mirror game

XII.

After I had awoken from a seemingly long sleep, I decided to have a look at the house. I knew that I was going to get lost but I didn't even give a fuck. I just went through some long corridors, opened a bunch of doors and immediately closed them again because nothing was inside this room. Apart from all the dust of course. There was dust everywhere. I didn't know if Harold was just too lazy to look after the house or if he thought that it looks scarier like this. Because if the latter was the actual case, he'd be even dumber than I thought he was.

I finally found the big hall again, the place where everything started, and I couldn't help but cry when I noticed dried blood on the floor. It was Ansel's blood, it was the exact same spot he died.
I loved that guy. I truly did. But now he's gone and I'm left alone. Lonely. Everyone left me and that depressed me. I mean, there's one aim in life which is love. Being loved by the one you adore so much. For me, that person was Ansel. And Ansel is dead. Now, I wasn't sure if he actually was dead since he appeared the other day but I neither knew if that was just a hallucination because I was going mad anyway so it wouldn't blow me away.

I walked past the blood on the carpet whose edges were all damaged and turned-down. I would have to decide whether I turn right or left or keep going straightforward, where I would soon find the entrance, the exit or simply my way back to liberty. And even though Harold had told me that it would have been up to myself whether I leave or stay inside because of my literal anxiety, I believed that if I only touched the door handle or slightly opened it, something bad would happen and I wanted to avoid more pain. Or fear. Or anxiety. On the other hand, I could give it a try. But I didn't. I glanced into the corridor to my right, then changed looks to the one to my left, then decided to go first left, then right.

So as I walked up the corridor, noticing several paintings hanging on the walls, I also let the words of my other self go through mind. I remembered the words it told me. I got to interact with Harold more, I got to try to seem interested in him. Since I couldn't find him, neither noticed any trace of his presence, I had a new aim. I would search for anything that gets me more information about Harold himself, about his past, how he became a ghost and all of that. I mean, finding out how he lived those 100 years ago would give me hints in how to behave around him, give me hints about how to seem interested in his person. I didn't know the sense of doing that though. Like, my mirror self spoke to me about finding out what it was in Harold doing all these things, like the homicides of all these innocent people, the violent behaviour and lately also the flesh bite to my wrist because we'd seen an other side of him as well. I had some ideas about what it could have been that made him cry when he saw my body blandly laying on the floor in front of him but I didn't want to jump at conclusions so I kind of just got it out of my mind.

I now arrived at an end of the corridor. It was where you would have to decide another time whether you turn left or right but turning right would be stupid because there was only a huge window and another door whereas turning left would be quite intelligent because there were so many doors and I was pretty positive about finding his room somewhere here. Well, no, I wasn't quite that positive because I was rather convinced about his room being somewhere upstairs but whatever. But before I could have made my way to the left, I just felt really bloody attracted by that door by the window. It was a huge window and it gave you a clear view into the garden and you also saw some bit of Newcastle down there. I couldn't see our cars though and that was getting me down again because it gave me yet another feeling that my friends died, more specifically that they were murdered by a little (not so little though) bloody attractive but also incredibly brutal monster guy called Harold Styles that drove me insane. Oh, and also dead. He was dead as well. So he was a ghost haunting his house which is super mega popular in town but I guess he didn't care that much about popularity. I mean, that was the right way to go if he went to high school or college somewhere in America but he was a ghost. And I hated him. Just to add that to my extremely long description about the guy that murdered my friends.

I moved towards the door by the window. It was mosaicked and looked really pretty. It looked more expensive and more valuable than the other ones I had seen on my way to this point of the house. The door handle was golden and when I touched it, I felt biting cold overcoming me. It first spread at my hand with which I touched the handle, then crawled up my arm, to my shoulder until it ultimately reached my brain. It felt all terrifying having coldness in your head. It scared me.

That hasn't happened to me before when I touched anything else in this house. Not even as Harold himself set his hand to me when he bit my arm. It was really queer. But I had to get inside there because it just attracted me so much and I could't stay calm if I just walked away. So I pushed the door handle down and closed my eyes for a moment until even more nipping air reached out for me. I opened my eyes and couldn't believe what I saw.

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sorry it took so long and it's utterly short but yeah

thanks to everyone ily xx