Haunting-Adeline

downright boring.
The inside is even worse. I walk into a large, wide hallway with picture
frames lining either side of the wall of who I assume is Mark’s family. My
heels click against the ivory le, and I can’t help but think it’s going to turn
brown a er all the shoes that’ll be treading across it.
We’re ushered by a butler down the hallway, past an all-white kitchen
and into a ballroom.
An actual fucking ballroom.
The kind you see in movies set back in the 1800s, when finding your
future husband or wife depended on going to a ball.
Three massive chandeliers dangle from the gold ceiling, arches of
intricately carved wood between each fixture. The floor is a sparkling ivory,
the li le flecks glin ng off of the chandeliers nearly blinding me. It’s like
looking into the damn sun.
“Fix your face,” Zade murmurs from beside me. It’s not un l he speaks
that I realize my face was screwed up into a look of disgust.
Not because the place is ugly, but because it’s so damn… preten ous
and flashy. I don’t need to see the rest of the house to know that the place
screams look at me, I have a gazillion dollars and have no inten on of
sharing the wealth with the millions of starving families around the world.
But what do I know? I’ve always wondered if the people who have the
money to feed the en re world popula on are allowed to. All governments
are corrupted. Maybe if you try to save the world and ac vely steal money
from the rich’s pockets, you’ll wake up dead one day.
I smooth out my face, donning a blank mask as I look around at the
hundreds of people occupying the ballroom. Everyone is dressed to the
nines, the guests ranging from young adults to people who look like they’re
on their deathbed.
Zade holds out his elbow to me, and every signal in my brain tells me to
snub the request. But that’s pride speaking, and I’m not in a good posi on
to let pride get the best of me. I loathe to admit it, but I’m safer a ached
to Zade.
S ffly, I grab onto his elbow and lean into his side. It feels like hands
smoothing into wet clay. No ma er the divots in our bodies, we mold
together perfectly.
Ugh.