The Mask Man In The Woods

14.

CHAPTER | FOURTEEN

"I guess now it's my turn to offer you tea, huh?" Tristian commented, handing me a warm plastic cup.

I blew on it, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the walls.

There was literally nothing, but books stacked from the floor to the ceiling. It looked as if the walls themselves were built out of books. Occasionally, there was a painting, but it was nailed over the books.

There was hardly any furniture from what I guessed was a living room. The books were perfectly placed around the entrances and yet not a centimeter of the wall was shown. An old fashioned chandelier hung on the ceiling with vanilla scented candles burning. It was poor lighting, but it was enough to see. In the center, there was a faded green oval carpet. There were no couches or chairs, so I sat on the carpet that surprisingly felt soft under my fingertips.

"Varia?"

I blinked and finally looked away from the ceiling. I looked over at Tristian, who sat crisscrossed across from me. He was closer than usually, I noticed. My heart started to race. Our knees were so close that I could feel his warmth. A shiver raked through my body and Tristian shifted.

"Are you cold?" He asked innocently.

My cheeks flamed and I shook my head. I chugged half the tea, my throat burning as the tea ran down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"N-No. It's just.... Aren't you scared these books are going to, you know, fall on you or something?" I asked, gesturing the room.

Tristian chuckled and looked around. "Surprisingly, no. I made sure it wouldn't."

I raised an eyebrow and took another look around. "So if you ever wanted to read a book from, say the bottom, over there, how do you take it out?"

Tristian looked where I pointed and he shrugged nonchalantly. "I read all these books a hundred times. They got me tired. The ones I'm still interested are in my bedroom."

I almost coughed out my tea, but managed to swallow it down. "You read all of these a hundred times?"

He nodded.

I whistled. "You must have a lot of time on your hands."

He shrugged again and looked down at his lap. He was fiddling with a loose thread when he took a deep breath.

"Tell me." He whispered.

I frowned and scooted a little closer to him. "Tell you what?"

"From the day you moved in. Tell me every strange thing that has happened to you."

My shoulders dropped and I put the cup down. I folded my hands together and rested my elbows on my knees. "My mama died and she left me the house. When I got here for the funeral, I saw how broken the house was. I fixed it up, gave it a nice shine, and I moved in with my kid and Javon." I paused and then told him everything.

I told him about the shadow that attacked me, which he had already heard, but I decided to tell him again. I told him about the dream I had of the shadow, the fingerprint it had left on my arms that was long gone. I told him about Javon's sudden behavior change and how I thought I saw him with black eyes and gray skin, but I didn't say a word about him laying his hand on me. I told him about the homeless girl again and with each event, I saw Tristian rub his neck or noticed how tense his body became.

I skipped the dream about him because I wasn't so sure if I should tell him. I mean, what did it matter? It was only a bizarre dream. It didn't mean anything. Well, at least to me.