I lie down in bed.

All hope of restful sleep had been forgotten a long time ago.

If I hadn't been so emotionally attached to this place, maybe I could've been pushed to move. To leave this place....but I couldn't.

This small two story home was everything to my mother.

Everything about her early life had been tragic and she'd done her best to shield me from it.

She'd had me at 15.

Never told me who my father was but it was obvious from the behavior of other family members that they never approved. Mom never once batted an eye and always showed me absolute love and compassion. She always told me that she'd never change a thing about being a young single mother.

My mother took in every job she could for this place. I smile as I think back to when I was 6.

I walked alongside my mom, wearing jeans, a long sleeve striped shirt and pigtails. My hands gripped the paint strip samples tightly. I'm so excited I'm dancing with excitement. My mom smiled and laughed while trying to settle me down. We spent hours picking out the best colors. Mom had the best idea: themed rooms.

My mom worked like magic.

After spending years waiting tables, she'd finally spent enough time building her portfolio that clients began to roll in and she finally quit, working full time on her dream.

My mom's favorite service by far was customizing rooms for her clients.

No challenge was too much.

Furniture that fit the mood.

Perfect pillows for the sofas.

Everything she designed was just enough to be elegant without being too much.

After her business took off, Mom had calls from elegant classy looks straight out of a magazine to crazy pieces of fantasy for children. Every time she picked up the phone, she would perk up with excitement.

It was so exciting to see my mom happy.

But here we were 4 years later.

I'm fresh out of college and she's gone.

She crashed her car on the way home due to a seizure and she died on impact.

My mother wasn't the only casualty.

She collided with a car on the opposite stretch of highway killing everyone inside.

An aunt and uncle with their nephew on a casual Sunday drive.

It will always kill me that she never got to see me walk across the stage when I graduated.

She'd inspired me so much to get into home decor.

"Do you know why I take such special care of every single person who wants me to paint for them?" She had asked me one day

We were busy cleaning out our crappy way-too-small apartment, getting it ready for the next people moving in.

It was getting closer to moving day and we still had boxes sitting next to the front door but we were almost ready.

We were finally going to the dream home.

It had been my mother's most special project.

She'd saved up enough with her odd jobs for the deposit, got a loan from my Aunt Krista and began working on moving things in. She wanted it to be a surprise and didn't want to show until everything was decorated.

Even without saying anything, I could tell she was happier. When I'd ask, she would just grin and tell me that I'd know soon.

Later on I would find a beautiful two story home with walls covered in paint and simple decor, making it look so effortlessly realistic in its' design. The largest room was the living room. Alongside the wall was a window. Next to it, a large bookshelf filled with stories. Some I'd heard. Others, I didn't recognize.

As I lie on the bed staring at the ceiling, it starts again and I freeze.

The slow creak of a rocking chair on the worn floorboards of the attic.

The completely empty attic.

It had started after Mom had passed.

In the beginning, it gave me some comfort.

She would rock me to sleep every night from the day I was born until I was 15.

They were some of the most blissful moments.

She could've been on her feet all day but still made time to check in with her baby girl.

I still hear the words she used to say, echoing in my brain:

"No matter how bad the days are, I'll always rock you to sleep my little darling."

I did the same for her, believing she was working herself too hard.

I was numb for the first few weeks after she passed. I couldn't really tell you what happened the first few days, I was so out of it.

I was on the cusp of sleep the first time I'd heard it, the rhythmic rocking of the chair.

It lulled me to sleep.

But slowly, the more I began to adjust to life without Mom, the intensity of the situation became more noticeable. The reality was that it slowly got a little louder the first few nights. Then it was so faint I could barely hear it.

It stayed that way and I thought that perhaps this was all finally over. Maybe this was from grief. We knew when we bought the house that there was nothing up in the attic.

It was impossible.

The people who lived in the house before us tried to make a cheap fix to the roof when a tree fell down. Long story short, the attic became unusable. It was fixed but Mom just decided it would be best not to store anything up there just in case.

The attic is empty. It's always been empty.

I repeat this to myself just about every night at least a dozen times when the sound begins to unnerve me.

My first paycheck is coming soon.

I take out my phone.

I groan as I check the time.

5:25 AM

I'd need to be up in a few hours.

I sigh, open my shopping list app and begin typing out on the keypad.

Earbuds & Earplugs

Not all earbuds are great when it comes to volume. I need it to tune out the stupid chair.

It lets out another loud creak and I groan.

I place one of the pillows over my face to block out the noise but it's no use.

The wooden squeal simply increases.

Hours pass.

Even having my phone at full volume is not enough. Nothing ever is enough.

I scream in frustration.

Why don't I live somewhere else?

Why don't I crash with someone else?

I tried.

I couch surfed for a total of 7 hours.

But I still heard the creaks echoing in my head.

I could never escape it.

Couldn't get rid of the house or the noise.

Eventually I wasn't sleeping at all.

I became trapped in this house.

Two weeks later my friend contacted the cops when she hadn't heard from me.

An hour later they would find my body.