The Basement

I think I will go area by area in this house, and tell you a few stories.
First, the basement.

Growing up, I spent 2 years living in the basement bedroom. I would wake up in the middle of the night, terrified, unable to move as if someone was holding me down. My sister and I have both heard voices, both of us have heard a baby cry, and both of us have seen human shaped shadows. My sister tried to stay in the basement bedroom; she didn’t even make it one night before moving back up stairs.
One afternoon I was downstairs taking a shower. I was the only one home, my sister was at our grandparent’s house, and my mom was at work. All of a sudden, a naked Barbie doll came flying over the shower door, hitting me in the head.
I jerked open the doors, but no one was there. I grabbed a towel and opened the bathroom door, but no one was in the next room, or going up the stairs.
Many times, I would go into my room and things were moved around.
Once after Rick and I got married, he was downstairs installing a new water heater. He put all his tools on top of the new water heater, and turned around to get something else. Seconds later, he turned back, and all his tools had been moved to the top of the old water heater.