I hated the house we were to move in the very first day I saw it.. I felt as if I was being watched, as if something was following us around every room when we checked it out the first time. I remember sitting in the room that was going to be mine, staring at the window and eventually telling my parents that I hated it and I didn’t want to come here. They told me to pretty much get over here, and I hid in ‘my’ closet and cried. I clutched my legs and begged to let us go home.. but it wouldn’t happen. I looked around the closet and I got a chill, the hairs on my neck stood up and I just tensed. I quickly got out of it and gazed back, just staring at the empty area before I quickly left the room to join my parents.
I was walking down the steps and.. the weirdest thing, footprints in the carpet. Much like a child of at least five or six, and nothing of that was even around. I remember getting down and rubbing my hand against the carpet in an attempt to make it go away, but it wouldn’t. I was happy when we left the house, but unfortunately we would be coming back.
When we were finally settled I had automatically decided that I would never go in my mother’s room. It scared me, and made my heart go into my throat. Her room was of course connected to the only bathroom upstairs, so I constantly locked the door that led into her bedroom. I really don’t remember much of being young in the house.. Though I do remember my mother had tucked me in and I was laying in bed staring up at the ceiling. Once more they had faced my bed towards the window, and the right side of my bed faced the door. So if I looked to the left I could see my sister’s room, infront of me was my window then to the right top corner was my closet. I never left the closet door open, it scared me.
Either way my television was on my dresser to the left of my window, and I was contently watching television. Then suddenly the wind was knocked out of me, as if someone had punched me in the back. Though.. it wasn’t possible right? I laid there confused until it happened again, this time the bed seemed to ‘pop’ under me with the quick blows. I was quiet, and I stared at the television, even closed my eyes. That only made it worse, the slow rasp of a breath and the banging stopped. No one heard it but me, which made it worse. I was obsessed with books, and I had them stacked up near my closet. Well, the rasp went away then suddenly a sharp bang. I opened my eyes and leaned up to turn my light on. The books had been scattered around my room as if someone walked in and kicked them. The next day I got scolded for staying up late and ‘banging’.. I just couldn’t explain it.
Most nights were the same over and over, the constant banging, rasping, and the fact I never opened my blinds. I had ran upstairs because my parents wanted me to change into my pajamas. I was standing at my dresser and something made me freeze in my tracks. A gentle tapping against my window, three times. I just stared at my dresser, before gazing to the window figuring something hit against it. The thing was I don’t have a tree next to my window and I was on the second floor.. Then it happened again, louder and it made my breath catch. I looked away, gazing to the television screen. There had been something standing beside me and quickly it darted though the screen and out my bedroom door towards my mother’s room. I couldn’t breath, I just stared after it before finally turning. Then it happened again, three quick knocks on my window. I swallowed and turned quickly changing and running downstairs. I never looked in my television screen when its turned off, even now I don’t.
Then my parents had redone the bathroom, so now instead of having a curtain to the shower they put in glass doors. I hated it, the curtain I could position so I could watch out the door and watched for stuff. Because whenever I’d look away there would always be something running from my room to my mothers, or the other way around. But now these glass doors.. made it worse. I was in middle school by then, haven taken showers and the like by myself and having to wake my mom up right before we left. I had an extreme flair of nightmares mostly of ones that left me breathless or crying. Ones that I can barely remember, but it always had to do with the bathroom or the outside in the rain. I would always either die or get hurt by the same thing. A person who looked.. waterlogged, black hollow eyes, a woman. She mocked me with her smirks, hair long and dingy, like she had been rolling through wet mud. I tried time after time to tell my mother, my best friends about this.. but no one seemed to believe me or would mock me. She visited me every night, and I just couldn’t handle it. When I got older I’d stay up until I saw daylight, then go to sleep. Usually that meant I stayed up until 5-6 am, would sleep for about a hour, then go to school. I took my time in just sleeping in classes, teachers eventually gave up on trying to wake me up.
There had been one morning when I was on edge. The night before I had been laying in bed and once I turn off my light or tv I never open my eyes again until morning. I was laying on my stomach and there was the rasp again, slow and steady. It headed through the hallway and headed into my room, and I could feel the stare, right at the side of my face. It knew I was awake, just slowly walking around from side to side of my bed. This happened a lot mind you, I’d eventually get tired of it and simply say for it to leave me alone, to go away I was too tired to deal with it. I couldn’t leave limbs outside of the blankets, as the gentle trail of fingers dragged up whatever skin was bared to be touched. Though anyway, I had just gotten out of the shower.
I had gazed in the large mirror above the sink as I tried to stand far back to the shower just incase something would walk past the bathroom once more. I thought I had saw someone standing there and usually I’d call out simply ‘Mom?’ and find out if she was really there or not. But.. there was no response. So I urged myself to hurry, to finish what I was doing.
Throwing the towel on my head I began to quickly dry my hair, eyes shut as I worked. Then… I opened my eyes, and there it was again. My head was down so I was staring at the ground, but there was someone standing next to me. Their legs were muddy, darkened and grey legs bare and in a dress of sorts. My breathing caught and I just stared then I jumped back. I yelped, yanked the towel off my head and looked forward.. but there was no one there. I had cried that morning, and I stopped drying my hair where I didn’t watch around me so I wasn’t caught off gaurd again.
Then the nights where I’d have to run downstairs.. I’d be sitting in my room and whenever I’d hear my mom downstairs I’d run down to join her. Though.. this night was different. For some reason my sister’s door kept slowly opening then closing. It drove me nuts, so I got up and eventually put books infront of it so it would stop moving then I went back to my room. I was sitting in the room and all of a sudden the sharp bangs that ripped through my ears again. I muted my television and there it was again. My room was right above the kitchen so I always figure its my mother downstairs getting snacks out of the cubboard. But..no. I got up and quickly ran to my parents room and questioned them crying if they heard anything. I begged them that someone was in the house, someone was downstairs. But my father yelled at me that there was nothing. the house was quiet. But I heard it. I had stepped out of the bedroom after being yelled at and went downstairs with my heart in my throat. I walked around the kitchen, no one was there. I would of saw my sister if she came out of her room, but she wasn’t there nor was my mother. I walked to the cubboards and opened them.. shut them, then turned around and headed back towards the steps. I stared into the living room before turning and heading up the stairs. Once I was about to hit the first landing the same waterlogged hands dove out from the railing. I remember slamming myself against the wall to get away from them, eyes wide and I couldn’t breath. But.. then it was gone, but I felt watched. I had ran upstairs and shut the door behind me. I never went down at night again, and I never looked back when I walked up the stairs.. And I thought it couldn’t get worse.. and I got older.