At first, Sofie mistakes the person for some sort of demonic spirit, until they speak again and she recognises their voice.

"Didn't anyone teach you that it was rude to stare, girl?" Malcolm asks in a deep, angry cadence.

Sofie swallows the lump that has formed in her throat and tries to calm the rapid pace of her heart.

"I'm sorry..." she chokes. "I didn't hear you come in."

The corners of Malcolm's eyes wrinkle with amusement, the scarred skin around his none existent lips moving morbidly when he purrs, "You were distracted."

His dark irises flicker down to the book she is clutching close to her chest like a shield and an odd look of exhilaration shines through them as he asks, "What is that you have there?"

Sofie blinks, still fighting to get over the shock brought on by the sight of his horrific face, and replies in a strained voice, "I haven't read it yet."

Malcolm's gaze return to her face.

"Would you like me to save you the trouble by telling you how it ends?"

His question immediately piques Sofie's interest.

"You've read it?" she says.

"I have read every book in this room at least a hundred times," he replies with what Sofie assumes is a deformed half-smile.

She glances down at the book in her hands, pondering for a moment, before looking back up to him.

"I think I'd prefer to read it myself," she answers honestly, her voice nothing but a mumble which Malcolm hears loud and clear.

"Very well then," he says, suddenly moving towards the armchair. Sofie stiffens when he brushes past her, every fibre of her body telling her to leave. Instead, she turns to face him as he settles down.

"What happened to you?"

The question has left her lips before she can stop it and she slaps a hand over her mouth, horrified that she just asked the question out loud. Malcolm's eyes narrow considerably, the previous anger from moments ago returning.

"Sorry," she apologises quickly. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Yes, you did," he breathes, relaxing back into the chair. "Otherwise you wouldn't have."

He studies her thoughtfully for a long moment while she stands there, her heart beating a nervous rhythm against her ribs.

"It is a long story full of dolour," he finally replies.

"I don't know what that word means," she answers truthfully, "but I know I'm a good listener."

Malcolm chuckles at her response, the harshness in his eyes softening.

Staring at her curiously, he tilts his head to the side and murmurs, "Aren't human children meant to be asleep at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," Sofie says, frowning at his choice of words. Seventeen is far from being a child.

"And why is that?" Malcolm queries.

"I'm..." She hesitates, biting her lower lip, before admitting her feelings. "...homesick."

"I see," he says, appearing thoughtful again, before asking, "How about a trade then? "

"A trade?" Sofie repeats, not understanding what he means.

"I will tell you my story," Malcolm explains, "if you tell me who you were conversing with earlier."

The realisation hits her like a bucketful of cold water. Uh-oh.

"Myself," she lies smoothly. It is a lie she has told many times before throughout her life and she isn't going to stop now.

"Don't lie to me, girl," he hisses, making her flinch from surprise. "I heard you."

Sofie swallows, anxiety making the lump in her throat reemerge. This is something she can never tell anyone, ever. His eyes harden again when she remains silent.

"Fine then," he says dismissively. "Keep your secrets and I will keep mine. Perhaps it is for the best."

Sofie glances at the ground, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot. She knows she should leave but guilt nags at her, followed by the need to explain.

"It's just not something I'm used to talking about," she mutters, hoping he will understand. "I'm-"

"Afraid."

His voice holds something... Empathy, perhaps? Comprehension, at least.

Sofie looks back up and stares into the murky depths of his eyes, getting a startling sense that this man is just like her. He's different. Maybe in ways similar to her own.

The grandfather clock in the library suddenly chimes loudly, breaking the strange connection between them.

"Three AM," Malcolm murmurs in explanation when Sofie is startled. "The witching hour."

She stares at him, wide-eyed. When the clock's chiming stops, she takes a step back.

"I should go."

"Yes," Malcolm agrees. "I think that is a great idea. You do not want to be alone in the dark without anyone to protect you." His eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement once more. "You might meet something uglier than me."

Sofie listens to her instincts this time and flees the library. As she runs blindly down the dark halls, she hears the ghostly echoes of Malcolm's laughter.

Panicked, she takes the stairs two at a time, her heart beating as loud as her footfalls, and it's only once she is safely back in the bedroom does she realise that she still holds the strange leather-bound book in her hands.

___.___

Well, that wasn't creepy at all 😐 I really enjoyed writing this chapter from Sofie's pov and I hope you enjoyed reading it too.