Chapter Eleven

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I had finally made it to Donna's house, feeling slightly jittery all the way over. As sweet as Donna seemed, she had that same off feeling that everyone and everything around here seemed to have. I stood in front of her door, studying the dark brown patterns in the glossy wood. Surely this wouldn't be a long visit, so I wouldn't have much to worry about, would I?

I knocked on the door three times, hearing the noise echo through the building. After a few seconds, the door creaked open to reveal the dark wooden inside of the house. The days seemed to grow darker and darker, so despite it not being late into the afternoon, the cloud covered sun would soon be setting. Shadows seemed to be cast over this particular part of town, and the old fashioned rooms were only lit by candles and gas lamps. 

"Hello?" I called out, my hands clinging onto the strap of my cross-body bag. I took a few steps past the door, taking in my surroundings. A staircase with deep red carpeting was to my right, and in the center of the room there was a rocking chair and a table covered in sewing supplies. The inside of the house had a vintage smell to it, like the comforting pages of an old library book. 

"Donna?" I called for her again, and once more received no response. I took a few steps further into the house, running my fingers across the smooth wooden walls. Although the place gave me  a slight case of the chills, it was beautiful and oddly nostalgic. I walked over to the base of the stairs, searching for the mysterious woman, when I noticed a portrait was framed to the right of it. Inside the dark lumber was an oil painting of a woman in black, her lips pulled taut into a smile. She had dark eyes, pale skin, and her hair was pulled into a bun. Beside her was a doll I wished I didn't recognize. Was this Donna? I couldn't quite tell. 

A hand gently touched my shoulder, nearly giving me a heart attack as it came into contact with the fabric of my shirt. I quickly spun around, coming face to face with the veiled woman. 

"Hello," She greeted. Her voice was hoarse but welcoming, and my fears quickly ceased. I smiled at her, hoping I didn't seem suspicious. 

"Donna, I was just looking for you." I said, letting out a half laugh half sigh of relief. I waited for a response but there came none, so I continued. "I've been here for a few months, as you know, and now that I'm sort of used to things I thought it was time that I actually got to know everyone. I've also heard that you make a good cup of tea, so I thought I'd stop by." 

Even though I couldn't see her face, I got the feeling that she was smiling. She nodded, and made a motion for me to follow her. Her dress twirled behind her as she walked, leading me down a short hallway into an old kitchen. She pulled a chair out from underneath a small table adorned a white lace table cloth, and immediately walked over to her stove, filling a kettle with water. I sat in the chair, watching her in silence as she turned on the stovetop and began heating the water. 

"Are you," She paused. "Adjusting well?" Her voice was awfully quiet, and she seemed to be carefully choosing her words. 

"I supposed you could say that." I tell her, feeling the need to be mindful of my words as well. "Things are different from how I remember them- when I was a kid, that is. I've been adapting though, so things aren't too bad. At least not until winter." I laugh awkwardly. She nods, opening a cupboard and pulling out a glass jar with a few tea bags in the bottom of it. She pulls out two, placing them each into a mug. 

"And your mutation? I see you still have bandages on your arms." She points out, still facing the counter. I fidget in my chair for a moment, trying to feel a little more comfortable. I don't really notice as I run my finger over the lines in the bandages, a little I habit I'd developed over the past few weeks.

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