Ten hours and several trips to Goodwill later, we finished cleaning out the manor. My grandparents were never hoarders, but it’s easy to accumulate trinkets and items you think you’ll need but never do. After Nana died, my mom went through the entire house and either sold or donated most of the things in here. Otherwise, it could’ve taken weeks, if not months. “Don’t be, Pll be fine,” I say. It took me the better part of the day, but after downing a few more mixed drinks, I got up enough courage to tell Daya about the whiskey glass. It would be wrong to hide that someone came into my house while she was in it. It wouldn’t be fair not to give her the option to leave. She freaked, of course, and then spent the rest of the day trying to convince me to stay at her place. I won’t budge. I’m tired of people attempting to run me out of this house. First my parents, namely my mother, and now some sick fucker who gets off on being a creep. I’m scared, but I’m also stupid. So, I’m not leaving. Honestly, I was surprised Daya stuck it out in the manor. Her eyes were shifty, and she probably said the phrase what was that noise? a few thousand times. But we haven’t had an incident since. Now she lingers at my door, refusing to leave me here alone. “Let me stay with you,” she says again for the millionth time. “No. I’m not putting you in danger.” She snaps her fingers at me, anger flashing in her green eyes. “See, that right there. That’s a fucking problem. If you consider me in danger if I stayed here, then what does that make you?” I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off. “In danger! That makes you in danger too, Addie. Why would you stay here?” I sigh and rub my hand down my face, growing frustrated. It’s not Daya’s fault. I'd be freaking the hell out and questioning her sanity too if roles were reversed. But I refuse to run. I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m letting them win. I’ve only been back in Parsons Manor for a week, and already I’m being pushed out of it. I can’t explain why I have the need to stick it out. Test this mystery person. Challenge them and show them I’m not scared of them. Though thats a big fat fucking lie. I’m absolutely terrified. However, I’m just as stubborn. And as already established—stupid, too. But I can’t find it in me to care right now. Ask me later when they’re standing over my bed watching me sleep, I'll feel differently, I’m sure.