I got home late, expecting my brother to be asleep. But instead, he was downstairs, watching a scary film.
"Jase, why do you watch these films if you don't like them."
"'Cause, I like being scared." He replied simply,
"Yeah, that makes sense." I said sarcasticly. "What film is this one?" I asked,
"It's called The Haunting of Forty Hall, it's really good."
"Oh yeah? I've just been up there"
"Cool, you didn't go in the house, right?" He asked,
"Yeah, because I can get through any type of security." Sarcastic, again. He rolled his eyes, and turned the channel over.
"So, what's this one about, then?" I asked conversationly,
"It's about this kid that was a servent for Henry VIII when he lived in Forty Hall. He used to be abused, and once, he accidently killed a cat, and Henry VIII hanged him. Now, he haunts the top floor- that's why not even the cleaners can go up there. If you do, he moans and moves things, and shows up in your peripheral vision, and then he comes up to your face- like this close," he moved his hand so his palm was about an inch from my face, "and screams. Also, if you go up there, you come down with a red burn mark around your neck. That burn mark burns your head off after a few weeks."
I sighed and drifted up the stairs. The faint light outside had turned to darkness. Night. This was the worst time for me. When I'm alone in the dark. I hate it. Ever since my kidnapping. I could remember it perfectly; his cold hand wrapped around my mouth, laughing as I tried to scream. Teasing me, laughing when I cried. It hurt just to think about it again.
I woke with a gasp. I couldn't go through one night without a nightmare.