It was a cloudy day in Ashland, Oregon. Or at least that's what she thought during the drive across the cracked concrete roads and the many states that only drove her farther and farther away from home. Drops of morning dew saturated the windshield of a dull, light blue truck that made its way down the town's streets, heading uphill it would seem. Charlotte, with her chin resting on her hand, only stared at the dark trees that passed by until they faded away into the rest of the forest. Her greenish hazel eyes held so much behind them. They held tears, dread, sadness, and other emotions she dared not show. Yet, despite the lump in her throat, she had the energy to ask, "Do you suppose it will clear up soon? I don't remember the last time I've seen a sunny day..." Her voice broke the silence. The man driving, her dad, answered with an emotionless reply, "The radar says it will be a while." He straightened his round-lensed glasses before adjusting his hands on the wheel again. No one would've guessed they were related. He was a rather plain looking man with a classic broom stash on his face along with a plaid green shirt that had a couple of stains. His hair was brown and visibly growing grey on each side of his head. Ever since the divorce, it seemed as if his greys were getting more dominant each passing day. Charlotte on the other hand, had her mother's bright ginger hair with adorable freckles on each cheek. She wore a purple jacket anyone would've identified as too big or oversized for a lady like her. Charlotte also loved to express herself unlike her father, who only did so when absolutely needed. However, the past few weeks have been different. She missed her mom, and she certainly wished she didn't have a scholarship to this brand new collage she's heard so much about.
They had been traveling forever in the truck just to get from Florida to Oregon. So much so, the backseat began to stink. She was certain her luggage had cobwebs on it from sitting there for so long. Her expression was as blank as a statue as she sighed and turned to look out the window again. Passing a speed bump, the only thing Charlotte could think about was her mother. At least her mother was back in Jacksonville were it was bright and familiar. The old truck finally drove into a clearing where the trees backed away in order to reveal their new home. Of course, Charlotte would never think to call it that. She had enough of a view to read the sign out front, which read in faded letters, "Pink Palace Apartments." Her eyes shifted to the large house, which was indeed pink, but it looked rather abandoned. Charlotte couldn't have thought twice to think that the word "palace" might've been exaggerated a little too much. Her heart only sunk even more as the truck pulled up to park. "Home sweet home." Her dad said as he turned the old engine off. She stepped out of the car in order to fully view it. The pink paint was fading, the lightness of the white outlined windows seemed to be caving, and overall, it had a certain vibe to it she couldn't describe. If she had to put it in words, it felt as if the walls had eyes. A type of energy radiated off of it, unreal... supernatural almost. The thoughts of it being haunted were bold. But then, Charlotte only huffed and thought, "I wouldn't even live here as a ghost."
"Would you help an old man out?" Her dad called from behind the truck, struggling with a rather obnoxiously large suitcase. Not saying a word, she walked over to him to help him unload. It wasn't much, only his belongings and hers. No matter how much she had begged him for a moving van, he had claimed it was too expensive, and instead decided to squish it all in the back seat.
Charlotte opened the front door with a squeak, letting her father in before returning for her stuff as well. After the two made a couple of trips, she was disgusted to find an old, moldy, abandoned sandwich on the bottom floor of the backseat. No wonder it smelled so bad. Throwing it out, she took the rest of her things and decided not to help unload anymore. As soon as she walked back into the house, she had that dawning feeling again. The feeling of being watched crept into her mind. Pushing it away for now, she explored the interior of their dining room, main hallway, and the living room. All of which was very plain and dead. She wondered how long ago it had been since anyone lived here. Judging by the old wallpaper and the old fashioned smell, it looked like years. Charlotte knew that this place had been around ever since the 1800s, and according to her dad, over a hundred and fifty years old. In the living room, she saw that her dad had put down most of his things there to unpack later. There wasn't much decoration aside from a painting above the old fireplace, which looked like it hadn't been used since the beginning of time. The picture showcased a small sad boy in blue old-timey clothes, with an empty ice cream cone that was spilled onto the ground. Leaving her things on the wooden coffee table, she decided to see if her room was just as worse.
No matter where she was in this house, the smells of dust and wood never left her. She knew her allergies would escalate sooner or later. Walking to the bathroom in order to do her business, she was horrified to find several dead roaches on the bottom of the bathtub. Looking at the wall, she saw a few that were still alive! Acting quickly, she tore off her shoe and began to kill them as they scurried off in different directions. After most of them were dead, she made a promise to herself not to bathe here for a while. She never liked bugs. In fact, insects were a small fear of hers. Turning on the water on the showerhead, she sprayed away the dead roaches and watched them all float down the drain. Watching them do was enough to make her gag and shiver. Suddenly she didn't have to go to the restroom anymore after that incident. Washing her hands, she went upstairs. The floorboards creaked slightly as she walked through all the rooms. Surprisingly, hers wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be. It was a normal space, with the luck of having windows. Making a note to check for bed bugs later, she dusted off the bed and decided that it the vibes would feel better if she decorated with a little personal touch. Looking at the cracked ceiling, she spotted a leak. Therefore she found a bucket and put it underneath before it became too messy. She spent so long trying to tidy things up, she nearly forgot that she left the rest of her things downstairs. Just as she finished airing out the dust, something caught her eye. Beside the bed was a wooden nightstand, but in its unfurnished drawers, looked to be something sticking out.
Confused, she walked over to it with curiosity. It looked like orange yarn of some kind that was preventing the drawer from fully closing. Oddly enough, she could've sworn it wasn't there before. Opening the drawer, she gasped in surprise as she realized there was an entire doll attached to it! Charlotte marveled at it. The feeling of being watched now maximized as she looked at it. Picking it up, she felt goose bumps all over her body. She didn't know if it was confusion or fear, but whatever it was, it hit her like a brick. The doll had her ginger hair, her freckles, her huge purple jacket, and two dark green buttons for eyes to accompany the raggedy object. That's how the afternoon went from sad and depressing to creepy in less than five minutes. The resemblance it had to her was unbelievable. Taking the doll, she examined it with both fascination and puzzlement. She knew nobody who would have such a thing made for her. Her dad wasn't one to surprise her, and her mom, friends, and grandparents were back in Jacksonville... Not only that, but by the looks of it, the doll looked as old as the house. Just to be sure, she rushed back down stairs, her tennis shoes stomping on the wooden steps.
Reaching the bottom, she heard her dad talking on the phone in the living room. Thinking he was talking to one of his friends back in Florida, she was about to interrupt. However, as she reached the living room's door frame, she nearly froze. Sitting on the couch, her dad held his lousy flip phone to his ear, "Miranda, I told you, she's busy. We'll call you after Charlotte's settled with all this collage business." The realization he was talking to her mom made her heart light up for the first time in a while. She approached him swiftly, eagerness overcoming her sadness for the move. "I have time to talk!" She said, standing in front of him. Her dad raised his hand, indicating for her to be quiet for a moment as he continued to talk with her mom. "No, no, she's fine. Of course she's happy!" He was referring to her. "Dad, come on!" Charlotte tried again, but instead, she was ignored. "Sure I'll tell her... alright. Goodbye." He hung up. The sound of the dial ending was enough to crush her. However, he acted like nothing was wrong and instead continued to unpack a bunch of useless things such as the snow globe collection he held so dear. Charlotte didn't move. Her face went red, both anger and sadness. "Why couldn't I talk to her?" She asked, trying with all her might not to sound angry. Setting the doll down on the table, she stood next to her father with crossed arms. He merely shook his head, "It's none of your business... she was just checking in." That only made her even more upset. "Of course it's my business! She's my mom, and I still love her. I haven't seen her almost two weeks!" She argued. Snapping, her father faced her and placed his hands on his hips. "I don't care if you're not a little kid anymore, you do not talk to me like that!" His words stung. "Talk to you like what? Like an adult?" She put her hands on her hips too, just to match him.
"Watch it." He growled. "We saved a good deal of money because of that scholarship. I won't see you throw it all away just because you miss your mommy." Charlotte felt something in her snap. Before she could even think, she grabbed one of his snow globes and threw it against the wall. The glass shattered and the contents spilled all over the dusty wooden floor within seconds. Just the sound of it was enough to make her anger flare. "What do you think you're doing?!" Her dad yelled at her, undoubtedly loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "This is why mom divorced you." She said quietly, attempting to walk away only for him to grab her arm. Almost as fast as she had acted, she felt a harsh slap go right across her face. It was so sudden, she cried out in alarm. Recovering from the sting, she looked back at him with watery eyes. Her dad had no expression, but his eyes said it all. Realizing what he had done, he had a little regret in his eyes. It had only been two weeks since he had last struck her mother, but never, never did Charlotte think that he'd lay a hand on her as well. "... Just clean up this mess. I'm going for a walk." He finally said, breaking the long pause of silence. She watched him walk right past her, as if none of that had happened. After she heard him walk out the door, slamming it behind him, her eyes refused to hold back anymore tears. She didn't bother to walk out of the living room. Instead she walked over to the mess and sat down on the floor. This was a reason she wore such a big coat, so it could serve as both a pillow and protection.
Letting her tears fall, she couldn't help but wish to be somewhere else. Anywhere was better than here. Charlotte wanted badly to live in the college dorms, but like always, it cost money. Something her Cheapskate of a father could afford, but as always, chose not to. Getting up, she quickly fetched cleaning supplies from the kitchen cupboard. As her hand wiped away the sparkly goop, she felt her cheek that got slapped start to hurt. Maybe a bruise would form there later, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, it didn't really matter. As soon as the floor was devoid of any trace of broken glass, she decided to go to bed early. Then, she realized she left the doll on the table. With slow and heavy steps, she was surprised to see that it wasn't there. In a panic, she looked behind the sofa, then in the hallway, but as she approached the room again, she saw it. The doll that looked like her was on the ground, not at all where she had left it beforehand. Its upper half was visible, but the rest of it was hidden behind a rather large box that they had brought with them. Sighing shakily, she moved the box aside. But then, she paused. "Wha?" She breathed, fully pushing the box away to reveal a door. Not a normal door, a small, crawlspace door. It had rips at the edges, as if someone had opened it even after it had gotten wallpapered over. Digging her nails into the seams, she pulled, only to find that such a door was locked rather tightly. Pulling away, she knew that there was a drawer full of keys in the kitchen. With haste, she sped walked to the kitchen and began to rummage through the old drawers until she found the right one. Several keys were inside, including the addition of the ones to her dad's truck. With an idea that the key she was looking for was most likely going to be unique and unusual, her suspicions were confirmed as she came across that of a strange key. It was black and smooth, with a large button as its center.
Thinking back to her doll, she stopped to stare at this key. Something was truly strange about all of this. Did it have to do with who left the doll? Turning her head to gaze out the window, she saw her dad outside on the front porch, cigarette in hand as he exhaled a puff of smoke. So much for a walk. Watching him take one more puff, he began his way back to the front door. Charlotte reasoned with herself that the doll couldn't have been his doing. Closing the drawer, she approached the small door. Taking her doll, she pushed the box back in front of it. Devising a plan, she thought to herself that later tonight she'd unlock it when he falls asleep. Tucking the key into her pocket, she hurried back to her room and turned off the lights so he'd think she went to bed already. Charlotte didn't care if she'd be hungry without dinner. No dinner was better than the takeout food they ate for weeks on end. Her growling stomach might've disagreed. She didn't know why, but she felt compelled to say to the doll, "We'll figure it out." Sitting on her cold bed, she heard her dad walk by her door. For a moment she grew nervous. His footsteps paused, but then continued back downstairs once he saw that her lights were out. She buried herself beneath her rough covers and hard mattress. In a sigh of relief, she pulled out a book from her suitcase that sat by her bed. It was something given to her by her mother, an old classic. Looking at her wrist watch, she saw it was only eight o'clock. Her dad wouldn't sleep until ten at the earliest. Therefore, she began to read while she waited. Stories were a good way to pass the time. Her eyes scanned over the words on each page until her mind felt burnt with a certain degree of tiredness. Without realizing it, the clouds outside the pink palace began to swirl and stretch until rain poured from the sky. Each raindrop, tapping on the roof of the old mansion. This of course, was enough to make her drowsy. However, what she didn't know is that the time on her watch began to pitter and patter, speeding up in an odd and unnoticeable way.
The rain seemed to be in sync with every click and clack of the minutes and seconds until everything became still. Absolutely still. The temperature of the air seemed to drop as even the creaks and crannies of the house came to a screeching halt. It became silent. Too silent... As if the world itself had stopped moving, everything was as hazy as a dream. Slowly, her mind realized something was different. It awoke her soul as well as sent her father's snores to rest. The next thing she knew, her eyes opened and awoke to a small minuscule sound that rang through her ears.
"Squeak! Squeak Squeak!"