The house was a normal house, small but cozy. With its red roof and cream walls, the house was exactly like every other one in the street.
But on the inside. . .
This house was crazy. The walls changed their shape everyday (this helped claustrophobic people) and the furniture would move itself. Sometimes, while you were using it.
This house was loved, with more care and kindness than the other houses. This house belonged to a family of four and then three, because I died.
I'm Ella, Ella Wentwick, and this is my explanation on my brothers behalf of his life. Be prepared to wince, squirm and never stop reading.