Heinrich Hexenmeister
Lonely and Frustrated
Tue Jun 26, 2018 13:22

Heinrich never really considered himself a social person. When he had arrived at Sonora, he counted it a blessing that he had his room to himself. When he wasn’t having a moment of temporary insanity, he still was glad for that, and would have been even if he didn’t suffer from a language barrier.

But every now and then, Heinrich felt lonely and the room that was his and his alone mocked him. To be fair, the mockery usually wasn’t verbal as it was being today.

“You have no friends,” the one wall told him, in German, apparently so he’d be sure to understand. Or maybe just because it was his sickness making this happen, and his sickness had already demonstrated a strong preference for his native tongue if the library incident was any indication.

“You should just go home. Nobody wants you here,” the doorframe suggested. Heinrich scowled at it because it wasn’t like he wanted to be here himself. If he’d had his way, he’d still be in Germany.

The floor added, “You speak terrible English. Why should anyone here bother with you?”

“Pft,” dismissed the ceiling, “Forget his English. His parents are murderers. Who wants to be friends with that sort?”

More angry than lonely now, Heinrich jumped to his feet and shook a fist at the ceiling. “They are not! Take that back!”

“Such violence. But it’s hardly his fault, his parents being what they are,” the ceiling scoffed in false pity.

Heinrich pointed his wand upwards, and cast one of the German spells his dad had taught him ‘to protect himself if anything happens in the woods.’ An ugly scorch mark darkened the white plaster and Heinrich realized he was attacking a ceiling. This was a bad idea on several counts. Firstly because it was misdirected rage at an illness generated voice that was only speaking his own insecurities. Secondly, he was providing more circumstantial evidence to suggest his upbringing was perhaps a bit suspicious.

But mostly because he was a smart kid who realized there was a floor on the other side of that ceiling and he didn’t want some older kid’s bed crashing down on top of his own.

Already there was a risk someone might smell the burning and come to investigate . . .

At least the mocking had stopped.

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