I lie in bed and think about Ro. I'm so happy for her, yet I feel myself wishing I was happy, too. Seriously, Scarlett, I think, you're still jealous?! I sigh and sneak a glance at Ro, who is sound asleep. Guinevere is up writing something or other.
Am I any bit as unique as they are? I mean, Guinevere doesn't admit it, but she loves to write; Ro -- well, she's not the bravest of people, but she's really smart. What does that make me? Dumb blonde?
Though I didn't feel it coming, a soft tear rolls down my cheek as I contemplate my fate. I need to find my vocation. I need to have a life other than clothes and makeup and accessories.
"Scarlett, get up!" Guinevere calls. "Did you not sleep last night?"
I open my groggy eyes and peek at her. I don't reply to her question, because I know she intended for it to be rhetoric, but in my head I think,no, not at all.I almost don't want to go shopping, but I get up.
We scarf down a quick breakfast and make our way down the streets of New York. What now? They usually count on me to lead when there is shopping involved. "Guinevere, why don't you pick what we do, today. I'm a little worn out," I tell her. She gapes at me as if I just told her that squirrels would be ruling the world, but nods her head. "How about we just walk around, and if we see something interesting we can go ahead with that?" she asks us. Ro and I nod and start walking down the street. We engage in conversation while we walk, talking about when we met. (We were roommates). We didn't like each other at all, and we ended up being best friends. I laugh as I recall our first encounter.
"Hey, guys, I see a really cute bookshop up the street. Can we go in there?" Ro asks.
"Sure," I reply, happy for something more to do.
After walking across the street, we step inside. The walls are beige, with old black and white photographs scattered randomly around the shop. The books are old and dusty, but Ro is plenty happy here, so I sit down on an old couch and look around the room. Almost at once, my eyes stop over a concealed staircase that appears to lead to another part of the shop. I stand up and walk over.
Gazing down the steps, I can see that there are more books. It appears to be a cellar of some kind. I walk down for the same reason I'm nervous -- I have no idea what I will face.
I reach the bottom step quickly, and I am immediately met with more books. One thing peculiar is that the books are all on one side of the wall, and it looks like they are trying to conceal something. Immediately curious, I make to push the bookshelf aside. After a few minutes of pushing and heaving, I am somewhat surprised. For when I pushed the bookshelf aside I found a door.
It is made of thick wood -- about three inches -- and has one of those bronze, rusted locks. It fits to an old key (I can tell by the keyhole) and I search the bookshelf in vain, my curiosity having gotten ahold of me.
After about five minutes of flinging old papers around and tossing books onto the floor, I find what I'm looking for. I insert the key into the lock and turn it. It moves sharply, and I slowly pull the door open.
I take a step into the darkness, look up, and gasp, having found something I didn't believe to exist.
And I scream.