"You Don't exist. You only think you do."

These were the words I'd heard every second I was in that house. Not a whisper from a closet, not an eerie voice in a corner, but a message being transmitted into my skull from the rooms themselves.

No "get out."

No blood on the walls or ghosts in chains startling me in dark places. Just the repeating waves of thought coming from some being within those walls.

It was worse that way.

You couldn't think for one moment.

Nothing but that phrase rattling around in your mind.

"You don't exist."

You could fight it.

"I do exist. I'm right here. I'm looking out this clouded window onto an empty street. I'm feeling and breathing. Of course I exist."

But it made no difference.

Your subconscious never cared.

The depressed quarters I was standing in never cared.

They just kept telling me.

The same message.

The bland statement that I came to find held more meaning than anything shouted or cursed across that long upstairs hallway.

The house had been trying to tell me all along.

"You only thinkā€¦"

But I didn't think.

I made a big mistake.