Three years I've been renting out my aunts' basement. It's spacious with a living room, bedroom and full bathroom. She had the floors redone when I moved in and I even got to choose the color of the walls. I am grateful to her for putting a roof over my head. However, for three years I have done nothing but want to move out. Today is finally that day.

The steps creak under me and I make my way down the last couple of stairs. My bare feet find the cold hardwood floor of the basement and I take in a deep breath of cold air. The basement is chillier than usual, but I chalk it up to the lack of furniture.

I maneuver around the stacks of boxes and make my way to the back bedroom. The double doors rumble as I slide them open and step into the room that I have spent so many sleepless nights in.

Blindly, I slide my hand along the wall until I find the light switch. The overhead light flickers to life barley brightening the room. This light has never needed a new bulb. It's really choosing right now to start going out? I've always made sure every room down here has a lot of light. I don't do darkness. Not down here.

I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, placing it down on a box so the light shines toward the ceiling. It's not much better, but it will do while I grab what I need. The movers will be coming tomorrow to pick up the boxes and deliver them to my new place. The only thing we have to take are the breakables we don't want anything happening to. I spy the framed pictures leaning against the far wall towards the left corner.

Before I can even move my feet a cold burst of air prickles the back of my neck. The hairs on my arms rise and my jaw clenches.

Breathe. Just breathe. Once I’m done here, I never have to come back.

A scuffling sound from behind me makes me pause. Ignore it. Heavy footsteps carry me over to the picture frames. My shaking hands reach out and scoop them up into my arms. Now all I have to do is turn around and head upstairs.

Turning around is the last thing I want to do.

I stand up straight and try to find my courage. I've dealt with this fear for three years. I can make it through a few more minutes. My phone light flickers off and kicks my adrenaline into high gear. Spinning around, I grab for my phone and fast walk out of the room and towards the stairs.

The lights in the bedroom and living room glow bright and for a moment I'm walking blind. A few frames slip out of my arms and clatter to the floor. I hurriedly bend to pick them up, but movement in the bedroom catches my eye. A little girl is standing in the center of the bedroom staring me down.

Nope.

I drop the rest if the frames onto the ground and sprint towards the stairs. "You can't leave me," the girls scream echos off the walls and I can feel her right behind me. I get three steps up before she grabs my ankle and pulls me down. My face smacks against the hard surface and the force makes me bite my tongue.

"You can't leave me," she repeats, and the lights all flicker off into pitch black. I crawl my way up the stairs and fight off her pulling and tugging on my legs and clothes.

Screams and crying blast my ears, but I finally make it to the top and I throw the door open. I slam it closed behind me and I take a moment to adjust to the daylight pouring in from the back screen door. My breathing is ragged and lean against the door to catch my breath.

My mom comes around the corner and gives me a puzzled look. "Did you find the frames?" I shake my head and breathe out a hysterical laugh. "No," I compose myself and stand up, "the movers can handle it from here." I take one last look at the basement door and the moving shadows at the gap at the bottom. Three years and I'm finally free.