'My name is Polly Parsons I was twenty six years of age and not any older I would never see how I look when I'll turn twenty seven. My time here has been short, and I was the prettiest one inside this house.
My murder is my story.'

And so the sound of the rain outside hits. The glass of the stainless window as it pelts it with a little trinkled light water.
I sit down next to my desk and working on a page I kept writting down the same thing, that I was prettiest girl that ever lived inside this house.
My time was short lived it seemed like but to sum it up very shortly is that what lives outside is a dark reminder...