Aunt Hannah's Forbidden Room

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

Rachel had no choice but to spend a week at her aunt's house while her parents took a cruise for their anniversary. Aunt Hannah was a therapist, meaning that some of her fancy therapy words would "accidentally" make their way into everyday conversations. Knowing that her choice of words would be boring for a fifteen-year-old, Aunt Hannah gave her niece free range of the house to stay entertained.

"Feel free to use my hot tub or the TV room," she said. "Hell, summon demons in my bathroom. Just don't open the door down the hall from my room."

To her credit, Rachel steered clear of the other side of the hallway for three days. On the fourth day, however, everything changed when the contents of her purse spilled out and spread down the hall. A tube of cherry chapstick rolled up to the forbidden door. As Rachel lifted the tube with her fingertips, she heard a familiar sound coming from the other side of the door.

"I'm so worthless. I don't deserve anything in life."

Rachel gasped and dropped her chapstick so she could cover her mouth. Those very words were written in a diary that she had kept since she was thirteen. No one else knew about this.

"Rachel? What are you doing?" Aunt Hannah had silently entered the house from the garage. "Did you just open the door?"

"No, but I heard someone from the other side," Rachel replied as she caught her breath. "Would you please tell me why I heard someone that sounded just like me?"

"Rachel, you've made it clear that you find my therapist talk boring. Unless you're my patient, you don't get to know anything about that room."