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It looked like an tourist attraction.
The whole town knew very well where they lived. It was the town's haunted house, the one that people speed up when they pass on the sidewalk, or the one that kids dare each other to touch at the gate and run out of.
Unlike in horror movies, that house wasn't haunted by ghosts, but by four people with no happiness who still lived there.
“Why did they live there? Why did they still let their daughter study in a public school? They should send her to boarding school before she becomes like her brother,” were the rumors that also haunted the house.
It was also haunted by graffiti on the white wall, capital letters saying “Scum Family” next to the stones used to break the windows. Pippa always wondered how they still lived there, how they still let their youngest go to a school full of bully teenagers. Exactly the same questions as everyone else in town, the difference was her tone of curiosity rather than judgment.
Pip knows a lot of things. She knows that octopuses have three hearts, she knows that bananas are radioactive, she knows that ants can lift 50 times their own weight, but she would never know how the Singhs still managed to live there.
It wasn't hot in Little Kilton, but the brunette could still feel the sweat on the back of her knees, her jeans making everything even hotter. Pippa walked through the gate feared by so many, analyzing the path of a few meters to the door. So close and so far away at the same time.
Braving all that trail, less than ten paces in fact, she reached the door of the house, her hand going up and down as she rethought the words in her head.
Finally, she knocked on the door, putting the weight of her body between her two legs and staring at her reflection in the window next to the wood - brown hair down to her shoulders, dark green eyes, skin as white as paper, looking ready for what was to come. She could hear soft footsteps on the wood, the person was probably wearing socks or slippers.
