Help from a stranger
I wake through Millbury Mansion. The floorboards creak and groan like an un-oiled machine. The smell of mothballs and dust fill my nose. The dirt coats the bottoms my callused bare feet, and the feeling of being watched constantly pokes at my overdeveloped brain. I can feel the chill coming up from the basement and the thickness of the old air from being used by so many people for so many years but never being replaced.
There's nothing here but the records and some dinnerware. Most of it was taken but previous owners or stolen by bandits, a few of which I watched but didn't care to confront. That furniture was useless to me. No one wants to pay for it here and I don't need it.
It's June. I haven't gone to town in two months. I'm almost out of supplies. I don't have the patience today to get any. Doesn't matter anyway. Humans can go at least a month without food and I have water. If I am human. I honestly don't know anymore. Maybe I'm as loony as they say.
I carve another mark into the wall of the room I have chosen to sleep in. Sometimes I wonder how old I am. I lost track after a few years. Not that it matters.
I hear a sharp knock. My senses go haywire as I walk to the door. I don't feel anything malicious. Only caring. Odd.
I open the door to the boy from the coffee shop. White plastic bags hang from his lean yet muscled arm and a tray of hot coffee is in his hand. I look at the concerned smile on his face and shut the door. Another knock. I open the door again.
"What?" I say in a harsh tone. My almost emotionless mirror eyes bore into his vivid green ones as if I'm imagining every possible way to kill him. I love that I have the ability to look like that. It's rather amusing.
"I just didn't see anyone like you in town and I figured something happened so I came to check on you" He informs me with a shrug. Idiot. Do you know what this place is? My expression remains unchanging and he must get the message because he sets the bags and a coffee on the ground and leaves. I slam the door.
"What kind of absolute moron comes up to Millbury manner for the nutcase who lives in it. Even I know it's dangerous" I mumble lowly and open the ashen door again. Pity that such a beautiful door would be left in this state. However if it was taken care of you wouldn't see the thick claw marks running across the wood, splitting the grain.
I pull the bags inside and leave the coffee. Strong smells make them stir. My brain recalls the old, dusty records.
I unpack the groceries carefully. Eggs, milk, bread, sugar. All the essentials and even some snacks. I grumble at the thought of anyone doing this for me and refill the old, rickety ice box. Everything here seems old and rickety. It's a perfect cover.
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Shorter chapter I know, but suspense is my favourite tool. As always thank you for reading and please correct my spelling errors if you see any!
-Kitty
