April 12th

I suppose I wouldn’t be sitting here right now had I not been the kind of person I am.

The clouds are grey and billowing, and there seems to be some almost-but-not-quite bare branch that loves scraping against the wall of the bedroom I’m in. The wind is howling, and as I’m sitting here at the computer typing in this journal entry that’s part of the deal, I can feel the cold that seeps through the whole entire house. I’m not kidding.

Do you want to know why I’m here? I’ll tell you. I was just adopted recently by a man who wanted to do a psychological test, and I was the perfect candidate. I’m quiet, I don’t talk much, and I really don’t get along that well with people my own age. Usually my best friends are middle-age adults. So I’m really a loner, if I even count as that.

Well, the test runs like this: He wants to see what effects living in a mansion that’s rumored to be haunted—though it is more rumors than sightings, because no ghosts have actually been seen—for a year will cause in a teenage girl.

Guess what?

I’m that girl.