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Chapter Fourteen : Affection Allergy

Author: Munny
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-19 07:14:00

I’d retreated to my own room after the music store. I couldn’t stand being around William and Alexandra anymore—their concern was thick in the air, suffocating me. They knew something was off. I could see it in the way they looked at me, like I was going to fall apart any second. I didn’t want their comfort. I didn’t want their questions.

When I shut the door behind me, it was the first time all day I felt like I could breathe. I owed William a silent thanks—booking separate motel rooms was probably the best idea he’d ever had. The instant solitude washed over me like a tide, and with it came the inevitable crash.

Everything I’d been holding back—fear, confusion, exhaustion—hit me all at once. I wanted to scream or cry or punch the wall. My chest burned with emotion I couldn’t name. But I didn’t let it spill. I held it in until the burning passed and the lump in my throat loosened. My head was pounding and my legs were unsteady, but I didn’t fall apart. Not th
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  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Fourteen : Affection Allergy

    I’d retreated to my own room after the music store. I couldn’t stand being around William and Alexandra anymore—their concern was thick in the air, suffocating me. They knew something was off. I could see it in the way they looked at me, like I was going to fall apart any second. I didn’t want their comfort. I didn’t want their questions.When I shut the door behind me, it was the first time all day I felt like I could breathe. I owed William a silent thanks—booking separate motel rooms was probably the best idea he’d ever had. The instant solitude washed over me like a tide, and with it came the inevitable crash.Everything I’d been holding back—fear, confusion, exhaustion—hit me all at once. I wanted to scream or cry or punch the wall. My chest burned with emotion I couldn’t name. But I didn’t let it spill. I held it in until the burning passed and the lump in my throat loosened. My head was pounding and my legs were unsteady, but I didn’t fall apart. Not th

  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Thirteen: Liars

    I winced as Alexandra dabbed an alcohol-soaked tissue against my cheek. It wasn’t the sting that got to me—it was the humiliation. I was a hunter. I should’ve been able to patch myself up without help.“Hold still,” Alexandra scolded, fighting to clean the wound as I squirmed beneath his touch.“I can do it myself,” I muttered, bristling with frustration.He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Then be useful. Either get on my laptop or grab that old book over there—” he nodded toward the weathered tome with its cracked leather spine—“and start flipping through. Pick whichever makes you feel more productive.”I gritted my teeth but knew I wasn’t winning this one. I snatched the book from the table in his and William’s motel room and cracked it open. It was filled with lore—spirits, sigils, theology. I had no idea where to begin, so I just started at the top.From his bed, William looked up from where he was doodling on motel stationery

  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Twelve: Night Shift

    After everything that had happened, the police had stationed a patrol around the old house. Day and night, a marked cruiser sat out front, ready to stop any curious teenagers from sneaking inside.But crouching in the bushes didn’t exactly feel like the most dignified thing to do—especially with two fully grown men beside me whispering like kids at a sleepover. I half considered charging out, guns blazing, and praying the patrol didn’t shoot first. Fortunately, a tiny part of my brain still valued survival more than dramatics.Alexandra, William, and I stayed low behind the thick brush. A cop passed close by, his flashlight sweeping dangerously near us. I held my breath as the beam inched closer—then veered away.“This should be fun,” I muttered, eyes on the dark treeline.“Guess the cops are sick of kids breaking in here,” Alexandra said quietly.“Yeah,” William muttered. “But we still have to get inside.”I was just trying

  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Eleven: Leave It for the Professionals

    The pain that stabbed my eyes was more of a surprise than anything. I shielded them with my arm the best I could while still wielding my pistol, but it was hard to aim at anything with spots swimming across my vision.As soon as the light appeared, it vanished. I blinked the clouds from my sight and was left with the visage of two short, crestfallen men. One held up a camera, the other clutching a handheld spotlight in his fists—the kind with enough power to bring down airplanes. The one with the camera sighed in obvious disappointment and turned to his partner.“Ugh, cut!” he shouted, though it was just the two of them. He sighed again. “Just a few humans.”His partner shut down the spotlight. He turned to us in not-so-subtle irritation. “What are you guys doing here?”My surprise evaporated into impatience. “Excuse me?”Alex gently tapped my arm, and I turned my glower to him. I wasn’t one to scare for sport.“What the hel

  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Ten : Old Smith

    Hell House was exactly the kind of creepy, abandoned shack I’d expect a homicidal ghost to shack up in. Even from down the road, the decrepit atmosphere radiating from the blackened, collapsed house sent an instinctual shiver up my spine. My boots squelched in the soaked mud, drenched weeds splattering my pants with water.The overcast sky was annoyingly suited for the nature of our visit. The wooded area surrounding the houses made it feel like we were encroaching on some abandoned village—the kind that had some kind of dark, sinister plague story. The cool air reeked of wet plants and mud.I took a deep breath and sighed. “Looks like Matthew Cornner wasn’t a big fan of The Village.”Alexandra glanced around at our surroundings. “Can’t say I blame the kid.”“Yeah,” agreed William, “so much for curb appeal.”Hell House sagged on the very edge of the mud road. The wood was black with dampness and rot. The entire outside emanated the sickly

  • The Hawkins Blood   Chapter Nine: Cowboy

    Rodeo Drive-In looked exactly how it sounded—like something out of a dusty postcard from the past. Neon lights flickered over the chrome-rimmed counters, and the scent of grilled meat and frying oil hung thick in the warm Nevada air. Both the inside dining room and the outdoor benches were crawling with teenagers. Overhead speakers blasted classic rock so loud it rattled the windows.It was all incredibly tacky. But the familiarity of it—the chaotic energy, the smell, the burnt-orange sky overhead—pulled something warm and nostalgic from deep inside me. The drive-in back in Yerrington had the same cheap signage, the same cracked benches. I could almost taste their double-stacked burgers just thinking about it.As soon as we parked, questions started flying.A group of teens was gathered around one of the outdoor tables. One of them, a boy with an oversized flannel and spiked hair—Table Boy, as I came to think of him—leaned in with wide, animated eyes.

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