I wanted to ask the people out there about some problems I've been having since I moved into my new home. My family keeps telling me I shouldn't worry, but I don't feel the same. There's a lot to write, so I'll put this in parts, but I hope it'll be enough for someone to give me some answers.
My parents had been saving up to buy a new house for years. They wanted to buy in cash and not rely on a loan (I know, crazy right?) so it's been a long time coming and a lot of belt-tightening that we really shouldn't have needed. But in the end, they found a two-floor house with a little bit of land on it. Not a whole lot, but more than just a backyard and a lawn. We moved in a couple weeks ago and got all our stuff settled in.
There's not much to say about the house. It's got a garage, living room, kitchen, just your standard stuff. There's a bathroom separating my room and my parents' room, and a guestroom next to mine. My room's a bit small compared to the others, but I didn't have much stuff and I liked having everything within a couple steps from my bed. It didn't take me long to break the room in and get my posters hung up, my gaming consoles set up, and my PC humming underneath a desk in the corner.
My best friend, a guy named Robert, came over recently to help me beat Gears of War on the Xbox. My parents were out working for most of the day, so we shacked up in the living room and just played for 7 hours. We'd been eating snacks the whole time, but hadn't drank much, so I went to the kitchen to grab some sodas. When I came back, Robert wasn't in the living room anymore.
He had gone upstairs and was standing near my room. I gave him a punch on the shoulder as a joke, but he freaked out and almost smacked my head off.
"Woah dude. What's the matter?" (I don't know if that's exactly what I said, I'm just typing it as I remember it).
"Shit, you scared me."
"What are you doing up here?"
He held up a hand and looked at the guestroom. No one used the guestroom, but my parents thought keeping doors open was better for ventilation. So I was surprised to see the door closed almost all the way.
"Did you go in there?"
"No. I heard a thump from downstairs, so I came to check it out."
"Stop messing around, My parents always leave that door open. You went in."
"Dude, it was like that when I got here."
"Liar. You went in to check the noise, right?"
"No. I told you, I didn't go in. I was going to go in, but the door moved."
Now that made me do a double-take on the room. My parents didn't leave the windows open around this time of the year. We didn't have any pets or anything and no one was in the house except Robert and me.
My first thought was a robber. My second thought was Robert was still screwing with me. But when I looked at his face, it looked so serious that I couldn't believe he was messing around. Robert wasn't a clowny friend, he was the get-your-shit-together-before-you-go-to-college friend.
"I'm dead serious. Now shut up, I'm trying to listen."
It looked like Robert had the same idea. We strained our ears to try and hear if anything was in the room.
Nothing. I couldn't hear a thing. Now that I was listening carefully, I realized just how quiet the house got when no one else was home. It was so quiet that I could even hear the hum of electricity from the light in my room. But nothing from the guestroom.
"Are you sure you saw the door move?"
I couldn't help but ask. The longer we stood there, the more silly I felt. If there was a robber in there, why would he be scared of a couple high school sophomores?
"I fucking saw it move."
Robert wasn't going to let this go. I knew that we had to open the door and check. If someone was really in there, it'd be stupid to leave. But we couldn't do anything just standing there. I told Robert this and he agreed. Anyways, there was probably nothing there. Maybe the hinges were loose and the door had just closed on its own. There was probably some sort of weird scientific explanation for this, like why toilets flushed in different directions in Australia.
We walked towards the door slowly. Still nothing. Even though the crack through the door was pitch-black, we would've seen something, right? That's what I thought, but for some reason, my hand wouldn't move. We were standing right in front of the door now, but neither of us made a move to push it open. My mind filled with impossible thoughts, like any second now, someone would whip the door open and slit our necks. I thought about pushing the door open, having my hand right on the smooth white paint, then seeing nothing. Walking in, my breath the only thing I can hear, and flicking the light switch up.
Every single thought turned to death. Every single movement got me killed. My body was drowning in paranoia. I looked over at Robert and he scrunched up his face and shoved his hand at the door.