The Traitorous Reader

The hospital faded into the distance as we walked silently along the road. The asphalt gave way to a dirt path and dry leaves that crunched beneath our feet. The sound of cars was replaced by the barking of dogs and the creaking of tree branches swaying in the night breeze. The full moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the path and making the shadows seem to move.

Lian led the way, his tall, dark figure silhouetted against the starry sky, creating an imposing outline that seemed to clear a path through the darkness. His black hair, disheveled and straight, moved gently in the wind, while I felt like I was venturing into unknown territory, without a map or compass to guide me.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me, his piercing gaze sending a shiver down my spine. "How do you feel?" he asked, his low, gravelly voice filled with concern that surprised me.

His dark red eyes, which seemed to burn with an intensity that intimidated me, rested on my face, as if searching for something beyond the surface. I touched my cheek, which was still sore from the blow, and tried to smile, although the pain and confusion made me feel uncomfortable.

"It hurts a little," I admitted, my voice barely audible. Lian nodded and continued walking. "We're not far now. We'll be in a safe place soon."

The vegetation began to close in around us, and the path became a narrow, winding trail that led into the woods. The trees loomed above us, their branches whispering in the night breeze. The air was filled with the scent of damp earth and dry leaves.

An old, abandoned house stood in the midst of the woods. The house seemed to have an oppressive atmosphere, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I approached it. The front door was old and rusty, and it creaked when Lian pushed it open.

As we entered the house, we were greeted by a young man who seemed to be Lian's reflection. However, his appearance was more relaxed, more human. His light brown hair, wavy and slightly long, fell across his forehead in disheveled locks.

His skin, pale but warm, seemed to radiate a sense of well-being, and his gaze was a mixture of curiosity and interest. He looked at me with surprise and compassion. "What happened?" his voice was filled with concern.

Lian approached him and explained the situation in a low voice. He listened attentively, his gaze shifting from Lian to me.

When Lian finished speaking, he turned to me. "I'm so sorry," his coral-colored lips curved slightly as he looked at me. "We didn't know you'd been falsely accused."

I felt a little more at ease as I saw the concern on his face. "Thanks," I said, trying to smile.

Luca nodded and turned to Lian. "We need to talk about this," he said, gesturing to the space between us. "There's something that doesn't add up."

Lian nodded, and the two brothers retreated to a side room to talk in private. I was left alone in the room, trying to process everything that had happened.

Now I was presumed dead, my life's work gone, everything I had worked for my entire life had vanished. I looked around at the dusty wooden walls and water stains.

I didn't know these people, and it was dangerous to stay here, but I couldn't go anywhere since my face was everywhere.

Both brothers appeared behind me, and I turned to see them approaching. Luca sat down in a chair in front of me, his gaze attentive and curious.

Lian stood behind him, his presence silent but palpable. "So, what do you know about our sister's death?" Luca asked, his voice firm but not aggressive.

I felt a little uncomfortable under his intense gaze. I swallowed hard, trying to organize my thoughts. "I don't know much," I admitted. "I just know that I was accused of being the killer, but I didn't do it."

Luca nodded, his gaze unchanged. "What do you know about the book?" Lian asked, his voice low and grave.

I shrugged. "I don't know anything about a book," I lied, trying to maintain my calm.

Lian moved behind Luca, his presence more intense. "Don't lie," he said. "Who wrote the book?"

I felt a shiver run down my spine. "I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted, trying to maintain the lie.

Luca leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Adara, please," he said. "We need to know the truth. What do you know about the book and my sister's death?"

I swallowed hard, trying to decide what to do. I could keep lying, but something in Luca's gaze made me feel like it was time to tell the truth. Or at least, part of it.

"It's okay," Luca said, his voice soft. "We'll believe you. Just tell us what you know."

I took a deep breath and began to speak. "I remember receiving an email from an anonymous reader," I said. "He told me that he was a big fan of my work and that he wanted to know more about my creative process."

I started responding to him, and soon we found ourselves in a daily email conversation. Luca and Lian were watching me intently, their eyes fixed on me. I felt like they were analyzing me, and I didn't know what to do with my hands due to my nerves.

"My editor and friend, Simón, had warned me about the anonymous reader," I continued. "He told me that he was a weird guy, always asking about my creative process and my sources of inspiration. But I didn't listen to him. I thought he was just another fan."

I paused for a moment, remembering the feeling of discomfort I had felt. "And then, the anonymous reader sent me a manuscript," I continued. "It was a murder case, a case that seemed very realistic to me. The victim's name was Clarion, and according to the manuscript, she had died from an overdose. But there was something about it that didn't add up. Something that made me feel like it wasn't just a fictional story."

Luca and Lian looked at each other, and then back at me expectantly. "What happened next?" Luca asked softly.

I paused for a moment, trying to compose myself. "I told the anonymous reader that I wasn't interested in including the story in my book," I continued. "I told him that my book was about fictional cases, and that the story he had sent me wasn't what I was looking for. But he didn't give up. He told me that if I didn't publish the story, he would make me pay, and the target would be my cat."

My voice broke, and I felt my tears clouding my vision. "And then, I woke up in the morning and found that the book had been published online," I continued, trying to hold back my tears. "I didn't know what had happened. I didn't know how it had been published, since it had my name and signature on it. But I knew it wasn't me who had done it."

Luca and Lian were looking at me with surprise and confusion. "What did the book say?" Lian asked.

I swallowed hard, remembering the contents of the book. "It said that I had murdered Clarion," I said, my voice barely audible. "It said that I had confessed to the crime in the book. But that's not true. I didn't kill Clarion. I don't know who did."

My voice broke again, and I felt the salty taste of my tears. Luca and Lian looked at each other, and then back at me with a mixture of surprise and compassion.

"I'm so sorry, Adara," Luca said. "We didn't know you had been falsely accused. We thought..."

"What did you think?" I asked, my voice filled with curiosity.

"We thought you were the author of the book," Lian said. "We thought you had written the story to confess to your crime. And now, half the world sees me as a murderer, a ruthless and conscienceless person."

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. "That's ridiculous," I said, trying to contain my anger. "I didn't kill Clarion. I never even met Clarion, except that she's your sister, that's all."

My voice broke again, and the tears I had been holding back finally flowed, mixing their salty taste with the sadness that overwhelmed me.

"I don't know what's going on," I breathed with difficulty. "I don't know who's behind all this. But I know I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I know I'm not the author of that book. And I know I won't give up until I discover the truth."