When a teenage boy is moving his recently divorced mothers things out of his childhood home, he discovers a room hidden away behind closed doors. An old bedroom, resembling that of a child. Atop the dresser is an old dial phone, sitting in front of a large wall mirror. With bloody handprints on the drywall, and scratches on the floor by the bed. This is a story I am writing for fun, and to see if writing could possibly become a career path in the future. So please don't be too negative on the story, as I'm only new to writing on Wattpad. Uploads will more than likely be irregular. As I'm doing middle school full time, as well as extracurriculars and just life in general. BTW, I like writing with lots of twists and emotive language, so if you cry I will take that as a compliment. Some content may not be PG though I'm still in the early writing stages, and without an editor.