the movers came yesterday and cleared out everything. what’s left fits in my suitcase and a few old pieces of furniture set to be picked up on monday. luckily, my bed’s one of them—so i’ve got a place to sleep for now. but that’s about it.

and this house? it’s gotten really weird.

with everything gone, it doesn’t just feel empty—it feels haunted. not by ghosts, exactly… but by memories.

i swear, more than once, i’ve heard the click of high heels echoing down the hall. or the faint sound of a scream—one of those sharp, desperate sounds from a punishment i probably deserved. sometimes it’s laughter. or a voice that sounds just enough like madam’s to make me freeze.

but when i check? nothing.

it’s like the house itself remembers what it used to be. all the rituals, the punishments, the service, the sex, the life. and now it’s all just shadows and echoes.

i can’t wait to leave. but part of me already misses it.