Everything is fine. Dare I say, on the up and up.
Think good thoughts, like... flowers. Those are pleasant.
And... uh, cat tongues. Love that sandpaper feel.
And I hate to admit it, but Keller’s man cleavage, that’s... that’s a nice image.
Tap... tap... tap.
God, I hate Timmy.
Ohhhhh, go be a royal.
It will be fun, he said.
You will be living out a dream.
Well, guess what, TimmyTuna, this is not a dream, this is death knocking at my door. A slap in the ass by the medieval monsters lurking around for fresh blood. They can smell it from ten miles away. They know I’m weak, they know I’ll bow down before them, they know the lightest of taps will turn me into a ball of anxiety, ready to bend over for whatever they have in store for me.
I’m pathetic.
This place is too freaky.
So, just take me.
Take me.
Fucking—
“Are you okay?”
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” I scream, jack-knifing straight off my bed, levitating about five feet in the air before falling to the floor. Quick to my feet, I grab the lamp on the night table, and like a bat out of hell, I start swinging it around, blaring my war cry as I jab the midnight air in front of me. “Back, you beast. I have a lamp and I know how to use it. Fa-bam. Fa-bam.” I jab.
“Whoa, Lilly, it’s Keller.”
Keller?
I pause my jabbing and stand tall. I reach under the lamp shade and switch it on, illuminating the dark room. And sure enough, Keller is standing in my room in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. If my heart wasn’t about to beat out of my chest, I would actually appreciate his loungewear, but I’m hanging on by a thread at the moment.
“Keller,” I breathe out. “What... what the hell are you doing?”
“I heard a weird... squealing and thought I’d check on you.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. “That’s being kind, but correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not sure you’re a kind man toward me.”
“It’s not that I’m not kind, it’s just that you irritate me.”
“You know, if I wasn’t so fucking terrified right now, I’d have a witty response, but I’m afraid to say it, this Hagrid place is spooky as shit.”
“Harrogate.”
“Whatever.” I set the lamp back on the night table and sit on the edge of my bed. “My nerves are absolutely fried. What the hell is that tapping sound?”
“What tapping—oh, I was drumming my finger on my night table. Is that what you were hearing?”
My nostrils flare in aggravation. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell are you doing, tapping your nightstand at night? Sending a morse code to the ghosts to freak me the hell out?”
“There aren’t ghosts in here.”
