I’m looking for something. I know it’s in that room. I just don’t know yet what it is
The thing with houses at 3 a.m. is that they’re dark. And full of sounds you don’t seem to notice during the day, like the humming of electronics, like creaking of the stairs. Like something scratching just outside.
It’s not that the dark or the noises bother me. It’s just that each sound makes me freeze and hold my breath, because it sounded so loud to me, what if it wakes my sisters, or my mother?
There’s a reason I’m doing this at three in the morning, instead of sleeping like a normal person who spent the entire day entertaining strangers and is going to have to do it all over again tomorrow.
My bed is calling my name, but the room at the top of the basement stairs is calling louder.
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