Haunter 1: The Shadow of the Haunter

13. Befriend Thy Enemy

After Amy left, the Manor felt quiet and empty for a while. I loved living with the Blotters, but only now I realized I'd been missing some regular human company as well. Especially someone like Amy, who didn't force me to hide what was actually going on in my life. I took a longer jog that day, and spent a long while playing the guitar, not at the east parlor, but in my room. The Blotters respected my need for solitude and didn't give any sign of their presence, save the usual little noises.

The next morning, a glance at the calendar was enough for me to understand why I felt so down and lonely. The anniversary of Mom's death was around the corner, but it'd never been about just that day. After years of fighting a lost battle against the cancer that kept coming back, she'd spent her last days in the hospital, drowned in morphine and still in excruciating pain. The day she'd passed hadn't been anywhere near as bad, because it had felt like a liberation: she was finally in peace, she wouldn't suffer anymore. What brought me down, every year since she'd passed, was the memory of that hideous last week.

I spent the whole morning in the third-floor study, updating my journal with everything about Amy's visit. And Brandon Price's visit, too. Writing about it, I realized I didn't know how to accurately express what I'd felt over those few minutes with him. And that was because I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He was taller than I'd expected and his poise intimidated me. He still refused to help me and treated me like a child. And I kept reminding myself about his age, trying to not find him so attractive. Well, he wasn't old enough to be my father, but he could've been Mom's hot little brother if she'd had one. That young uncle all your friends would go crazy over whenever he drops by. Whatever. I needed to learn to stop beating around the bush. He was twelve years older than me but he was still hot as hell, even hiding under his black baggy outfits and his baseball caps. And he'd showed up to give me the only thing he had that could help me, right? That had to count on his behalf, too.

In the afternoon, after Susan and Mike left, I felt like playing the guitar again. I knew it would make me feel sad as hell, so I thought I could do something more than just cry and be miserable. I grabbed my guitar and headed to the north parlor. The door wasn't completely closed, but I knocked anyway.

"Come in," said the phone app.

I did. "Edward? Joseph?"

"Edward. You're going downstairs."

I nodded, shrugging, and explained the upcoming anniversary, my mood and my plans.

"Isn't it dangerous?"

"I don't know. That's why I wanted to ask if one of you can come with me."

"Of course. Let's go."

My reasoning wasn't that complicated: I couldn't help being down and I wanted to do something positive with my sadness. Kujo would soon need all the strength he could master, so why not give him all these feelings I couldn't help.

He got it the moment I sat before his corner with the guitar.

"Fran sad," he said.

I tried to smile. "Yeah. Thought you could use a snack."

"Don't."

"Just see if you can have some of it without harming me, okay?"

I heard one of his muffled shuffles, like he was coming closer. Mom's ballads were perfect for the occasion, so I played and sang for about an hour, letting tears flow as they wanted. Edward didn't intervene until I was done.

"How are you feeling?" he asked when I finished the last song.

"Alright, I think. Let me get back at you in a moment." I tried to stand up and didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. "I'm perfectly fine. Thank you, Kujo. I think I'll have more for you tomorrow."