The Wrong Address | COMPLETED

01- The Letter Arrives

Ashlin

I've always been a lover of peace and quiet. I found joy in being alone, cooped up in my room reading comics. Yet sometimes being alone made me crazy because in my weird and twisted mind my house was haunted.

Everytime my mother was away the house felt different. It felt like it was mocking me. As I'd see shadows around the place, only for them to be clothes or household objects when the lights were on.

So you could imagine how hesitant I was towards my mom leaving for a few weeks. Although she assured me it was just paranoia. We all know that's what it always seems at first in the movies. Then BAM out of nowhere you find yourself running from a ghost.

For my peace of mind, she had settled with asking the neighbors to check in every evening to ensure I was doing ok. I was 18, capable of taking care of myself yes but my mom was super overprotective of me. Me believing in ghost just made it worse. At times I found her concern adorable, then other times a bit suffocating.

Anyways as much as I loved the alone time, I hated how the house felt without her. It felt haunted, dark and almost sinister. I knew deep down it was probably just my mind paying me back for that one scary movie I had watched back when I was in freshman year. Oh how I regret that awful decision.

Shaking myself out of my woes, I got dressed for work. I had a decent job, as I worked at the library close to my home. It was pretty easy and super peaceful , So I took on night shifts and full weekends, while I attended school in the week during the day time. Although my parents were affluent I refused to take advantage of their money. Instead I allowed them to pay for school while I paid for my shopping sprees, snacks and anything personal.

I had no intention of being a spoiled brat and I was determined to work hard for my own money.

After getting dressed, I made my way down the stairs and as I went down they made squeaky noises. Which never happened when mom was around, only when I was alone. A clear indication my imaginary ghosts were playing with me. There was no other explanation.

After descending the stairs successfully, I arrived at the sitting room,  retrieved my coat from the rack by the door and looked around to see if anything was out of place. Grabbing my umbrella as well for precautionary measures, I unlocked the door. You could never tell when it would rain in this town. For me it seemed it only happened when I leave the umbrella. So I was taking it because I had no intention of getting wet that Saturday.

Pushing the door open, I stepped out into the cold air and stepped onto the porch. Shivering oh so slightly at the thought of coming home in this weather I pulled my beanie from my coat pocket and secured it unto my head. The weather was always worse in the evenings and unfortunately that was the time I got off. Just my luck I guess.

I didn't have a car because I refused mom's offer to get me one. I told her I would save for one. So I took the bus everyday to get to work. Which wasn't easy with the wind howling in my ears early every morning.

I tried my best to stay grounded in these situations. Knowing if I didn't, I'd probably take mom up on her offer. Which would go against all I stood for, in the last 3 years.

Many would say I was an idiot but for me it was personal. I saw first hand, the damaging effects of taking advantage of people's money. My brother Ryan showed me it all. He would destroy his phone Everytime the newer model came out because he knew Dad would pay for it. He took advantage of less fortunate kids by paying them to do his work. As if he couldn't get any worse he threw a huge tantrum when he was going off to college because mom didn't get him the car he wanted.

He was rotten to the core but I had tried my best to still see the good in him. Until he crossed the line and caused my best friend Gabriana to cry. He had bullied her, telling her to get surgery for her big nose. Calling her out for wearing fake Gucci and telling her she'd never amount to anything.