The house that I built is a strange one, but it's mine and I love it
Despite the constant wails from my guests in the basement, despite the ever-lasting stench of blood and rotting flesh. It's mine.
I don't understand why they aren't grateful. I built them a home.
I told my wife the house would be beautiful, but she didn't want to move.
I told the kids we'd start a better life in the house, but they didn't want to leave their friends.
But I built the house anyways, and we all moved in and we're all happy.
The house that I built is a cursed one, filled with the terror and pain of a broken family, but it's mine and I love it.
