Oh Jesus Christ look at that, it's the place I was held literal prisoner by a sociopath. WHEW.....okay hold on......Imma have to run a lap real quick because this got me feeling all sorts of nope but I'm going to go there though, because in this week's blog I have another chilling tale for you. No, I'm not ready yet to talk about the things that idiot loser did to me in the attic of that house, perhaps someday in my book--but not here. What I'm going to talk about here is this house, and why it is evil. This is an EVIL, EVIL house, and I am so glad that I escaped with my life.
That being said, I would like to preface this wonderful story with the fact that I lived in this house for a year and a half. There is more evil in this house than anyone could begin to comprehend by just a glance; but there is more evil here, than the lurking spirits in the walls. This house, was owned by my torturers mother, who allowed the torturing to take place because she is crazy. They are all crazy, but that house has a way of making you mad, so perhaps they were once sane...that just doesn't seem to sit well with me. No, it is likely that house drew them because it feeds off crazy.....let me begin. 
I met fuckface psychopath through his very wealthy cousin who was a good friend of mine; I met said cousin through a group of friends that I had known and trusted for years and even though they led me to the back-ass woods (empty beach town) of Westerly, Rhode Island I trusted them. Well, fuck me amirite? because I should have known better. Cousin was a cool dude, but fuckface? Nah, he was cool at first...and when I ended up in a dire circumstance he offered me a place to stay--which I took because WOW thank you. This will only be temporary. Almost two years of temporary apparently. 
While I was living there I went through a lot but here I want to focus on the really strange things only, not the mind of an abusive delusional psychopath. Within the first couple of months I'd begun to notice little things. My stuff had begun going missing little by little, and as it was feminine things I noticed that were going missing i naturally blamed the idiot's mother. When I confronted her about it, she naturally denied it and things were tense. Not only this isolated incident either, no this happened A LOT. We were constantly arguing, and then finally something of actual value disappeared so I started asking my abuser. He denied it.
Weird. Am I going crazy? I'll just buy another one.The room we stayed in was near the attic, it was up at the top of the staircase and god it was fucking COLD all the time. NO matter what we tried to do, it was FREEEEEZING cold. Bitter cold in the winters. I always thought that was strange.
Then I'd started feeling like I was being watched....I know how that fucking sounds too because the other members of the house made it very clear that I was clearly the CRAZY one and out of line, ALL the time. But I'm not this type of paranoid wreck that I was in THAT house. I have anxiety, yes. But wow, no, something is watching me bro and I am not cool with it. As more time went on, I would constantly find myself talking to nothing; I would say things like, I'm just passing through or please leave me alone. It was very uncomfortable to live this way. Especially while showering, or dressing. Nothing ever truly felt private. 
Sometimes when I was home alone, I would swear I hear whispering but it was always incoherent. Sometimes I would hear it when everyone was home, they would be in the next room and say they never said anything. Sometimes they would be sleeping and I would hear it. It was unnerving. It made the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end CONSTANTLY like static electricity. I always felt so cold, and god so many times I had goosebumps all up and down my arms.
The straw that broke the camel's back though (LOL! CAMEL FACE!) was when I was home one night, locked in the attic as was per the usual when everyone left me home, and I was tapping on the keys of my computer. I heard something clear as day but I can't remember what it was. I just remember stopping what I was doing and looking around. I called out for fuckface thinking he was home, but he never answered. I climbed through the messy as fuck attic mess (the attic of a packrat is a disturbing place, I wonder what their minds look like....) and I looked out the window to find that the cars were all gone from the drive way. Then, climbing back down I looked through the hole in the floor by my bed (for my computer wires) and I didn't see anything. But what I heard will stay with me for the rest of my fucking life.
"Shhh.....she's listening."
WHAT. Uh no. FUCK no in fact. I wanted out. The windows unfortunately did not open so I was stuck in THAT room for the rest of the night until people came home. But you bet your ass I packed as much of my personal belongings as I could and I started networking online to be relieved of that situation. The more people that knew about what was happening to me in that place, meant the more freedom I would gain, it was time to put my oppressor under the spotlight and to break my chains. Eventually, I did, as I am no longer with that idiot.....but, it was certainly already terrifying and traumatic enough without adding the living on top of the dead in that house. THAT house, is evil and haunted. Fuckface and his mother are MESSED up swamp people that came into money somehow. This was truly, one of the most terrifying places I had ever been in my life for so long. I was scared for my life every day for a while, til I was gone.
Looking back on a picture of the house now, and talking about it, gave me a sick feeling--but I hope it at least made a good ghost story in time for the season. Happy Fall!
still have more planned too, no computer yet, but soon! If you blink youll miss it, so stay tuned!
Alright fam,
Love YOU! Stay tight! Stay Real! Be YOU!
Welcome to the ghoul fam xo *~Danii_Grimm~*
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