When I first moved into my new house I didn't believe in ghosts. I was skeptical when my little brother said " There a little girl in my closet and she's crying." I told him to stop lying and I would go see if there truly was and oh lord have mercy there was a little girl, she looked up at me with eyes full of hatred whenever she blinked my brother would start screaming. My dad rushed in and grabed my arm real rough he never acted like this and I was scared. The little girl blinked again and her eyes turned red. I started choking and I looked behind me and there was my dad choking me I couldn't scream. The ghost had possed him. All I could do was pray that brother would be okay. I blacked out. I remember waking up in a hospital with brother laying next to me he was very pale and bearly breathing. The next day my brother passed away. All I could do know was hope my dad was arrested. He choked me and my brother and him. You would have to pay me eternity money to make me go back in that house. Not even that. I now live with my aunt. We left everything at that house people still think we live there.
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