I have wanted to write this story for a while now but haven't really had the time.
When I was about 6 years old we moved into a housing commission house, right from the time I moved in there I knew there was something creepy about the place.
I am 13 now and have since found out that the people who used to live in the house had a daughter who was repeatedly raped by their next door neighbor; he used to give her speed intravenously so she would be awake all night and torture her to within an inch of her life. She ended up committing suicide, also that day someone gave the guy a hit of battery acid and he died.
Anyway, I remember always feeling uncomfortable like something was watching me; I wouldn't go up stairs if someone wouldn't come with me, and sometimes I would stay up all night scared out of my mind for no apparent reason.
In the room where my sister slept, someone had spray painted writing about the guy who had raped the girl who used to live there, it had been painted over about 50 times in the years we lived there but always seemed to seep back through the paint.
I used to hear what sounded like people walking around on the roof and I used to feel someone crawling up my bed and so did my mother sister, but my brother said he never felt that.
Once my mum told me that I went into sweats and started walking around the house throwing anything I could get my hands on... I still don't remember that.
I used to see big black shapes out of the corner of my eyes and when I would look back there would be nothing there. I would never open my curtains in my room and I used to hate going into my sisters bedroom, I would hate being alone in the house and would not go into the bathroom after it was dark.
We moved from there when I was 11 to a house in a different area, I felt comfortable there but sometimes my things would go missing. I also used to sleep with the radio on, and I know what station I listen to and never change it, the radio used to change over to a station that played old rock songs. I also remember that during Christmas holidays it was about 38*C for a week but would cool dramatically throughout the night so I used to sleep with no blankets, window open and a fan on. I woke up one night at about 4:00am with my window closed, fan off and blanket was back on me, when I asked my mum if it was her she said no, that it was still hot when she went to bed so didn't come into my room to turn the fan off.
There was also other things at different houses that I don't remember because I was pretty young, but I think this is really weird, it seems like every house my family has lived in after I was born had some sort of paranormal activity...
Thank you for reading my story and I feel free to share your thoughts
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