Chapter 127
**Seven years ago**
I had known him for only a short time, yet there were certain buttons on my body that already seemed to be controlled by him.
As I followed him to the orphanage, my stomach twisted and I squirmed with the cold sensation of seeing him from behind, carrying his shadow with him.
My God.
I had never crossed the fence of the orphanage before. Not out of fear or anything like that, but because it wasn’t my place. Now, there was someone letting me in, and that person was the one with the most rumors about him, none of which were good.
God, my parents are going to kill me if they find out, was my internal conflict. However, every time Dante turned to check if I was following him, my demons took over.
It was okay to walk with him.
“Did I scare you?”
His question cut through the air.
“Why are you asking that?”
“Your breathing is driving me crazy, and I think God is upset with how much you’ve already called for Him.”
“Oh, my God.”
Dante looked at me and gave an agonizing eye roll.
“You need to have more confidence in yourself.”
“I do.”
“If you really don’t want to, you can leave.”
“I don’t want to! I promised I would teach you, so I will.”
“You haven’t promised me anything yet, Gray.”
After a while of walking, we could see the silhouette of the white buildings that gave the orphanage its name. It wasn’t as creepy or shadowy as expected from the place. It was inviting, actually, monochromatic, combining with the bluish tone of the sky and the white spots of the clouds.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but when I thought we were going to enter through the front door, Dante pulled me and led me to a shortcut. We stepped on plants and some strange creatures until we came face to face with a brown door made of old wood.
What I thought was inviting became a warehouse of dead bodies.
“I’m not going to kidnap you,” he shot, pushing the door open with a creak.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought it.”
“Now you can read minds?” I asked indignantly.
“You don’t need to when you’re an open book, more so than a prostitute’s legs.”
Oh.
“Have you seen a prostitute’s legs...?”
Dante examined me with amusement and didn’t answer, snickering nasally.
He intertwined his fingers with my cold wrist, creating a thermal shock that bombarded my chest. I tried not to show any emotions since he seemed to have some sort of power to understand my body chemistry.
I was beginning to think they mistook a killer for a psychic.
We followed the narrow, dimly lit path. Fortunately, we quickly reached our destination, and my eyes couldn’t hide the fascination when I saw the size of the place.
“Wow.”
It was the most I could exhale from my lungs.
“I know you wanted to curse,” Faulkner commented, receiving a grimace from me.
The library wasn’t big. The space was contained, the white walls simulated space, but the shelves gave the exact measurements. What took my breath away were the overflowing shelves, the lights strategically placed to beautify the area with a reddish hue. The dark tones and old ornaments added to the sense that the Addams Family might have painted the space.
There were some tables the same color as the black wood scattered around. The silence also seemed to have its own character amidst so many works.
“Did you like it?” he asked, close to my ear.
“It’s beautiful, but it feels a bit abandoned,” I commented, stepping back.
“The orphans here don’t really feel like reading.”
“That’s a shame.”
“We’re more worried about thinking about our future than understanding a pair of letters.”
His acidic response was painful.
“It’s much more than understanding.”
His eyebrows arched.
“Is there telepathy involved?” he mocked, suggesting a joke.
“No, you jerk,” I muttered, wiping my finger on the dust of the shelf. “Reading is an escape from what hurts you. My teacher always says that.”
Dante smiled sideways.
“She lied to you. Reading doesn’t escape you from anything. It traps you. Anything you use to hide from your own problems and frustrations will be in vain. They will double the intensity of the situation. That’s why there are so many addicts. They are deceived by thoughts like these.”
I furrowed my brow, annoyed by his unpleasant argument.
“You’re practically saying reading is a drug.”
“Anything that gets you hooked is a drug.”
I crossed my arms.
“For someone who can’t read, you sure have a lot of opinions on books.”
To my surprise, Dante burst out laughing unusually. The sound reverberated intensely, breaking the air into something purely joyful. His laugh was dark and hoarse.
“Your mouth is a problem we need to fix someday.”
Idiot.
That was the only word swirling in my head as I pulled out the books and he judged my colored pencils.
Was he calling me a problem? I wasn’t!
My parents loved me exactly for being one of the few children who caused trouble at school. I was an exemplary student, even though I wasn’t the best violinist or pianist, I had some talent. Plus, I was really good at golf. I beat all the elderly people in the city.
He had no right to call me a problem.
Dante was the only one who smelled like trouble.