1.9 ◇ Look After You

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Brendon was sitting on the bed I had used and was reading a book when I reentered the room.

He glanced up at me and his eyes widened as he caught sight of my new self. He opened his mouth to say something, and closed it again shortly after, letting his gaze linger on me longer than I was comfortable with.

During all that, I just awkwardly stood there, not knowing how to handle this situation.

Luckily Brendon caught himself soon enough and shook his head, a smirk wandering back onto his lips, just like I was used to.

"Now that's better isn't it? I barely recognize you," he chuckled, but avoided my gaze.

He got up from the bed and beckoned me to follow him out of the room. I did so without question, eying the corridor we emerged in with awe. It was so much more than I had ever hoped to see.

There were pictures hanging on the walls, of important looking people, the countryside and animals, my favorite being a painting of a small puppy, which was lying by a fireplace.

The wooden floor was covered with a red carpet, and it didn't creak upon walking on it.

What I enjoyed most about this house was the warmth. And not just in the sense of temperature, but also that everything seemed so welcoming and cozy.

"This is beautiful," I whispered with wide eyes.

Brendon laughed, as if he thought I was joking, but I really wasn't. It was the most welcoming place I had set foot in in my entire life. It screemed home all over, and I didn't even live here.

"I'm sure you'll change your mind about that soon... welcome to part two."

I curiously walked through the door he held open for me and was speechless, this time not out of awe, but out of... dissapointment?

We had arrived in what I assumed was the main part of the house, judging by the size.

It was a room with a staircase in the middle, spiralling downwards. There was no carpet in this room, but cold, shiny tiles. There was one drawing on the wall opposite of the door we had come through, and it was truly gruesom; it showed my boss, as in Mr. Urie senior, standing with one foot on the corpse of a deer, a gun held in his hand and a smug grin plastered all over his ugly face.

"That's horrible," I gasped, completely overthrown by shock and forgetting that I should probably be polite to thank him for his hospitality.

Brendon simply shrugged and led the way down the stairs.

I gave the painting one last look before following him, hoping that I wouldn't be confronted with a painting of Brendon himself in a similar way.

The rest of the house was similar to the horrible painting room, full of terrible paintings and radiating coldness, and I couldn't help but shiver.

"Sit down," Brendon insisted as we came to a room with a huge table in the middle. A set of plates, forks and knives were set at the far end, where the shorter held out a chair for me.

I complied and nervously fiddled with my hands under the table. Unlike the earlier section of the house, the one we were in now felt like a trap, and not a bit like home.

I felt uncomfortable here. Like I was being watched.

The lady that had checked up on me earlier now hurried into the room, pushing a tray of various sorts of foods.

I could feel myself drooling just at the sight, not to mention the delicious scent rising from it.

Fiddling with my fingers some more, I watched as she loaded something onto my plate, and poured a glass of water for me.

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