could just unlock the door I’ll be on my way.” I listen for any type of movement but can’t hear anything.
“But that wouldn’t be any fun…” the voice trails off. Then as if she was right upon me, “We’re here for you.”
I scream and my phone drops. She shoves her hand over my mouth to muffle my screams and then all I see next is a dark sheet being pulled over my head.
When I come to, I’m in a room I don’t recognize. It’s so like the library I’ve spent hours of my life in, except the books are old, dusty, and the décor is styled like I’ve time-traveled to a hundred years ago.
“She’s awake.” It’s Marge, I know it. Her voice is soft, quiet, and old. “Finally.” The harsher voice says.
“Marge? What’s happening?” I ask, my voice hoarse. Marge has a sad look in her eye and dodges mine.
“Shh.” A glass of water is held up to my lips. “Here, drink this.”
I muster out, “Who are you?” But the woman pushes the glass harder against my lips, and I drink, the water cooling my aching throat.
“Where am I?” I try to sit up but realize my wrists are locked into metal cuffs on this hard, wooden chair.
“Don’t worry, you haven’t left the library.” the woman responds. “You may call me Cecilia, Charlotte. We’re related, you and I, blood sisters by birthright.”
“What? I don’t understand. I don’t even know you.” I stammer.
“You know this place, don’t you?” I’m obviously very confused cause she leans over my chair and gets close to my face. “It knows you.” She stands up and picks up a blood red book from a stand that’s lit by candlelight. “Haven’t you ever wondered where that lure came from? Why you always seek to be in its presence?”
“I just like to study in the library, most everyone does.”
“But not everyone stays past closing and comes back day in and day out. Don’t lie to yourself, you like it here, feel home here. Don’t you?”
“Sure, I like libraries more than others, but I’ve just always liked libraries. So what?”
She looks to Marge and nods off to the right, then takes a step closer to me and opens the blood red book.
“But this one is special, isn’t it?” She stares knives into my eyes like she already knows my answer.
I don’t want to respond but I feel she can read my mind. “Yes.” I whisper.
I hear creaking behind me and flip around as best I can in this chair. Marge walks over with a long silver dagger in hand.
My eyes go wide. “What the fuck?! Marge! What are you doing?!” She won’t look at me, just keeps walking closer. “No Marge, please. Please don’t! Please!” I yell and thrash around in the chair to get out of the shackles.
“Calm down.” Cecelia says. Marge hands her the blade and Cecelia takes it.
“What do you mean calm down?! You’re going to kill me!”
Cecelia laughs, this time controlled. “Ah so naïve, just like I was for mine. But so much fire in you. I like it.”
Cecelia cuts her hand and barely winces from the pain. She walks toward me, and I fight harder at the shackles. “Get the FUCK away from me!” I yell.
“Marge?” Cecelia requests kindly. Marge walks around me toward my right hand. I ball it into a fist and grip like my life depended on it, which it does. Marge pulls at my hand to open it, she struggles.
“Just open your hand.” Cecelia demands. “Honestly, this is absurd. I’m not going to kill you.”
“The fuck you won’t!” I’m losing the fight in my grip.
“I didn’t kill myself did I”? Cecelia lifts her bloodied hand.
Finally, Marge yanks my hand open and holds it flat with both hands. As quick as a flash, Cecelia slices my hand with the bloodied edge of the knife. It feels warm, then pain sets in. I grip my fist together and wince, my toes curl inward. What I didn’t notice was Cecelia placed the handle of the blade into my closing grip. Before I could release the knife, Cecelia slammed Marge’s head down into the blade, right through her eye socket. I screamed bloody murder and let go of the knife. Marge fell to the ground, dead. Cecelia grabbed me from behind and held me.
“Shh.” I still screamed so loud that she held her hand over my mouth again to quiet me. “She chose Charlotte. She chose.” I couldn’t take my eyes off Marge’s lifeless body. “And now you are fully born.”
It’s hazy after that. The next morning, I woke up in my dorm room as usual, but now with a white bandage over my right hand and black ink on my fingertips. It started flooding back to me, the bizarre night, Marge being murdered, my part in her death, and Cecelia warning me not to tell a soul. Then a soft breeze drifts past me, and a piece of paper falls off my nightstand. I pick it up, the writing is jagged and black like the ink on my fingers. It’s as if I wrote it, but I don’t remember this. I read it aloud to myself:
“You are not yours anymore. Like a loss of your soul, she takes all. I’m sorry. Run!” -Marge
I drop the paper. Goosebumps shiver up my spine and for a moment I want to do what she said, but it disappears just as fast when this desperation from within pulls me to go to the library and I swear I hear a voice say, “Come.”
Feeling like I’m on autopilot, I put on a hoodie and some boots and take off to the library.
When I get there, I notice Marge’s car is gone. I should leave but that desperation comes back, almost painful this time so I pick up my pace and walk inside. Some students pass by, and I’m led up to the front desk where a woman sits at a computer.
“Finally.” she says, and I know this voice now; I know it very well.
She turns around, it’s Cecelia. She smiles pleasantly but her eyes say differently. She holds a finger up to her lips. “Shh.”