He stayed around the first floor of the steeple, staring at the cleaning supplies that had been left behind.
There was an empty feeling in his chest, one he hated quite a bit.
But his hatred of that didn't match the burning anger he felt towards the adults.
He hadn't done anything wrong! Why was he getting left all alone!? And if he was being blamed, why were his friends still getting punished!?
…After a while longer of seething, he finally settled into the idea that it wasn't going to help anything, as well as, he needed to do something. So, reluctant as it was, he grabbed the supplies and went up to clean.
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By the time he was finished, several hours later (the work required being a lot more than he initially thought, as well as the breaks he had to take in-between), the room was starting to look much better.
The fridge was, sadly, completely cleared out, while he'd need to replace the old, ratty rug with a new one, but he felt proud nonetheless.
Once he made sure nothing had been missed, he went to the large window the room had, to stare out at everything below.
It was quite the impressive view, especially as the sun was beginning to rise. He hesitated to call it beautiful, though.
Could something you hated really be beautiful…?
Sighing to himself, he tore away from the view, then climbed into the single chair in the room.
Home sweet home, he supposed…
…even if it cost him his only company…
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The next several weeks went by with…nothing much happening at all.
No one came to visit or torment him, so he was completely alone…or, at least, he was fairly sure he was alone.
That giggling that came from somewhere down in the basement could only be his imagination at this point, as nothing had ever come to interact with him, and everything stayed exactly as he'd left it.
_ _ _ _ flipped through the available channels on the tv, trying to watch several things every now and again, only to decide there wasn't anything interesting on every time.
Several days' time proved enough for him to explore every nook and cranny of the Steeple, though the most he found was a bright, ruby red, star-shaped, gem-looking…thing…
…As well as a chest with voices coming out of it, but he didn't dare touch that.
He preferred to go un-cursed by whatever this place possessed.
Regardless, eventually, the boredom got to him, forcing him out, however short his little trips were.
He typically found himself heading back to town, though he refused to actually go in.
He simply skirted around the very edge, staying away from where the adults usually gathered. If they still remembered the incident, he didn't want to be spotted.
…Unfortunately, that never seemed to stay as an 'if' for very long.
Though they were usually hard to hear, he still found himself catching snippets of "who tricked the kids" and "he still hasn't come down from the steeple".
"Maybe he died."
"That little monster."
…Monster?
He was a monster to them? Over one little misunderstanding?
Surely, they didn't think the Creepy Steeple was that dangerous or that he was truly meaning to harm the kids, did they?
…Or, perhaps, they had thought he was a monster from the very beginning. Just one that didn't cause trouble.
Either way, he hated the word.
The way they used it, the way it came out of their mouths…
…It was an insult, and he had done nothing to deserve being insulted like that.