I sat staring out of my window at the old tire swing near the front porch. Child hood memories fill my mind as the wind causes it to sway slightly. I could even hear the slight creaking of the old worn rope.
It’d been a long while since I’d been to my aunt’s house, especially after the incidence. The place was still in a wreck and my mind was still in a blurry haze. I couldn’t seem to recall much of the night but the fear still resided in the residence, that faint eerie giggle taunting me greatly.
Let me explain, my name is Steven, and you may or may not have read my last cry for help, if you haven’t then I’ll go ahead and apologize for any confusion you may or may not have here, but I’ll try to do as much as I can on the lines of explaining this.
The presence of three females remains with me, one was my aunt whom past of a terminal illness long before this all happened, the second was Jessica, the mother of the two girls who lived with me, and the last was that of a young child who met the end of her days far too early, Olivia.
I sigh averting my gaze from the swing back to the living room. The first thing to greet my tired weary eyes is the broken hand rail; the pieces had been picked up by somebody, presumably the police. Even the window had been repaired.
I shiver at the thought of it; she’d thrown her own child out the second story window out of vengeful rage. Jessica was a good woman, and I could tell she still loved her daughter to the very moment those small cold hands dug the glass into her pale neck; it was such a shame to see she’d truly decided to solve it that way.
Walking up the steps to the second story i stopped taking note of how the wallpaper had been changed and the plain birch floor now had carpet. Who would try to renovate an abandoned house?
“Hello?” I stop in my tracks. The voice was faint but still audible, was someone in my house? The court said it was still in my name so nobody could have moved in but a tired old bum.
“Hello who’s there?” I watch as the figure of a tall slim younger woman, maybe in her early twenties, walked into the hallway. One of the first things I noticed was her short raven black hair, and how she reminded me of her.
“Jessica?” I asked unsure. The woman turned around, her deeply tinted black sunglasses meeting my worn eyes. ‘That could be her’ I thought looking for the line across her neck. She took her glasses off looking at me with empty eye sockets