House Of Nightmares

Chapter One: Basophobia

As you read this, pay close attention to every single detail. If I had, it might have saved a lot of lives. If you value yours, pay attention.
About a year ago, I was handed some... pretty shocking news. I was basically told I barely knew who I was, or what the world was.
It's hard enough finding out someone you know has been lying. Imagine finding out you've been lying to yourself for fourteen years and you never knew! It sounds impossible, but please, just stay with me here.
My name is Edelie Fabron. I lived in France until I was two. Then I came to the beautiful land of Canada, which is much colder than Versailles.
Enough about me. If you've ever made something inexplainable happen, don't call Hogwarts, just run. If you've ever seen something unexplainable, run. If you see someone who reminds you of a snake, run. And if they call you something you don't understand, like "Heights" or "Pain", run as fast as you possibly can-- if you can escape.
I first needed to run on December 4th. I didn't.

I started to suspect something was wrong when Kendra Welle started puking blood in the girls bathroom.
Kendra was my friend-- my best friend, actually. We spent loads of time together, whether it was watching classic movies, fangirling over cute celebrities, or even just doing homework. We were inseparable.
So when Kendra asked me to leave her alone, I started to suspect.
We were by our lockers. Well, her locker. She was getting papers out for English when she dropped the bomb.
"I can't come over today. Leave me alone, please."
"Mon dieu, Kendra," I said, so surprised that I slipped back into my native language. That's how often we hung out. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, obviously not fine. I noticed her delicate hands were a bit shaky, her dark skin seemed sort of pale, and her hazel eyes seemed a bit unfocused, like she wasn't sure where to look.
"You sick?"
"You always know." She picked up a pencil and instantly dropped it. I immediately got it for her. When I handed it to her, our hands touched for only a second, but they were freezing cold. "Thanks, Edelie. Yeah, I just don't feel great right now." She dropped the pencil again and frowned at it. "As you can see."
"Kendra, I can help. The French have the best cuisine in the world. I'll cook you up quelque chose de  delicieux while you relax and watch a Tom Holland movie."
Kendra smiled weakly and picked up her English binder. "Just let me be alone. I'm sorry, but that's the most you can do for me right now. Just don't try to help me, okay?"
She then stumbled away, leaving an open locker, a forgotten pencil, and a very hurt French girl.

I couldn't stop thinking about her all the way through my first class, Math. And my second class, Home Ec. And so on and so forth.
At lunch, I burst out of the band room after a long while of our teacher yelling at the trumpets, anxious to see how Kendra was doing.
She wasn't by her locker.
She wasn't in the art room.
She wasn't in the cafeteria.
I was about to give up and go eat lunch in the math room when this really annoying girl named Laya came bursting out of the bathroom with two of her cronies. They were squealing and pretending to be grossed out.
"Ugh. She thinks she can just threaten us like that! Ha! As if!"
Yes. Yes she did say as if. I'm telling you, this girl was Cher combined with Regina combined with Gizmo from Gremlins.
And maybe a good dose of Voldemort.
While this was running through my head, Laya flipped her hair and rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Kendra's such an idiot."
I raised my head and glared at her. "Excuse me?"
"No one asked you, Edelie."
"Where is she?"
Laya rolled her eyes again. "Your girlfriend's in there dying," she sneered, motioning in the general direction of the girls' bathroom.
My heart stopped. I pushed past Laya and her friends (who responded with "Idiot!" and "Go away!" and a quite obscene comment from Laya that is too dirty to put in this book) and slowly opened the door to the girls bathroom.
Ever heard someone vomit? That horrible retching, splatting noise you hear- maybe a few words in there somewhere? That's what I heard as I entered the bathroom.
In between splats, I heard a weak, quiet voice saying things like "Oh, God" or "Help me" or "What's wrong with me" if they could even finish the last one. It was more like "What's wrong wi-SPLAT".
I located the source of the horrible noise and peeked into the first bathroom stall. There sat Kendra, leaning over a toilet and vomiting. She heard me coming and took big gulps of air, trying to calm her stomach. "Edelie... help..."
I practically shrieked at Kendra as I said in French, "Je t'ai demandé si tu avais besoin de l'aide, mais qu'est ce que tu a dit? Non! Ben, regardez maintenant, Kendra, maintenant est-ce que tu as besoin-"
"English, Edelie," Kendra said feebly before puking again.
"Right, sorry." I knelt down beside her and tried not to look in the toilet. "Come on, Kendra, breathe."
"Edelie, look."
"Look where?"
"Look at the vomit, Edelie, just look, please."
"Je ne veux pas regarder votre-" But then I looked. She wasn't just sick. In the toilet bowl, there was nothing but water and blood.
Blood.
"Oh mon dieu. Internal bleeding?"
"I don't know- I don't think I ate anything weird- what's wrong with me?" She vomited up more blood, making my stomach churn.
"Okay... I'll tell Mr. Gerald." Our principal. He kind of sucks as a person but whatever. In that moment, I needed a figure of authority to help me. I didn't know what to do and I needed someone to help me.
So I ran out into the hall, into the office, and screeched, "MONSIEUR GERALD I NEED YOUR HELP!"
I wasn't just panicking- although, to say I wasn't panicking at all would be a huge lie. Mr. Gerald is just old and a bit hard of hearing. And by a bit, I mean a school bus once crashed into the wall of the class next door and he thought a pencil had been dropped.
So when I screamed at him, he looked up like I'd spoken at a normal volume. The vice-principal, Ms. Saffron, however, almost fell over at the sheer sound of my voice. By the way, my voice is loud.
Mr. Gerald smiled, revealing pink gums and few teeth. He rubbed his balding head. "Edelie! Pleased to see you. What do you need help with?"
"KENDRA IS VOMITING UP BLOOD IN THE BATHROOM!"
"Oh, dear. Ms Saffron?" Ms Saffron, who had actually fallen over at my second time yelling, stood up and brushed her skirt off. "Kindly go help Kenny-"
"Kendra, Mr Gerald."
"Yes, that's what I said. Kenny. Go help her, please and thank you!"
Ms Saffron scrambled away, leaving me alone with the principal. He smiled. "So, Edelie. How are you?"
"I'M FINE, THANKS. HOW ARE YOU?"
"I am doing very well, thanks for asking! Do you have any idea why Kenny is vomiting blood?"
"NO IDEA, MONSIEUR GERALD!"
"Hmm. That's strange. Well. Run along, go back to your classes!"
"IT'S LUNCHTIME, MONSIEUR GERALD!"
"Oh. Well, then, go eat."
I quickly left. I could hear faint sobbing coming from the bathroom, and Ms Saffron trying to comfort Kendra.
Stupid Laya was still standing in a group outside. They were gossiping and laughing. When Laya made a fake vomiting sound and pretended to throw up, I knew who they were gossiping about.
Here's a fun fact about me: my anger is not very easily controlled. If you talk crap about my friend, I will march up to you and punch you in your idiotic face.
Which is the treatment Laya received.
Her head jerked back, blood streaming out of her nose. But there was something else there. A red blister- like she got a splash of acid on her face, or... like something burned it.
She shrieked- for real this time- and put a hand on the blister. "You burned me! You burned me! What did you do to me?"
I stepped back. Y'all should also know that at the time if anyone mentioned burning I would step back in fear, the reason for which is a very long story. "I just punched you, I didn't burn you! How the hell would I do that?"
"You still did," Laya spluttered, the blister turning an ugly red as it cooled. "I don't know how, but how the hell do you want to explain how you burned me?"
"I didn't, I swear!"
"Liar!" Laya's cronies soon all joined in with shouts of "Liar" and "Bully", which is called being a hypocrite, dear children.
I didn't want to tell her the sensation I had felt in my hands after I had punched her in her ugly lying face. I didn't want to explain the warm tingling feeling that was in my hands at the time. Like a fire was coursing through my blood. That may sound exciting, but it scared me half to death.
Okay, long exciting backstory time. It will explain to you a few things, like- why the frick did you leave France?- and also- Why are you so afraid of fire?
Because when I was two, my parents died in a house fire.
Imagine feeling that pain, knowing your parents are dead, coming out with scars and burns, barely surviving, and then feeling it course through your veins.
That is the stuff of nightmares.
And no one likes nightmares.
But the pain was real, and so was the fire.