Hi there! Who are you? Doesn't matter, really, I'm fucking starved for conversation. Come right in! You're here for the house, I reckon. I gotta break it to you, I'm not the real estate agent. And you're kind of late, I mean look, it's nighttime already.

You want the tour from me especially? That's an odd request but… okay. I can try, I guess.

You can put your coat wherever. You want a drink? Or a snack maybe? No? Okay, well, if you change your mind… Actually it doesn't matter, the fridge is empty anyways.

So, this here's a nice enough place. It's cheaper than it's ever been before so you really oughta buy it now. You should already know the basics—we have two upper floors, one kitchen and two bathrooms.

Do I come with the inventory? Stop it, you… Well, you're not so bad yourself.

Oh. You weren't flirting, were you? Well, that's awkward. I'm… so sorry.

To answer your question, I guess I do. I hope you're not disappointed now.

Ah, it's a long story, but I'll try to be quick if you really wanna know.

My parents kept on pressuring me to buy a house. They were all like, "You're thirty-five, you gotta settle down." And I'd finally found a partner for, like, the long run, so at least I wouldn't have to do it alone. So we got this place. I took on extra shifts because the purchase had drained us, but even so, things were looking sort of dire. At one point, I had to ask my mom to help us out, but she wouldn't. She said that anyone could pay for a home, her and Dad could, too, back when they were young! And we had better jobs than they did, so she told me I was simply bad with money. God, that was so embarrassing.

I started looking for a job with better pay, or at least something to earn a little extra on the side, but nothing good ever came up. There was this fast food chain where I'd work on a few Sundays though, but I didn't last long. It was a crappy job in itself, and on top of that, the manager really hated me. I couldn't have carried on there for the life of me.

My fiancé's an intensive care nurse, so he's always under a lot of pressure. I was the chill one in the relationship, you know. I was usually there to calm him down and just… provide a good atmosphere, basically. And now that I was just as stressed as him, it kind of started to click for the both of us that things weren't working out anymore. But now that we'd invested so much money into this place, our dream house, we felt like we had to keep soldiering on, I guess.

We started fighting a lot. At first, it was just these little arguments, but they kept escalating until we'd literally throw stuff at each other on a regular basis.

And then it all came to a head a couple months ago. We'd just found out I was pregnant a week prior, but I was obviously gonna keep on working for as long as I could. It really didn't fit into our schedule at all and neither of us wanted the baby—we knew we wouldn't be able to offer it a comfortable life anytime soon. But abortions are damned hard to get around here, so we were in a whole new load of trouble because of that. Anyways, I came home and my fiancé was already there. He'd apparently managed to fall down the stairs at the clinic, sprained his ankle something fierce and had to take a sick leave. Well… I don't know why, or if that's even legal for his boss to do, but it wouldn't be paid. Now, I know I should never have done that, but I totally blew up at him. Like it was all somehow his fault. Maybe it was hormones, maybe I was just being an asshole, I don't know.

So fiancé gets up, and he hobbles over to the cabinet, and before I even realize what's going on, he's already whipped out his handgun and bang. That was that. That's how I got here, and that's why the house is up for sale.

There. I hope I could offer sufficient entertainment. Care to see the garden? I can show you the spot where he buried me. Should be a shovel around there somewhere still, too… You wanna go dig me up?

Oh no, I'm just kidding. The cops already did that. My fiancé didn't finish the job either. He got so sad halfway through he had to stop.

In case you wanna meet him, too, he's up in the attic. That's where he hanged himself.

That reminds me, did I even mention our spacious attic to you? Lots of storage room. You could also turn it into a guest room or maybe a little arts studio if you're crafty…

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