Chapter One

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                It was a cloudy day in Ashland, Oregon. Or at least that's what she thought during the drive across the cracked concrete roads and the many states that only drove her farther and farther away from home. Drops of morning dew saturated the windshield of a dull, light blue truck that made its way down the town's streets, heading uphill it would seem. Charlotte, with her chin resting on her hand, only stared at the dark trees that passed by until they faded away into the rest of the forest. Her greenish hazel eyes held so much behind them. They held tears, dread, sadness, and other emotions she dared not show. Yet, despite the lump in her throat, she had the energy to ask, "Do you suppose it will clear up soon? I don't remember the last time I've seen a sunny day..." Her voice broke the silence. The man driving, her dad, answered with an emotionless reply, "The radar says it will be a while." He straightened his round-lensed glasses before adjusting his hands on the wheel again. No one would've guessed they were related. He was a rather plain looking man with a classic broom stash on his face along with a plaid green shirt that had a couple of stains. His hair was brown and visibly growing grey on each side of his head. Ever since the divorce, it seemed as if his greys were getting more dominant each passing day. Charlotte on the other hand, had her mother's bright ginger hair with adorable freckles on each cheek. She wore a purple jacket anyone would've identified as too big or oversized for a lady like her. Charlotte also loved to express herself unlike her father, who only did so when absolutely needed. However, the past few weeks have been different. She missed her mom, and she certainly wished she didn't have a scholarship to this brand new collage she's heard so much about.

They had been traveling forever in the truck just to get from Florida to Oregon. So much so, the backseat began to stink. She was certain her luggage had cobwebs on it from sitting there for so long. Her expression was as blank as a statue as she sighed and turned to look out the window again. Passing a speed bump, the only thing Charlotte could think about was her mother. At least her mother was back in Jacksonville were it was bright and familiar. The old truck finally drove into a clearing where the trees backed away in order to reveal their new home. Of course, Charlotte would never think to call it that. She had enough of a view to read the sign out front, which read in faded letters, "Pink Palace Apartments." Her eyes shifted to the large house, which was indeed pink, but it looked rather abandoned. Charlotte couldn't have thought twice to think that the word "palace" might've been exaggerated a little too much. Her heart only sunk even more as the truck pulled up to park. "Home sweet home." Her dad said as he turned the old engine off. She stepped out of the car in order to fully view it. The pink paint was fading, the lightness of the white outlined windows seemed to be caving, and overall, it had a certain vibe to it she couldn't describe. If she had to put it in words, it felt as if the walls had eyes. A type of energy radiated off of it, unreal... supernatural almost. The thoughts of it being haunted were bold. But then, Charlotte only huffed and thought, "I wouldn't even live here as a ghost."

"Would you help an old man out?" Her dad called from behind the truck, struggling with a rather obnoxiously large suitcase. Not saying a word, she walked over to him to help him unload. It wasn't much, only his belongings and hers. No matter how much she had begged him for a moving van, he had claimed it was too expensive, and instead decided to squish it all in the back seat.

Charlotte opened the front door with a squeak, letting her father in before returning for her stuff as well. After the two made a couple of trips, she was disgusted to find an old, moldy, abandoned sandwich on the bottom floor of the backseat. No wonder it smelled so bad. Throwing it out, she took the rest of her things and decided not to help unload anymore. As soon as she walked back into the house, she had that dawning feeling again. The feeling of being watched crept into her mind. Pushing it away for now, she explored the interior of their dining room, main hallway, and the living room. All of which was very plain and dead. She wondered how long ago it had been since anyone lived here. Judging by the old wallpaper and the old fashioned smell, it looked like years. Charlotte knew that this place had been around ever since the 1800s, and according to her dad, over a hundred and fifty years old. In the living room, she saw that her dad had put down most of his things there to unpack later. There wasn't much decoration aside from a painting above the old fireplace, which looked like it hadn't been used since the beginning of time. The picture showcased a small sad boy in blue old-timey clothes, with an empty ice cream cone that was spilled onto the ground. Leaving her things on the wooden coffee table, she decided to see if her room was just as worse.

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