Just a quick little intro before we begin: this is the first story in what will be the Misery series that will connect every single season of American Horror Story. This is Part I: the Murder House.
I will point this out now (and will again later on in the story) that Constance is clairvoyant. I firmly believe this is canon for she seemed to appear at just the right time and knew things immediately that someone couldn't possibly just know right off the bat (like being able to tell that Vivien was pregnant even though she wasn't showing at all). She also mentioned in the last episode that she was cousins with the Delongprees. Mimi Delongpree was once the Supreme of the coven.
There are no Harmons in this story. Sorry.
Updates will be slow until after the month of March.
PROLOGUE
1994
This wasn't supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. She was back in this house with her children and even though she was stuck with a man she did not love, Constance had been sure to make everything in her life was perfect again.
But fate had a different plan in mind and decided to play this cruel joke on her.
She could hear the sound of a woman crying and screaming. It took Constance a moment to realize that it was she who was the one screaming.
The SWAT team had barged into her house and marched into her son's bedroom. She tried following, pleading with them that he was just a boy and to leave him alone, tears of frustration beginning to build up and blur her vision.
"Tate!" she sobbed out and then she heard it: the sound of guns being fired. The mother felt herself fall back against a door of one of the many rooms in the house and she slowly sank to the floor, her tears finally spilling over and streaming down her face. Her perfect little boy was dead. They had killed the boy that was supposed to be her darling angel.
The world became silent. The men who had shot her child were talking but Constance tuned them out. She tuned everything out, willing herself to wake up from this god awful nightmare. There was no way this could be real. There was no way that Hell on Earth could be real. Yet here it was, right before her very eyes.
Constance brought a hand to her abdomen and her other hand to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Her throat was already sore from crying and screaming, the tears were unceasing, and all she could think about was that Tate was gone.
The woman looked down to the hand that rested on her stomach despite being unable to see clearly because of her blurred vision and she could not help but sneer in disgust at the very thought of this thing growing inside of her. She would bring into the world. But she would not raise it. She was done living in anguish because of her children: there was Beau who had been a suffering monster, Addie, who was far from pretty and smart and gave Constance such grief over trivial things, and now there was Tate who got himself killed.
Though they had all been children of hers and her deceased, cheating husband, Hugo, and this child was Larry's, Constance was not taking any chances. Besides, she never loved Larry. This child would become someone else's problem.
Constance was done.