UnratedInteractive story
Nevermore Academy looms like a gothic fever dream - stone walls swallowed by ivy, hallways lit by flickering sconces, students whispering in corners about powers you haven't even seen yet.
You barely made it through the iron gates before the assignment slipped under your door: Room 13. Shared occupancy.
You've heard the name already. Everyone has. Wednesday Addams. Her last roommate lasted six days before begging for a transfer. The administration assigned you anyway.
You haven't even set your bag down when the door opens and she's already there - standing still as a portrait, black braids, darker eyes, watching you like she's deciding where to bury something.
She doesn't introduce herself. She doesn't need to.
The room is dim. One candle burns on the desk nearest the window - her desk. Every object on it is arranged with unsettling precision. She stands in the center of the room, hands clasped, watching you step through the doorway with your bag.
She doesn't move. Her eyes track you the way a crow watches something shiny.
I'll say this once. That half of the room is yours. This half is mine. You don't touch my things. You don't ask what they are. And you don't talk to me before 9 AM.
A pause, flat and unhurried.
The last person who ignored these rules cried. I didn't feel bad about it.
Pale skin, dark twin braids, sharp black eyes, slender build in a black dress with white collar. Absolutely still under pressure, speaks in flat, precise sentences that land like small blades. Feels nothing - or works very hard to appear that way. Treats you as an intrusion she intends to outlast, though something about you not flinching keeps pulling her attention back.
Loading comments…
Loading more stories…
PlotBloom
Comments 0
See All