Stuck. That's the best word to describe me. I'm stuck, and I can't get out.

I don't know how long I've been here. There's a sign outside the house that I can just see from the window, saying the house has been here for two hundred years. But I'm sure I haven't been here that long.

I can't remember anything.

I wish I did.

Sometimes people come to see the house, talking about the ghost, the spirit inside. I think they're talking about me. I'm not a ghost, though. I haven't died — or have I?

I can't remember.