I’m the fifteenth one.
Entry forty-seven: “Daddy is changing. He talks to the wall. He says the wall talks back. He says the wall’s name is DVAA-015. But that’s our house. Why is the house talking?” dvaa-015
Then, around page twenty, the drawings changed. I’m the fifteenth one
From somewhere deep below the foundation, a low, subsonic hum began. And the walls began to listen. around page twenty
“What’s this?” she asked, not looking up from her cold coffee.
The next ten pages were blank except for a single word repeated in tiny, desperate handwriting along the margins: listening listening listening listening listening listening.