I'm not sure what it is exactly that keeps me up anymore at night. All I know is that if I go to sleep, it won't just make me more valuable. It's like memories from past people flood my mind whenever I even close my eyes for an hour around here. Memories of past times, when everything was different and when they lost their lives.
Sirens can be heard in the near distance, as once again, police lights are cast above the wall in front of my bed. As usual, I can not sleep. It is nearing midnight and I am wide awake, staring at nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. I always feel like there's eyes on me, from a distance, it always feels like something is watching me.
Of course, I've told everyone I thought I could trust about this, but they all said the same thing. That I'm crazy. Maybe to them I am; only this time I get the feeling that they're very very wrong.
Something moves in the shadow of the doorway and I know that it's to late to pretend to be asleep. I watch as the same apparition of the girl in the attic makes her way toward me. That's when I notice something off about the dress she's wearing. There's a blood stain on the front and it looks not only ragged but torn. It might have been a good pretty dress before it became the last thing she ever wore.
She looks at me and in her eyes I see sadness. Can spirits feel? I don't know. I watch as she sits on the end of my bed; she studies me as I study her. I wonder what she wants. The image of the board hidden back under my mattress pad flashes into my mind, but I shake my head no. There's still no door to my room and I don't know if that thing that's possessed my brother even sleeps.
I see her think about this for a moment and then she disappears. I hear something open the top of the desk on the other side of the room and watch as yellowed pages, the ink well, and the pen are pulled out; the lid is shut gently and the items placed on top.
I can't stop my curiosity now. Not even if I wanted to. I look out into the hallway to make sure that he's not somewhere watching then quickly move over to the desk. I watch as the ink well fills up with something that looks dark, it takes me a moment to realize that it isn't ink. It's blood.
Horror grips my insides but this is the information I've been waiting for a very long time. I watch as the pen is dipped in the blood ink and a piece of yellowed parchment is flattened out on the desk, then in almost delicate handwriting, I watch as the girl begins to tell her tale.
