𝟎𝟖, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

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CHAPTER EIGHT; the monsters creep into your house

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CHAPTER EIGHT; the monsters creep into your house

( the black dahlia ) 


[ ʚїɞ ]


WHEN SHE walked into Ophelia Hall, Elizabeth's jaw dropped.

Enid was glaring at Wednesday from across the room, which had been split down the middle with a line of black duct tape. The decorations that had been on Elizabeth and Wednesday's side of the room were stripped away entirely, laying in a heap by Enid's bed. Half of the colored gels upon the window were scraped away, leaving it plain glass.

Elizabeth sighed. "We're sharing this side of the room, and I never said I wanted it to look like this."

Wednesday turned in her chair. "I left your bed as is. It's still as horrifyingly purple as before."

"Thanks . . . for not . . . destroying my bed . . . like you did . . . with everything else . . . It's very much . . . appreciated?"

"By the way, I could've cut apart that little butterfly, too. It was really tempting." Wednesday paused. "Why is that little thing not purple too? It's . . . pink."

"None of your business," Elizabeth snapped.

"Fine then," Wednesday said, waving an impatient hand at Elizabeth. "Silence would be appreciated. This is my writing time."

Elizabeth and Enid eyed each other in shock.

"Your writing time?" Enid demanded at the same time Elizabeth asked, "You write too?"

Enid dramatically sighed, flopping onto her bed. "I can stand one roommate constantly yapping about the setting and plot, but two?" Wednesday glared at Enid, who sat up and added, "Jeez, I'm joking!" She crossed her arms, "Let me guess, it's some sort of horror movie plot filled with blood?"

"Actually, it's about a teenage girl detective," Wednesday answered.

"Sooo . . . a mystery genre?" Enid asked.

Wednesday hesitated. "Something like that."

"That's even worse!" Enid groaned. "Now I'll have to suffer through both of you planning how to let some characters get away with crime!"

"Actually murder," Wednesday corrected."

Elizabeth flinched—writing her book suddenly didn't seem so appealing anymore with the offer hanging over her head.

Enid sighed. "So both of you are writing murder mysteries?"

Wednesday looked at Elizabeth in surprise. "You write murder mysteries, too?"

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