Walking inside the house feel...weird. The draft of the house carries from the wooden flooring, an odd smell lingering throughout. The inside shows the real age of the mansion and mom takes notes on what needs to be fixed. "It looked so much nicer in the pictures," she says quietly, muttering incoherent words as she writes. Now I can see how she got it so cheap. I flash her an eye-roll and my teeth dig into my mouth. Even a cardboard box would've been better than this shit hole.

I nod and my fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. The smell is a mix of many, but the one thing that I can actually point out is the rotten smell of a dead animal. While it's a smell, it leaves a metallic taste in the air and I don't want to admit it...but it tastes like blood.

The floral green wallpaper has started to peel, showing white painted walls with red stains splattered all over. The front room is open, but it gives more space for the smell to completely overcome the room. My brother races in, shoving me against the back wall. I swear, if I press my ear up, I can hear hushed voices speaking quickly in a different language, maybe Latin? It's difficult to tell as I have never been the one to speak another language. I was practically forced to take the Latin course as a freshman, but like I even pain any attention.

I regain my balance quickly and look towards my mom, who's too occupied with checking for more damage in the front room. If my room is anything like the inside of here, I'm running away, I swear. I don't have time to clean it and make it pretty when I have to deal with a new school and making friends. This whole move is total bull and I feel as if my mom just moved here to escape her problems, not solve them. It's what she has always done. My dad even told about how she nearly gave me up for adoption. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here. But, looking at my life now, I'm sad that she kept me. She may not be the worse mom in the world, but she also isn't the best.

"Go check on Marshall," she says sternly, turning to face the left wall, her hand shaking as it moves to press the broken down door. It bursts to the floor, dust flying into the air. Instead of sticking with her to check the rest of the place, I nod and look around, trying to spot any sign of my brother.

"Marshall?! Where are you?" I call, my voice echoing against the walls of the home. The ceiling hangs high above us, a fan slowly moving while also creating a glitched sound. Note; remind mom to get that fixed right away. A giggling sound sends me looking towards the hall in the front, though I could have sworn that wasn't there before. The hallway seems to drag on, the end engulfed in empty darkness. My mind debates with my body, not wanting to walk down it.

The giggling continues and I turn to ask my mom what's going on, only to find the walls closing in. The doors have been covered by two more walls and in two seconds, I'm having to use my legs and arms to keep it from closing in on me. 

As my arms grow tired, my breath becomes shallow and I let go, the walls closing in quicker. Turning back around, I know that my only solution is to run down the hallway. My mind screams no, but my body pushes forward and my feet pick up pace, eager to make it without being squashed.

Hushed voices whisper into my ear, most telling me to get out or kill myself, and the walls suddenly stop. The voices raise in volume and I freeze, or more like become paralyzed. It reminds me of what it was like when I got sleep paralysis one night. My friends had dared me to try it, and at first I had difficult sleeping still, but it had worked! They had described how I would have to lie on my bed, stiff as a board and close my eyes. They told me to wait for slumber, but it would feel like it would never come. At first I didn't believe it, still feeling movement in my body, and I tried to move my hand to text them, but it wouldn't move. The darkness became a void of silence as the ceiling of my room pushed up. I screamed, or tried to at least, but my voice was silenced and my lips felt sewn together. It reminded me of the time I had to get stitches and how I felt the needle slide in with ease. Every time I went to scream, I would feel a stinging sensation. Luckily, the horrific memory ended when my dad raced in and poured water on me. I was drenched and freezing cold, but at least I was out of the horrific memory. After that, I vowed to never try it again, despite how my friends pushed me.

That's what it feels like. My body feels as stiff and I feel a tingling sensation on my back. Well, it feels more like small, hairy legs racing up and down along my spine. If I didn't know better, I would say that it's spiders. 

Sweat falls from my hairline and soaks into the small cracks of the wooden floor.

I'm snapped from my trance by someone pulling my arm down roughly. I look off to the side and down to see my little brother wearing a bright smile. His blonde hair mixes with dirt and his small teddy bear holds mud in small patches of its fur.

"God you scared the hell out of me!" I yell, a hint of laughter etched into my tone. His smile fades to a frown and he pulls me forward. I close my eyes tightly, ready to slam into a wall, but there's nothing there. In fact, the once tight space is now open, the doors placed back. The voices have stopped altogether and I release from my brothers grip to put my ear up against the wall again.

Expecting to hear whispers, I only get silence. "What just happened?" I wonder aloud, causing my mom to walk in with a confused expression. The once destroyed walls with the rotten wallpaper have now been replaced with a bright blue paint, the mansion gleaming in color just like the outside.

"What was that darling?" she asks in a hushed tone, her hand covering the end of her small android phone. I look at her, my hands shaking in agitation, a small habit of mine. I would say that it could've been my imagination, but I'm not the one to do that kind of thing, even when I was a child. My mom has always said I was the most serious kid she had met.

My head falls to the side as I stare at her with widened eyes. "You didn't just see the small room?" I ask. She only answers with silence, though her face just sticks with that confused look before she shakes her head and goes back to her conversation. "Who is that mom?" she only ignores me and wanders back into the kitchen, her heels clicking against the metal tile of the room.

"Callie!!!" the whine catches my attention and I turn back to see Marshall, his blue eyes hidden by tears and his small, rosy lips held into a pout. "You're mean!" he asks sadly.

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't listen to the voices AND you told mommy. Now Mikey is going to punish you!" he warns. I take a step forward, my hands shaking furiously by now, and my mouth goes to speak. I'm cut off by his giggles as he turns and races into the next room, the door creaking shut slowly, as if someone is pulling it closed. Someone please tell I'm going crazy! Oddly, it will be the only way to keep me sane.