I Moved Into The House Where My Brother Committed Suicide And Weird Things Have Started Happening

I got home and trudged up the stairs to the guest bathroom. I stared at the mirror for a few minutes in mute silence, memorizing every aspect of it. The gold gilt frame, the small chip on the left side, and the words “DID YOU MISS ME?” scrawled across the front in red lipstick.

My vision swam and I stumbled out towards my bed. Was my lack of sleep giving me hallucinations? Was I dreaming right now? Could be, all I’d had lately were nightmares, if I’d been able to sleep at all. Maybe this was all one big nightmare.

A few minutes of willing myself to wake up and the ensuing frustrated tears proved that no, it was not a dream. It was very real. Too real.

Even so, I dragged myself into my bed. I’d held off sleep as long as I could, I’d reached my limit. Everything felt fuzzy and strange. My brain barely made sense of the situation, which is probably why I was so calm.

I passed out for 13 hours. Thirteen long, torturous hours. Thirteen hours of that swaying body, that creaking, and nothing else.

When I woke up, the message was gone. All part of my fatigued brain. Either that or some cruel trick of nature. Perhaps both? It didn’t matter, it was gone now.

Things were normal for a few days. My resolve weakened and I gave in to sleep, as horrible as my dreams were. They drained my spirit and left me lifeless, a body without a soul, wandering through a life that was no longer my own.

A week later, I received another message.

This one was a post-it note stuck to the fridge in the first-floor kitchen.

“MILK EGGS SUGAR LIPSTICK – P”

I couldn’t explain this away, no matter how hard I tried. I picked the paper up and held it between my fingers, running my fingertips across the messy script. Phillip’s handwriting only got this messy when he was really on a roll, trying to push the story out of the pen before it fell limp at his feet. It was almost as though he’d scrawled off the note during one of his “sessions” – that’s what he used to call it when he got really into a story, so far into it that he couldn’t see reality anymore.