Leading us to the spare rooms a floor above, the woman told us her name — Jean, named after her great-grandmother. The floor neither squeaked nor creaked from our footfalls and was almost glossy.

“This will be where you’ll be staying.” She pointed out a door for me and another for Emma next to my room. “I’ll let you know when supper is ready, my son should be home soon from his job, I’ll let him show you around some more.” She softly rubbed against her leg as if to try to appease the pain inside. “This old woman isn’t so spry anymore, unfortunately.”

She flashed another smile before going down the stairs. The rooms seemed nice, more beautiful then what I had imagined a tavern room to be. It was better than some of the motel rooms that I’d had to stay in. A knocking at the door turned my attention back to where I had entered. Emma opened the door without even waiting for me to respond Rosary reluctantly following behind her. So, do you think that you can bring us back? Emma asked.

“Well, I could try.” I looked around my surroundings; I needed something sharp preferably something that could draw blood. The room though well furnished with furniture seemed to be barren of much else. Maybe I should go back downstairs and ask for a knife? Wouldn’t that sound like an awkward request though? What would I tell her? Yeah sorry, I need to borrow a knife from you because I think that If I cut myself, then I can go home. I was still sore from earlier even. I looked down at the previous cut. Red, swollen, a little bit of blood leaked here and there.

How much blood do I even need? Would a little bit work? I didn’t want to piss off the innkeeper by getting blood all over her nice furniture.

“Do you have anything for me to draw on?” I asked Emma. “Sorry,” It seemed like we were going to be getting nowhere fast, god damn that’s a fucking pun now. Give me a sec; I’m going to ask Jean if she has anything to draw on,” maybe I’ll also try to find something pointy or sharp too while I’m at it. Emma shrugged, “Fine but you can meet me in my room then. It’d feel awkward just hanging out in your room.” She walked out of the room, her dusty skirt swishing to and fro. But Rosary decided to stay and instead perched on my shoulder. She hadn’t said much since our trip back to Nowhere, in-fact she seemed incredibly troubled, but could I blame her?

Stepping out of the room, the faint scent of something tasty seemed to be filling the air outside. It smelled so good; I hadn’t had something home-made in a while. Usually, it was a choice between quick, easy to make meals where the only skill needed to make was the ability to press a few buttons and wait for the microwave to beep and the occasional trip outside of the school grounds to go to a restaurant — a feat that usually was done to appease the disaster known as Emma. The thought of real food made me nearly start drooling.

Following the scent, I passed by the main room. A small hall near the stairs led to the back where a large kitchen took up about half as much as the main room. There Jean seemed to be toiling away at a large pot. An open flame fueled by wood let off a warmth into the room, the earthy smell of the timber intermingled with the hearty scent of what I could now see was a stew. Her back was turned away from me currently.

Cutlery hung casually near me; I just needed a knife or something, preferably small. The blade that caught my eye was a small paring knife. It; along with the group of knives paired with it seemed to be a simple set, wood handle that appeared to be home-made, it didn’t seem especially sharp it looked like it had seen a lot of wear. Jean started to turn. Shit no time to think.

I palmed the knife, casually slipping it into my pocket as Jean turned. She grabbed for what looked like some seasoning, but stopped, and turned to me. “I’m sorry dear, food isn’t ready yet.”

I felt a little guilty at the feeling of the knife in my left pocket. Maybe I should have just asked her for it. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need something to write on.” The sound of the bubbling stew roused the woman to action, she turned back over to her seasonings, grabbing one.

“What do you need that for?” She asked as she worked on the stew. This would be so much easier if I were to tell her. “I’m still feeling a bit on edge; writing seems to help.” I lied, well sort of. I did feel better-doing something after a panic attack, but I feel fine right now.

She nodded absently; she seemed more concerned over the pot right now. “At the bar, I have some parchment that I use; you can use some of that,”

“Ok thank you.”

I nervously started going out of the room, “Daniel was it?” I froze, thinking that maybe she had figured out something. “Yes?”

“Please be sparing with it. Lately, it’s been getting harder to come by, the merchant that I usually get it from has been late coming. I don’t have much left.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Will do,” I said before finally leaving.

I felt winded like I had run up multiple flights of stairs. I wasn’t exactly well suited for lying. I did it anyway. Going back to the main area, I quickly spotted what I was looking for. Grabbing a piece of the paper, I promptly left. Passing to the stairwell, I made my way up. A bell chittered, probably the bell that signaled that a customer had come from the inner city. I was curious, but instead of lingering to see who or what had entered I continued up the stairs. Firstly I wanted to know how reliable my abilities were.

Emma was waiting in her room patiently, moved she seemed to be staring absently at her phone, a worried expression on her face. Its light was reflecting from her eyes dimly. Did she think it would have service out here?

A moment later she seemed to notice that I was at the doorway and she seemed to shake herself off. “Well?” She asked a tinge of impatience in her voice. I pulled out the little knife and set down the paper on the wood floor. “I’m ready I guess.” Rosary flapped down near the parchment. I tried at first to scratch open the old wound. Dripping the blood onto the paper, I attempted to will it back home.

Absolutely nothing; well here goes nothing. A sharp pain sliced through my hand. The little knife cut through my flesh easily. Fuck does that burn. The drops of blood started forming all over I willed again, picturing my room as best as I could do. Colors began to develop from the droplets, colors that shouldn’t have been possible from my droplets of blood. The parchment started to look like someone had puked a rainbow on it. Pain suddenly blasted through my head, at least that’s how best I could describe it. A ringing filled my ears; the pain far worse in my head then my hand had been.

The colors drained from the picture as if losing all vitality. The rainbow mess was gone, it now looked like a muddy grey. God, I can’t think; it pounded in my head.

“Did you do it, Daniel?” Emma asked. I tried answering, but my body didn’t respond. For a brief moment, it felt like I couldn’t control my body. “Are you ok?” Rosary asked, her little voice coming from below.

I fell over, my head banging against the knob of the door that I had been leaning against. It probably should have hurt, but hey that pain was nothing compared to what was in my head.

“Hey!” Emma jumped over and seemed to try to catch me, a lot of good that does.