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I clasped my hand around the cold handle. I felt my heartbeat speed up. It was beating so hard that it was as if it were trying to escape from my body. My body was shivering as if it knew something bad was going to happen. A small part of me was telling myself not to go in. Begging me not to. I had no idea why I was going in here. I guess my curiosity got to me. Why was it only me who could see the door? Was I really going crazy? I don't think so. Though, with everything going on lately I'm not sure. It all started when we moved here.

The word angry could not describe how I was feeling. No, I was furious. Why? My parents had just told me that we were moving houses which meant that I had to change schools and start over. My mother had called it a 'new beginning!' I was not happy about it at all. I had been going to Edison High School 3 years now so obviously I would be annoyed about leaving. I have friends there! We were moving far away which meant that I would rarely get to see them and let's be realistic; our friendship would probably fade and die. Sure, I would make new friends but I didn't want to lose the ones I already had. Besides I liked my teachers (go ahead call me a nerd I don't care) and didn't want new ones. What if they were really strict or couldn't teach properly? Ugh! Why did we have to move?! Also I was only told three months before we left which didn't give me a lot of time to spend with my friends. The last days had been unbearable. They were all crying and I was as well. We would keep in touch but it wouldn't be the same. My old life was gone.

I first saw the door when my family and I walked into the house. It immediately stood out to me because all of the doors were brown but this one. It was a sea green colour with intricate designs down the sides. I had asked my father what it for and he had just looked at me with a confused expression. Thinking back to it he must have thought I was mad. Or perhaps he thought I was just joking or something like that.

The next time I asked my mother hoping to get an answer but she had responded with "what are you talking about?" I had looked at her with an odd look on my face.

"The door you're standing right next to." She turned her head to look at the wall and then turned back to me. "There's nothing there honey." That's when I knew that something was wrong. I chuckled nervously, " yeah I know…I was just tricking you! Ha ha…" I walked away quickly but not before seeing her frown. That was a stupid thing to say. Everyone in movies says that when they're doing something suspicious and my mum is no idiot. She has seen enough films to know that I wasn't 'just tricking' her.

That night I hardly slept at all. I kept thinking about the door and about why I was the only one who could see it. Was I going mad? No, I couldn't be. Could I? What if I'm hallucinating and there really isn't anything there? But I couldn't tell anyone they would go to doctors and the doctors would tell me I'm crazy and I'd have to take pills or something like that. Truthfully I was just taking this from TV shows and movies; I had no idea what it would be like in real life. I was probably just overreacting. Of course there was a door there. I would even prove it to myself tomorrow and it will turn out that my parents were just joking about it not being there. I started to drift off to sleep.

There was nothing to worry about.

There was definitely something to worry about! I had come downstairs before school and as usual there was no-one downstairs yet. In my family there is always the same routine in the mornings. My alarm goes off at 6:20 but I usually get up before that so that I can turn off the alarm. Weird, I know. I have a sort of phobia of alarm clocks going off. It scares me and I really don't like the feeling it gives me. I don't mind though it makes me wake up earlier so that I can turn off the alarm before the horrible sound goes off. After turning off the alarm, or going through a mini heart attack because I haven't woken up in time to the alarm off, I grab the book I'm currently reading and read until about quarter to seven. Yes, I wake up early and read, I'm a nerd. And proud! Anyways then I get ready and playfully shout at my sister to hurry up because we walk to school together.

I just realised that I haven't mentioned my sister at all. We're really close but sometimes there are times when I feel her slipping away. I'm sure she feels the same way though because siblings always go through this when they become teenagers or in her case a pre-teen. She's great though, she really is. Now and then I am little jealous of her though. I have a theory that I'm the 'cursed' sibling. I say this because I have a much harder life than she does. I have glasses, she doesn't. I used to wear braces, she has perfect teeth. I have uncontrollable, curly brown hair whereas her hair could be described as chocolate brown and silky. I have no fashion sense and when I wear a random outfit it just looks dull but when she does it she looks good. She also has an amazing personality. She is so free and relaxed while I'm organised and socially awkward. You can't expect me to just think that's it's a coincidence. Honestly I find it very unfair. Don't get me wrong though, I do like the way I am but sometimes our emotions decide to be annoying and we end up envying others. Overall I do love my sister. We have a lot of things in common and have great times together.

After going downstairs I would make the pack lunches, eat breakfast whilst watching TV and wait for my sister to come. Then obviously we'll leave and go to school. Except this particular morning I had come downstairs a little earlier to reassure myself that the door was real. It didn't work. When I tried to touch the door it was as if I were a ghost; my hand went straight through it. I tried to walk through the door like ghosts on TV or movies do but that didn't work either. That's when I got really scared. And confused. It was too much too handle for a Monday morning. Especially since it happened to be my first day at my new school.

School. When I was younger I didn't mind going to school. Of course I hated doing work when I could've been at home watching TV or reading a book but when you're in primary school it isn't too bad. You won't know this however until you get to high school and then you'll be wondering why you ever hated primary school in the first place.

I guess year 7 and 8 aren't too bad but once you get to year 9 it's all about preparing yourself for GCSEs. Especially if you're in top sets for all your subjects like I am. Most of the kids in my classes have tutors and that helps them achieve high levels so for me, someone who doesn't have a tutor, it can be a bit of a struggle to stay in the top set. Well that's what I think anyway but it isn't the truth. I'm doing very well but for some strange reason some people tend to be too modest and always look for flaws in themselves. Why do we do that? We always look for something that has to be improved. We are never good enough for ourselves. For instance, once I got a high grade on a history test and rather than congratulate myself all I could think about was the fact that I had gotten one sub-level less. Not everyone is like this. Some do praise themselves but there are people, like myself, who want to be perfect but the sad fact is that you can't be. No-one is perfect. You can do amazing things in life but there will always be something that stops you from being 'perfect'. You just have to live with that.

I think my sister could tell that something was on my mind that morning because of the fact that I'm usually really bossy in the morning; playfully yelling at her to hurry up and power walking to school even though it's difficult for her to keep up with me. That morning however, I sat quietly eating my cereal and not laughing at the comedy that was on TV when I would normally be cracking up at the stupid jokes.

It was when we were walking to school, at a strangely slow pace, that she decided to question me on my odd behaviour. The conversation was a short one.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure; I've just got a big test today." I lied. I couldn't tell her about the door. She would think I'd gone mad!

"Okay."

My first day at school was very…weird? I can't quite describe it. I was very shaken at what had happened in the morning. I also didn't like the fact that I was starting a new school at the point in time where everyone already knows each other . I didn't know who to hang out with or what the teachers would be like. It scared me.

I've never liked change. Never understood it. Why did things even have to change? Wasn't everything already good enough? I was happy at my old school. With my friends and my teachers but then we had to move. Being the new kid was a lot of pressure. There were rumours going around about you before you've even stepped a foot into the building. 'I heard she's a nerd.' Or 'I hope she is hot.' Sometimes they were preposterous like 'I was told that she moved schools because she beat up some kid at her old school and got expelled.' It was outrageous! I shouldn't be judged on what I look like and they shouldn't be spreading such stupid rumours. I could tell that my first day wouldn't be a good one.

Surprisingly I proved myself wrong. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Apparently the boys thought I was hot and fit so they treated me kindly though I did not like the annoying encounters with some boys who, even though they saw it as a joke, acted quite perverted. What I mean is that every conversation had a mention of sex and things like that which I found quite disgusting. However I did expect the boys to be like that as we were 14 year old after all and that's what teenage boys are like.

The girls in my class were really nice. They were very helpful and made sure that I felt included. The day was so good that I almost forgot about the mysterious door.

Almost.

When I came home I was so happy that I walked straight past the door without giving it any thought. It was only when I walked past it to go upstairs to bed that I looked at it and started to think about it. Was I going mad? Should I have told someone? No. It had to be real.

That night I went down to test the door again and once again my hand went right through it. That's how the next week went; come downstairs in the morning and try the door. Before bed go and try the door. And repeat the next day. It never worked. I was never able to touch the door handle.

Until now.

I had often imagined what it would be like; the moment where I was able to touch the door. I had dreams of running my hand down the sides to feel the beautifully carved patterns. Opening the door to see a dead man hanging from the ceiling. What? I'm a very imaginative person. It took me ages to get the gruesome images out of my head.

I did not however expect to see an empty room. The walls were white and the floor was white. There were no windows which made it look like one of the rooms in the mental hospitals. I had no idea if that was what they really looked like but that was what TV portrayed them to be. Maybe it was some sort of sign from my brain telling me that I was going crazy. But then again if I'm crazy then why would I listen to my own brain because it would be crazy as well. Ugh! What is wrong with me?!

Frustrated, I slammed the door shut. I did apologise afterward though because I didn't want to damage such an elegant looking door. Great. I was talking to doors maybe I really was crazy.

I pondered over the empty room for a long time before something else happened. I carried on with my routine of checking the door twice every day in the hopes of finding something other than an empty room. At least I was able to actually open the door and go inside the room; it was better than just staring at it.

It had been a month and I had completely forgotten about the door. Well, not really. I still saw it every day but I didn't bother trying it. After two weeks of only seeing an empty room I decided that it wasn't important and stopped trying.

Life wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was…bearable. However I still felt lost. As if I didn't belong anywhere. I felt like an outsider; never really fitting in. At home I was just 'the older sister' and at school I was 'the quiet girl who rarely spoke.' It wasn't that I was a mute or anything I just wasn't very social. If you become a close friend of mine then you will know that I do speak a lot even if it is less than most people.

Sometimes I wondered why I was like this. I wanted to be a golden child and though I don't admit it I needed praise. I didn't like getting told off which made me a 'goody-two shoes' always doing the right thing. Even if it's just a teacher telling me that I should've used one page instead of two I would think about it for weeks and wish I could go back in time and fix it. I was a perfectionist. Everything had to be perfect. But no-one is perfect, something we are told all the time. That doesn't stop us from still wanting to be perfect.

There isn't much I can do though. I am who I am. The best I can do is not think about it and just live life.

I've told you about the background information and now we're back to the present.

I clasped my hand around the cold handle.

Okay first chapter done. What did you think? Please review, it would mean lot