Burn slow

Chapter 1| Back home

I just left Nevermore after the premature ending of the first semester.

I stepped in the great hall in Addams' Manor and felt the stuffing smell of dust and something decomposing. It's how my home smells. That calmed me down. I gave a quick glance at the hall and continued my way to my room:
- My little storm cloud, you're at home,  - I heard father's voice and stopped just for a moment. I saw smiling faces of my parents and those sweat smiles made me nauseous. I wasn't in the mood to talk so those words only irritated me.
- Wednesday! - Pugsley got overwhelmed with emotions. And I do not like emotions.
- Hello, Parents. Hello Pugsley, - the only thing that they heard from me. I even did not turn around. I just headed to my room. My brother wanted to hug me but I just passed by.

The squeaking door of my room just closed behind my back. Nothing changed. My stuff still waited for me being lined up in a strict order.

A big old wooden table ready to welcome me for writing a new chapter of my novel was located between two tremendous high windows which I've always hated. I would rather live in a crypt with no windows at all.

The big black oak bad was placed at the right side of the room. A coal-black canopy has always saved me from intrusive sunlight in the morning. I lay on a firm mattress and closed my eyes. Merciless memories were snooping around my mind with nonstop giving me no chance to relax.

I didn't show that to anybody but I was exhausted. I succumbed to feelings to a boy who was responsible for murders in Jericho and then I almost died fighting with a resurrected crazy pilgrim.

How could I be so blind? How I could I succumb to feelings? How could I not feel the smell of murder out of Tyler? The smell of blood has always been one of my favourite flavours.

I just reassured again that feelings lead to bad things. Not in a good meaning. Emotions demand huge exhaust. So next time I won't run into the same trap.

*Vibration*

I heard the noise of this hell device out of one of my bags which had been already delivered to my room.

I reached the phone and saw a message from Xavier:
"Hey, did you get home well?"

I looked at the phone haughtily. I still stuck to the point that social media and other kinds of modern technology spoiled the personality. And actually I didn't know how my answer should have looked like. But I didn't have neither time nor mood to contemplate on it. So I left the message unread having gone for a haunt. Maybe, torturing Pugsley could raise my spirits?