It haunts me. This house stalks my life, and yet it remains still. I swear there's a ghost, I swear to God above. The windows are like dark eyes that look deep into my soul, filling it with dark passion and rage. If I knock on the door, I feel that the devil himself will open the door, ready to take me away. So I stay locked in my room, safe from the destroyed building. Also, because my antics regarding said house made my parents think I was crazy, and they keep me locked up here with bars on the windows and locked doors. They may think I'm just sick of the head, but I know the truth. It was the house that did this to me. It made me psychopathic. But I have a plan. Sneak out of this room and discover the secrets the house has to offer. As darkness approaches midnight, I must prepare for my hour of evil. I dress all in black and tie my hair back. I must look stupid, but I know I can't be seen. My first challenge is the bars. I try to make them lose, but I know I'm too weak from exhaustion. My father has metal cutters; there with him and my mother as they slept soundly. My only chance to leave is to have these cutters. I have trouble unlocking my door with a bobby pin, but I manage to open the door. I tiptoe my way down the hallway. My parents' shiny white door is now in front of me. I open the door slowly to keep the noise to a minimum. I hear their light snores fighting against the silence. I trust the street lights to guide me through the dark room. I almost give up, until I see the faint shimmer of the metal. Yes, they are mine! I tiptoe out of the room, listening to see if they stir in the bed. Not a sound to be heard. Success. I go into my room and prepare the clipper......middle of paper......the house. Was last night just a dream? Maybe I was so tired that I fell asleep here. No matter what happens, my parents are going to kill me, literally. I stumble to the floor, using the door handle to help me up. I get up and turn the doorknob. It was stuck. I slam and slam but the door doesn't seem to open. I turn my back on him and let out a deep sigh. The complete silence is interrupted by sobs. I look out the window and see my parents crying. My mother is completely panicked. They are removing papers from all telephone stations. Missing leaflets. With my photo on it. "Calm down honey. I know it's been a rough few weeks, but the police said it's no longer helpful." A few weeks? There are so many unanswered questions until I look at my hands. They are as white as the boy who last held them. And I see the wood of the window through them...