Little Girl in The Bathroom

Horror Stories - Little Girl in The Bathroom

I lived in a house from hell for four years. From age eleven to almost sixteen. There was always something happening. Doors flying open and shut, voices, footsteps. Nothing ever stayed where you put it. I was alone alot because both my parents worked and I was constantly terrified. One of the most gut-disturbing things though was the girl in my bathroom. Everytime I walked by my bathroom (which was constantly since it was right outside my bedroom) I saw a little girl with blonde curled hair and a rose colored dress. She just stood there, staring, looking like a photograph from 1905.

I started closing the door so I could walk but without seeing her, but she was always there when I opened it. Once I stepped in past her, I couldn't see her anymore but I could feel her there. I felt sorry for her, because she was stuck there, just like me, but probably forever.

As the years went by and things in the house continued to get worse, and she started seeming... Darker. I started feeling like she wasn't a little girl. I knew there was something ugly in the house and I felt like it was presenting this sympathetic figure to me. Then I started thinking I was losing my mind.

One day, when I was 14, I had a friend from out of town come stay with me for a week. I hadn't told her anything whatsoever about the house because I didn't think she would come if I did. Right after she got there, we were sitting in my room and she went to go to the bathroom. About a minute later, she came back in with a puzzled look on her face.

"So, there's a little girl in your bathroom?".

" Um, I, she hangs out in there. blonde hair?".

"Curls? Pink dress? yeah, you know that's not really a little girl, don't you?" I almost threw up.

I was so relieved and terrified and excited and ready to run out of that house screaming. She stopped using that bathroom the rest of the week and I used it as little as possible without pissing off my parents (who did not want to believe).

Eventually we moved out and I could not have been happier. I distanced myself from it mentally as much as I could. Then, when I was 18, I took a friend on a road trip, to gather a pack up a few things I had left at the house (My parents hadn't managed to sell the house and wouldn't for five years). The minute we got on the property my friend felt uncomfortable. When we came around the bend in the long, steep driveway, he went completely white.

I could tell something was wrong, but he kept insisting he was OK, so we got to work. After a while he asked to use the bathroom, and I directed him to mine. Not 20 seconds after he left, he came running back in, for breath and he slammed the door shut behind him. He started babbling on about a blonde little girl who really isn't a little girl.

All of a silent he went dead still, looked me in the eye, and said very solemnly " She isn't happy with you, you left, and you weren't supposed to". We threw whatever we could grab in two trips to my car ( after I walked him to another bathroom and waited outside the door) and got the hell out at top speed.