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I woke the next morning, or afternoon, surprisingly intact - a little uncomfortable from sleeping on top of throw-pillow peak - and the harsh sunlight burnt my eyes when I opened them just a crack - and there was a dull ache in my nose, which I couldn’t quite understand…Until my brain finally kick-started itself again. I’d forgotten to take my stud out before I fell asleep the previous night, that’s what the ache was. Great… Letting out a quiet huff which somehow ended in a jaw-cracking yawn, I stood and tilted my head to the left then the right, stretching out my sore neck. When I heard a satisfying click I looked over at the mirror and frowned. My hair was stuck up in all sorts of odd angles, my clothes where unbelievably creased, my eyeshadow was no longer just around my eyes and right there, at the side of my left nostril, was the little bugger that was causing the pain in my face. My frown deepened when it glittered in the sunlight leaking through the window like blazing golden laser beams. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to flatten it so it appeared somewhat presentable, and when I no longer looked like a hungover rocker palm tree I took one more look at myself, my frown lessening slightly, then headed towards the door to start my search for the bathroom. Once I was out in the hallway, I decided that I had three options for what my plan of action would be. The first option was to randomly open doors and hope that I got to the bathroom before I invaded someone’s privacy. Somehow, that didn’t seem like the best idea. The second option was to walk around with panda eyes until I could find someone to ask where the bathroom was. That idea didn’t hold much appeal either. As I looked down the hallway - two doors down on the other side - I considered my third option…which was by far the best. It turns out that none of those options were necessary, because as soon as I started walking I heard a door open behind me and the thick, damp stench of steam filled my nostrils. So it just so happened that the bathroom found me… “Well hi there…” a voice practically purred from behind, and I quickly spun to face its owner - who was tall, blonde, and half naked. He watched me with a childish smirk fixed onto his face: an expression that was completely different to Dunstan’s last night…Dunstan’s smirk was dark, and make me feel all hot and flushed…This smirk now just irritated me. All of a sudden, the door at the other side of me opened and I cast a quick glimpse over my shoulder to see who was creeping up behind me now. I blinked at the identical copy of the half-nude blonde, who was stood in the doorway to another bedroom, I suspected. The only difference between the two that I could see were that the one opposite me now was fully clothed in a blue and white check shirt and dark grey skinny jeans and his fair hair was styled in carefully crafted chaos, whereas the one stood at the entrance to the bathroom’s hair was dripping down in front of his eyes. “What do we have here?” the clothed clone said with a grin and he slowly sauntered towards me. His voice was slightly higher than the voice of what I was presuming was his brother - unless they were actual clones. That was a disturbing thought. “I think Dunstan‘s got himself a new toy…” the other brother/clone smirked, also walking towards me when I looked back at him. “I‘m not anybody’s ‘toy‘,” I said, my eyes quickly darting between the two. I wasn’t backing down to a couple of flaxen doppelgangers, not even when they started to slowly circle me - reminding me of the way hyenas circle around their prey with their sick grins and wild, amused eyes: taking cruel enjoyment in watching their victims squirm. I wasn’t prey. And I certainly wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of watching me squirm. “Then fuck-buddy?” “Booty call?” “Sperm bucket?” Okay, I’ll admit…That last one made me squirm just a little…But mostly it just forced the bile up to my throat along with a fit of boiling fury. I’m not sure which burnt more. “I‘m fourteen you sick fucks!” I spat out, directing poisonous dagger-eyes at the two boys. They stopped their circling, clearly shocked, and simultaneously looked at each other - then identical grins slowly spread across their identical faces. “Jesus Christ…” the towel-clad twin breathed quietly. “Jailbait alert…” the other twin finished, then they both directed their grins at me. “So…Jailbait…” the clothed twin started again, draping his long, lanky arm around my shoulders. “Don‘t fucking touch me…” I just about growled through my clenched teeth. It took just about every ounce of restraint I had to hold myself back from slugging him in the jaw. I was actually shaking with the effort. “Aww…Why not?” he cooed with a smirk, putting his hand to my cheek and pinching lightly. Or, at least tried to…Because as soon as I felt his fingers make even the slightest connection to my cheek, I let go of all my restraints and spun, my hand gripping his neck as I slammed him against the wall. I glared, the edges of my vision blurred by the red haze I knew all too well. My gums ached as my sharp, slender fangs shot down into view. “I said don‘t fucking touch me!” I snarled from a place low in my throat. The boy in my grasp stared at me, his eyes wide in surprise. The silence dragged out for a few moments, then his expression returned to his grinning Cheshire-cat mask that he wore earlier. “Ooh, kitty got claws…” he grinned, speaking as if my hand wasn’t clasping his neck with almost enough force to snap his trachea. “Mraow!” his twin contributed, his head appearing at my shoulder and his expression mirroring that of his counterpart. I was just about to thrust my elbow backwards into the bare stomach behind me, but a sudden, sharp whistle stopped me. “Derrick, Daven! Away!” a familiar voice commanded from down the hall. My head snapped in its direction and the hand holding onto the blonde (Derrick? Or Daven?)’s neck relaxed just slightly, because the girl from last night - Persephone - was stood a few feet away, wearing the same cartoon Dracula pyjamas and looking at the two boys with a stern expression on her face. I released my hold and the twins both backed away from me, mirroring smirks still plastered on their faces. “And for God sake, Daven. Put some clothes on!” Persephone spat out another command, her lips twisting into a sickened grimace. The half naked twin’s grin widened, and he retreated into the bedroom the other twin - Derrick, I assumed - had appeared from, shutting the door behind him. Persephone watched him go, then redirected her gaze to me, letting out a slow sigh as she walked towards me. “I‘m sorry about them…” she said, giving me one of her trademark warm smiles. “Derrick and Daven have kind of elected themselves as the resident clowns…” I nodded, chewing the inside of my cheek. All I really wanted was to get into that bathroom and get this mess off my face…Maybe have a shower, if I was allowed. As if reading my mind, Persephone’s smile slowly curved up higher at one side. “Jesus, you look like shit. If you don‘t mind me saying…” I didn’t. It was true. “The shower‘s just in there. There are clean towels hung up and you can borrow some of my clothes,” she said, her crooked smile softening. “Thanks…” I smiled, and it didn’t even feel forced. “No problem. But, uh…Word of warning. Daven‘s just been in there, so…be careful,” Persephone said lightly, smiling. I gave a quick nod and hurried into the bathroom, not really wanting to dwell on what she meant by that. Unsurprisingly, the bathroom matched the intricate elegance of all the other rooms I’d seen so far. This guy sure did like decadence, whoever he was. I shut the door and twisted the lock before stripping down and stepping into the large frosted-glass shower cubicle. I turned the water on - hot - and let out a slow, deep sigh when the liquid hit my skin: gradually taking away some of the aches from my shoulders from the uncomfortable sleep and the stress from last night’s events. After just standing there for God knows how long and allowing the stress and aches to be washed away, I spent a few minutes actually cleaning myself, then switched off the flow of water and stepped out feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I found the two towels, which were conveniently hung up on a silver rack just beside the shower, and wrapped the largest - a black one - around my body, and wrapped my hair up in a kind of turban with the smaller one, which was in the same crimson as the whole of my temporary bedroom - and that lead me to wonder: did the rest of the house follow this colour scheme? I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough, and left the bathroom, checking that the coast was clear of any lingering twins first. When I returned to ‘my’ room I noticed that Persephone was true to her word: clothes lay spread out on the bed and as I picked them up, I found out they were decent clothes - an oversized black band shirt and plain grey jeans, along with all of the appropriate underwear - they were clothes I’d actually pick out myself, if given the choice. So I dried myself, dressed myself, then walked back out into the hallway, my damp hair hanging down my back. I’d prefer to put a dryer and some straighteners to it, but I thought that would be pushing things a little bit seeing as Persephone didn’t have to give me these clothes. And, anyway, wet hair was better than palm tree hair. I made my way down the hallway and down the stairs just as the front double-doors opened. I just caught a glimpse of a human-shaped silhouette against the sun before a bright pink powder-puff missile came hurtling towards me. “Oh my God hi, are you new? Where did Dunstan find you? What do you do? How old are you? What‘s your name?” The missile squealed once it reached me, wrapping its thin, pale arms around me. “Uh…” I answered dumbly, repeatedly blinking to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming on pillow mountain. Once I’d gotten over the initial shock of being ambushed, I took a moment to look at my screeching attacker. The bright pink I’d seen was the bright pink of her hair - teased to stand about four inches higher than her actual head - and when she pulled back from the attack-hug and smiled widely up at me, I saw that she was shorter than me: a lot shorter, and that, paired with her wide, blue doe-like eyes and thick lashes made her look like the same kind of childlike chibi-human that Persephone wore on her pyjama top. What threw me was that, along with all of these little girl doll-like features, there was the heavy dark eyeshadow on her lids reaching up to her thinly-plucked eyebrows, deep red lipstick on her full, smiling lips, the corset she wore matched with an obscenely short skirt and high hooker-heels. It was quite unnerving… “Sorry, are you not a hugger? That‘s okay, a lot of people in this house aren‘t huggers…Some are kissers, though! Really good kissers!” she rambled on with a hyperactive giggle. She kind of reminded me of a Chihuahua…The kind of yapping, irritating little thing you could kick over a fence. “Oh! Sorry! My name‘s Dashurie,” Chihuahua girl squeaked, holding her hand out towards me. I looked down at her hand, then back up to her overly-cheerful face, and just stayed in the position for a few moments, until Dashurie finally lowered her hand. “Oh…Okay…” she muttered softly, her smile losing some of its brightness. “I hope I see you around soon…” she finished sadly, then hurried past me and up the stairs. I watched her, feeling a little tinge of guilt in my chest. Sure, she was kind of annoying, but…I’d obviously hurt her. With a sigh, I looked down at my bare feet - a small frown playing at my lips - then turned and walked to the door I remembered to be the door to the kitchen. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some kind of lizard-man or fire-eater waiting for me at the other side of that door to add to the freak show I’ve met in this house so far… |