Jasper was eleven when the voices started.
He walked the halls of his new home, dark shadows twisting and churning, following the child. 
"Jasper..."
"Jasper..."
"Jasper..."
He ignored them, examining his new home. 
After his mother left, the families main source of income was gone, forcing them to move, always to a smaller house, always downgrading. This particular house was located in the woods, with two bedrooms. Two bedrooms? But three people? Maybe Jasper would share a room with his brother. He smiled, liking the idea. He paused at the bedroom, his brothers, or maybe his own. Boxes were piled in the corner, Erik hadn't unpacked, Erik laid on the bed, a cigaret in hand. The small boy frowned, the cigaret was  green, or maybe it was brown?He had seen people smoking before, but weren't they orange and white? His brother looks relaxed, a dumb smile on his lips as he took another puff from the strange cigaret. Jasper carried on. 
Sudenly, a light voice drifted in the crisp air,
"Jasper..."
It whispered, voice like melted butter,
"Jasper, they're wicked..."
Jasper continued on, listening to the voices. The voices soothed him. The voices reminded Jasper of his mother. 
Mother.
Jasper, since she had left, had done everything he could to keep the image of her in his mind. He was told he looked just like her, same nose, same chin, and now, same hair. While it wasn't as long as he remembered her's to be, it was still similar, and he would continue to grow it. The boy smiled, the voices loved it, singing songs of happiness and acceptance. No one else accepted it. No one but his friends. Yes, his friends.
"Jasper..."
"Jasper..."
"Jasper!"
He jumped, the gentle voices replaced by a gruff, dangerous one. His father snarled, "What the hell are you doing! Go to your room!" Jasper looked down, quietly murmuring, "I... don't have a room." His father grinned, showing off his stained teeth, "Of course you do!" His father led him down the hall, into the kitchen. He stopped at a looming door. It was a rotten, dark wooden door, it frightened him. His father produced a rusted key from his pocket, shoving it into the hole, opening the door. It groaned in agony as it opened, clearly not wanting to show of its murky depths. "Well? Go on!" The man grabbed Jasper by the color of his shirt, shoving him through the door. He stumbled down the splintered steps, falling hard on his knees. The rough stone floor ripped the skin off, making him cry out in pain. But his father only laughed, shutting the door, closing him off from the real world. A second later, a loud click echoed throughout the room, the only sound in the pitch black room. Gingerly, Jasper got up, feeling his way to the wall, it took him a moment, but he found the light. Clicking it on, the room lit up, but only slightly. The bulb was located on the ceiling, uncovered and dim. Jasper frowned, afraid it would go off at any moment. But it didn't.
He studied the room, the walls were dirty, made from the kind of big, white brick you'd see at school, though it as instead a sad gray. He noticed his things next, a few boxes were thrown carelessly in, contents fallen out of a few. A dirty mattress sat in the corner, it was small, with only a flat pillow and a blanket, holes chewed through it by bugs. 
"Oh, oh that's new!" Jasper cried, seeing an old oak desk tucked in a corner. The previous owners must have left it. He pulled open a drawer, they had forgotten their things! He pulled the items out, examining them as if they were carefully wrapped presents that were tucked under a Christmas tree. Smiling, he found three spools of thread, a few needles, and a pair of new scissors. He put them back, closing the door quietly. As Jasper turned, he saw shadows jerk and run in the corner of his eyes. A shrill squeak made him jump and gasp, looking around quickly. A mouse raced from under the desk, it's long tail waving like a flag. "Roommates!" He laughed, noticing another in the corner, nibbling on a piece of forgotten fabric. Jasper circled the room, counting each mouse he found. he counted four, all brown except for one, the lasts' fur was as white as snow, red eyes watching his every move. Careful not to step on one, he sat down on the bed, whispering out, "I don't mind sharing, there's enough room for all five of us!" He watched them race back and forth for a moment, then decided they all needed names, "I'll name you Micky because your fur is darker, you Ricky because you're the smallest, and you will be Georgie because you're the biggest!" He paused on the last one, the names didn't mean anything, just quick names he thought of, but he needed a special name for the special one. After thinking for some time, he smiled, "I'll name you Angela." Of course, it screamed, or squeaked, elegance, perfect for the white mouse. 
He watched his new friends play, deciding he would wait to join. Everything was fine, Jasper was at ease, at least, until the voices came back. This time, they sounded sickly, unnatural and unnerving. 
"Jasper..." 
The voices spiraled together, whispering sweet sins into his ear. His smile faded, his eyes wondering over to the desk, locking onto the drawer. 
"I-I can't... they're my friends..."