2My house had broken shutters, and blue paint chips were littering the ground. The windows were boarded up giving the house an eerie darkness. The front door would never stay quiet, always had to make noise. Although that's because mama never had enough money to fix it. My sister, Jessica's bed was brown and smelled of mold, mine was cleaner, but that's only because I had the dry room. At my house ants and spiders infested the kitchen, the living room always smelled musty, you couldn't sit on the couch or you would be forced to smell like rotten banannas. You would have to wait until our weekly bath to get the smell off. Mama's bedroom was my favorite, all of her knick-knacks, the smell of her perfume that she claimed papa bought her, but I knew that she stole it, her beautiful hope-chest. She told me that when I grow up and she has to die, I get the chest. She always told me not to tell Jessica because she would be jealous. I did once, mama was right she yelled at me and then threw me out of her room that had no door. She never liked me. Always yelling at me. She never loved me. Mama did, she loved me with all her heart, she said papa did too. Until he died in the war. I was only six months, I didn't understand. Although I never grew up to ever understand. The only thing that I remember that fateful night was the smell of death and total darkness.
"Mama, is that the house?" I asked as my mother, sister, and our old, beat-up chevy drove up a mournful looking driveway to a house that looked even sadder.
"Yep, 44 Long rd." Mama's sweet, raspy voice reassured me.
"So, Martha, did you hear this house is haunted?" Jessica cackled in the way she always does when she wants to annoy mama.
"Jessica Lake, don't you ever lie to your sister about such ridiculaus things. The house isn't haunted." Mama told me while she put a hand on my knee making me feel secure. Although every step I took in that house it felt like someone was there with me. My sister kept telling me to get used to its bloodcurdling akwardness. She was always mean like that. When we moved in the only pocessions we had was my mother's hope-chest, two pairs of clothes for each of us, and the necklace's that mama gave both, me and Jessica, on our third birthday. It was a locket, inside was a picture of mama and papa. Mama always told us that it was a reminder of what papa looked like. Mama said that papa was a great man, always looking out for his family, he was rich too. Yet, he was stupid, ddin't plan on leaving anytime soon so he didn't have a will. He left nothing to mama. She lost the house and all the beautiful pocession's it held. We lived on the street a little, begging for money. Then mama found a newspaper on the ground with an ad for the house. It said free. Mama knew that it wouldn't be the greatest house, but it was better than the life on the street. Jessica always asked mama why it was free, she would just reply because it was so nice that nobody wanted to buy it, they had to get rid of it. I knew she was just lying. Mama's friend, Louise, fixed up the chevy that we found in a junk yard so that we could drive to the house.
"We're here," Mama said it like it was hurtful as the words traveled out of her mouth, "Jessica, help me get my hope-chest." Mama opened the car door, it made an ear shatterinng cry, as if it were having pain from being opened.
"Sure, whatever." Jessica got out too, though her door did not cry as mama's did. I was left, all alone, since I was only five I started to cry. My vision was blured by the tears that were swelling in my eyes, travling down my white compleaxion. Mama heard my cries and ran to get me. I heard her yell at Jessica for not getting me out and then I felt a warm hand touch my face wiping away a salty tear that was making it's way to me open mouth. Mama lifted me up, it was easy for her the car didn't have any seat-belts. She took me out of the car and I felt the cool breeze of the october afternoon, I could smell the decaying smell of wet leaves. Mama held me close and I stopped crying, Jessica just stood on the other side of the chevy, her arms folded, a sour face was plastered on.
"Jessica, I can't belive you would do that!" Mama screamed accidently in my ear, making me jump and shiver at the same time.
"What? I thought you were going to get her. It's not my fault." Jessica told Mama putting her arms higher on her chest. She always did hate me.