"We would hear things, late at night. Always at the same time, around three in the morning." I could never sleep at night in that house. My wife said living in this historic house would open my eyes to the amazing history that this town lived. She was a junkie for that kind of stuff. Little did she know that that house would slowly drive me insane. The house would drag me down with it.

"What would you hear exactly Mr. Chavez?" I thought about it. Was it real or was it all a dream? Was I truly crazy? Maybe my doctor was right. I pictured my medications on the bathroom counter. In that house. They told me not to take them. They told me to follow them, they would medicate me with the truth about this wretched world we live in. The death and the rot.

"It began with whispers. Very soft, very faint. I couldn't exactly make out what they were saying. As the days went on that we stayed in that house, the things got louder and louder. Jasmine said she couldn't hear them. She's the one who sent me to the doctor, you see. Something inside me told me, though, that she could hear it. She just didn't want to face the truth about that house. She was too caught up in her historic fantasy to see what I did." My forehead began to sweat as images of the last night in that house ran through my head. The heat, the smoke, my lungs slowly collapsing as they had a grip on my neck. I couldn't breathe. They had Jasmine. They took her away.

"Now, what exactly happened that night Mr. Chavez? The night that killed your wife. The night that you say what, 'lives in infamy,' Mr. Chavez?" He stared at me like he was staring into my mind to get the exact pictures so he could put the puzzle together.

"They did it, not me." That was all I said. He didn't look to happy about that answer. He looked at me with pity and remorse, like I could never get better. That's when the voices started to come back. Staring low, then got loud.

"You know, Brandon, they're telling me something right now actually. If you still care to hear. My sanity isn't very clear, and I know that. Brandon, I think you're in danger here. In this place." He looked at me now with more curiosity than I had ever seen him with this whole session. He looked kind of nervous, worried maybe? He wanted to know. He started to sweat.

"They want you too Brandon." I say, very sternly. I look behind his head and see beautiful curtains hanging on beautifully placed windows. Then I see it, the spark. The light. The fire. The flames.