I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead. I knew that this was going to happen. In fact, I knew for three years that today, on my birthday, I was going to die. I didn't really believe it at first but as the day got closer I understood everything.

This whole thing started back three years ago. I had just turned thirteen and I wanted to start earning myself some money. After all, my parents wouldn't pay for everything I wanted anymore. The only job anyone would hire me for though was babysitting. This was probably a given, seeing as how young I was, so when someone offered me fifty dollars to clean their attic, I jumped at the chance. That was probably the worst decision of my life. RIght now I wouldn't be dead if I had just stuck to babysitting.

Mrs. Crick had always lived down the road ever since I could remember. SHe never left the house and she never let people in. My mother thought she was a lonely old woman who didn't