Hear what? Millie whined, her hands on my hips nudging me backwards.

I really didn’t want to go backwards, towards where the noise had come from, call me superstitious but I just didn’t like tempting fate.

I removed my wandering hand from Millies dress, getting the look of disappointment joined by the pout of persuasion. The type of persuasion I was definitely a sucker for.

I heard something Mill.

She sighed, looking behind me with a squint as she couldn’t be bothered to move and take a closer look.

I don’t see anything. she said, matter-of-factly.

You didn’t even look properly.

She let go of me and went to turn the main light on; lavishing the entire room in light. I turned, the reflection of myself in a dressing table mirror startling me. Millie stood there for a moment, then held her hands up to the room.

See, no one but you and me.

I still didn’t feel comfortable, the portraits of a victorian lady hanging above me in a hierarchal position. Looking solemnly at me with lifeless eyes which sent chills through my body. There were several different pictures of her around the room, in all of them she wore the same expression of sadness and regret. I found it hard to brake her stare, there seemed to be a haunting familiarity about her. A deep sadness that I could connect with, as my gaze still lingered on her face another thud, this time coming very distinctly from the dressing table, echoed through the room. This time Millie jumped as well, seeing as something clearly moved on its own when neither of us was near it. As I made my way to the dressing table Millie came up behind me, planting a hand on the base of my back for support, or for her own assurance. I couldn’t believe it, was I actually experiencing Amelia Miller scared?

I picked up the silver picture frame which was face down on the table, putting it back up right. I leant in, looking at the couple posing for the picture in the frame. It was the same woman as in the other pictures around the room, yet she was smiling in this picture. Next to her sat a young man, probably wouldve been handsome if he hadn’t had quite so much facial hair. Not that I was interested in the male side of the gender species these days, but really, who came up with the idea that big bushy beards and curly moustaches looked good?