‘ do you think there’s something wrong with me ? like, really wrong ? ’.
‘ you’re saying it was an accident, so you accidentally put your hand through a mirror ? ’.
‘ i am a dream and so are you and so are we.
‘ the world out there has teeth and it is hungry and it is stupid and it eats and eats mindlessly.
‘ if you were me, you wouldn’t be such a fucking asshole.
* warning : may contain spoilers for episodes one through ten. THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE SENTENCE STARTERS “ if you find that you’re talking to yourself often, i suggest finding someone to actually talk to. ” her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she walked down the steps. “ ten seconds in the front door and you’re already pissed. laila left the room behind, not for long though, as she stepped out of the room she had transformed into a makeshift office and bedroom and into the stairwell, looking down at the foyer. it wouldn’t be until a voice - so familiar and the same tone as it was the last she had heard of it - called out. She never heard the front door open, perhaps due to being buried in papers. like the house was playing a trick.īut it’s just a weird and unsettling house is all. but it seemed every time she was finished, there was just something she missed. which just means that laila, herself, must make her own. she never would have expected her parents to be so careless about such a thing, hell even their own blueprint that she once watched her mother form from scratch seemed to be missing quite crucial areas of the house. she’s not sure how many times she can go through the blueprints of a place with things that aren’t there and things that are missing. “ Hello?” Cringing at the sound of her voice echoing through the empty house, she quickly stormed past the foyer, towards the kitchen. “Seriously? I swear there is supposed to be a ridiculous amount of people working on fixing this shitshow - and, now I’m talking myself. Whether it was the warm smile of her mother she feared, or secretly coveted, it was a sight she would sooner encounter in her dreams or a photo album. Part of Astrid had feared that she would see her mother step out from the shadows at the top of the grand staircase. Her composed gaze flitting over the house gave away none of the fear coiled tightly in her chest. It was nothing but brick, mortar, and some stone - yet everything down to the wallpaper felt sinister. Pulling her leather gloves up tights around her wrist, out of nervous habit, she hesitantly stepped over the threshold. It was only fitting that their broken family returned back to the place that had hammered into their lives with such a force that none of them had truly ever recovered. As if it was ready to crumble, held together like broken bones in a makeshift splint. She could feel the creaks and groans of the house reverberating as if the cold and abandoned joints of it were finally waking up.
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