It was that night I broke down in the middle of no where, but country farm lands.
I walked as far as I could get, and walked to a small, raggedy little farm house.
I decided to knock on the door a couple times before a old married couple answered.
I told them how I broke down, and they insisted I stay the night.
Hesitant, I said yes.
It was around 3.am, where I woke and needed to use the bathroom. I passed a locked door with creaking sounds followed behind it.
Nosey, I peeked under the door to see a young little girl in a rocking chair, facing the wall.
I came to the conclusion that she was either sleep walking, or was being punished by the married couple like a normal grand kid.
I used the bathroom and went to sleep.
It was around 4 this time, and I was extremely thirsty.
I passed the bedroom again, and once again wanted a peek.
I decided to peek through the keyhole, but all I saw was red.
Thinking it was a delightful paint job that accidentally coved the keyhole, I drank a glass of water and went to bed.
In the morning, I called someone to come pick me up and said my goodbyes and thank you to the young couple.
"Oh, and what a wonderful paint job you have in your daughters room."
They looked at me ominously. "Our daughter died years ago, was stabbed to death in five different places."
I looked shocked, remembering last night. "Yes, her shoulder, stomach, heart..." They began naming places I didn't want to hear, except the last one.
"... And her eye. She died with one, red, eye."
I flushed.
There was no paint job.
It was simply the little girl looking back at me.
