Rochelle

The hallways were white, but that's not how it used to be. This
place was a convent, yes he had always had a thing for convents, but that was
in the good old days.
The whole building still echoed with centuries of murder and
suffering, but he had gone. Sure, he left his mark on the place,
but it was not the same: he was not the same.
I ventured into the old bedroom and the tension was unbearable. Why
was i not welcome here, after all this time i was still unwanted.
It was not my fault he changed, surely i was not to blame, there was
nothing i could do. There was nothing anyone could do.
The whole house longed for him, you could smell it in the walls, you
could feel it in the stone. The whole foundation shook with his
absence.
When a place longs for its master, the only thing you can do is give
it what it wants, this time it was verging on impossile. It was clear
some one was going to get killed.