My breath was ragged with excitement as I starred up at my new home. The stained glass windows shone with the bright light from the moon and the ivy slowly crawling up the side of the old brick took shape in the shadows.

Murder House

It was hauntingly beautiful. How anyone could not love this house at first glance baffled me.

Then again. You always did have a soft spot for the crazy shit. Or should I say one crazy little shit in particular

I chuckled at my own thoughts, I had been studying this house for years, I knew every headline, every murder. I knew them all by name. Especially one in particular.. Tate Langdon. Sixteen years old, shot dead in his upstairs bedroom by a S.W.A.T team after murdering a few of his classmates at Westfield High.

I hoped against everything that the rumors were true, that the dead still haunted the beautiful Victorian halls. I had to see him.. Just a glance.. I had to.

With a smile I locked my car and headed up the sidewalk to the house. Fitting my key into the lock in the door and hearing the satisfying click as it unlocked. I swung open the door, my black combat boots made a thud against the old, creeky wood floors as I stepped in. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. The air was stale, lifeless from sitting emtpy for so long. It had been six years since the death of the Harmon's and since then the house had been bought and sold three times. The owners never stayed more then a night.

I looked down as my phone let out a loud DROID! Letting me know I had received a text. I swiped my password in and opened the message.

'Just got off the phone with the moving company, truck won't be there till morning. Call if you need anything. Love you! :)'

I huffed, muttering just great under my breath as I typed out a quick reply to my mom. She had been hesitant about me moving out here at first, after all California was all the way on the other side of the country. Of course when I brought up possibly buying the infamous "Murder House" she just rolled her bright green eyes. My mom didn't believe a lick of the supernatural.

"Everything can be explained if you think about it. Creeky boards, the wind, a house settling. Everything can be explained with rational thought" she would always say every time I brought up something that questioned the line between real and imaginary.

I was gonna miss my mom and my hometown in Virginia, the air was cleaner there, smoother. I was gonna miss the mountains most of all, and the rain. Nothing could help me sleep as well as a big thunderstorm could.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts I kicked my shoes off in the hall. Padding in just sock clad feet into the living room, and plopping myself down on the warn, black leather couch. The house came fully furnished - a gift from the last owners. I begun the tedious task of wiggling myself out of my skintight, black skinny jeans. Grunting as I struggled to get them off, I tugged especially hard and knocked myself off the couch. I let out an oomph! as I landed hard on my back, my jeans tangled around my ankles.

"Fucking hell" I whispered to myself, kicking my jeans off the rest of the way. I stood back up, fixing my red boyshorts were they had ridden up from wearing jeans. Hell if I was sleeping in those babies, all my clothes were in the moving truck because I'm a fucking idiot that forgets to put her clothes box in the car.

I threw my jeans onto the couch before making my way up the old Victorian staircase, my fingers twirling up the handrail. This house was truly breathtaking. I stopped dead (no pun intended) on the last step at the top, when i felt a soft pressure against my back, like someone was tracing my spine through my ripped black sweater. A pleasant shiver coursing through me. I chanced a look behind me, peaking through the curtains of my long, dark black hair.

Please be him. Please be him.

Nothing.

I sighed, disappointed as I continued up the last step. Tracing the walls with my fingertips as I expertly maneuvered through the old, creeky halls. I knew this house like it was my own long before it ever was. I knew which room I was looking for and I knew exactly where it was.

"Bingo" I whispered, placing my hand on the cold metal doorknob. I was gentle opening it, like the door itself was precious. The pale blue walls were still the same, the chalkboard still hung in the same place. It was all the same. Except for the furniture, what was still here anyway. This room was surprisingly barren compared to the rest of the rooms. Only a mattress slid against the back wall, a dresser with a few knobs broken off, and a full length mirror with a crack in the corner remained. I didn't mind, it was perfect.

I smiled, twirling around the room like a little kid. I chewed on the ends of my sweater sleeve as I made my way over to the chalkboard. It was covered in a thin layer of dust and you could tell the years were starting to take it's toll on it. The frame was coming apart in a few places. I picked up a small piece of chalk that was left in the tray, pressing it against the board as I began to write. I stepped back, admiring my handy work with a small giggle.

Come play with me, Tate

Was scrawled across the board in beautiful, loopy cursive letters.

Only a second passed before I felt a cold, muscular chest press against my back. Delightfully cold hands laid against my stomach, just above the line of my underwear. I shivered in pleasure. His voice like silk against my ear.

"You called me.. So, let's play"

I moaned.

Had to leave you there ;) sorry. Now I know I'm shit at updating every story I have and I can't promise this one won't be the same but that's because my life has become crazy, my modeling career took off (I've been in 13 magazines including the cover of one as well as being the featured model in that issue) and I also met the love of my life! So yeah, things are nuts. With photoshoots and editing and finding time for my love it's hard to find time to write so bare with me. :) let me know what you think so far!