Shining Hill

Chapter 6

Zander's mind was yelling at nothing as he glared at the ceiling. Well, he supposed he was yelling at himself, arguing about everything and nothing at the same time. He was tired, but his mind kept reeling at the sounds that creaked around him. Just a settling old house, but Zander was pretty sure it would fall at any moment.

All of this was an excuse, though, and he knew it. He remembered his own dream, and it was a good dream, but it was just a dream. If he fell asleep again, he knew he would go back, but then he would have to wake up again and that was something he could not stand.

Anger flared in him and, with a growl of frustration, he picked up his pillow and threw it across the room. Zander's eyes were alight with fury that not even he understood. He wanted to punch something in his frustration, he wanted to set something on fire and watch it burn, he wanted to physically destroy something.

A part of him, oddly sounding like his sister, told him to calm down.

He mentally told it to fuck off and then laid back on the bed with a puff of air escaping his lips.

A clam seemed to come over him as he stared at the patterns of the ceiling.

It didn't mean Zander couldn't feel the emotions, swirling inside him like a strong undercurrent hidden by calm waters, but he refused to let them win. This was a battle, and he would succeed, even if that meant he would have to burn something down.

Not that he needed to burn something down, he wasn't a fucking pyromaniac for Christ sake, but he needed to do something.

The room brightened further, and Zander soon gave up on the idea of going back to sleep. He sat up and glared at the emptiness of his room, wishing for his old room, and hating himself for it.

Zander could feel the heaviness and puffiness of his eyes, and cursed Annette for waking him up.

The details of Zander's dream kept drifting away as he stayed awake, but he remembered it was warm. There was light everywhere, and there was a sense of peace. He could faintly hear a woman's voice and he thought it could have been his mother, but he didn't remember.

They are coming. Zander blinked at nothing and then rubbed his face. He was sure the woman had said that, but he couldn't remember.

He sighed and got up.

The floorboards were cold, making him shiver, and he could almost see his breath with how chilled the air was. He put on socks and draped the blanket over his shoulders as he walked to his door, wishing his clothes where there already so he could have his jackets. He cursed himself for thinking he didn't need any jackets in the summer. He cursed his sister for convincing him to come here early. He cursed—

He paused, his anger unable to touch that one subject he was most furious at, he most wanted to be untrue, and he most wanted to destroy. He wished it was a physical problem he could punch, but it wasn't. There wasn't anything for him to yell at, and he didn't know how to deal with that.

It took him a while to find a stairway to the first floor. Zander cursed the layout of the old house, its being just as twisted and weird as the outside. Zander was sure that whoever built it had used the Winchester Mystery House as reference, and he wanted to strangle them with the house's blueprints.

The staircase he found lead to the living room.

Zander didn't feel comfortable in this room, but something caught his eye.

Zander had spent the time yesterday, when the Warren's were over, to study the room, but he kept finding new things too look at that he hadn't seen before. The walls were covered in pictures, of people he knew and people he didn't. One picture had caught his attention the day before, one that made him glance at his sister, but she wasn't paying attention to the environment.