A/N: So I have NEVER written fanfiction before. This is just something I've had floating around in my mind for a while. It might suck, it might not. This is my first fictional thing, ever, so I have no clue what I'm doing. I don't really know where this is going either, but I hope you guys enjoy this short and shitty beginning to my idea of how Tate and Violet reconcile. I'll update it as often as I can! I know how it's gonna end, it's the part in the middle that has me lost. Reviews would make me happy. :)

The first thing I heard when I woke up on the first morning of 2013 was the sound of a moving truck rumbling up the street. Uggggh. Who even moves in somewhere on fucking New Years day? I swear, if this family is as boring as the last one, I'm going to kill myself every day, in front of them, just so they fucking leave. I don't remember the last time I wasn't bored. It must have been about a year ago, back when… Damn. My only resolution this year was that I wasn't going to think about him, but I guess I broke that resolution already. It's only been 2013 for what, 10 hours? I can't even go 10 hours without thinking about him. His eyes, his hair, his lips, his hands, his- No. Stop right there Violet.

"Stop what?" My mother's voice brought me back to my senses.

"Nothing, mom. Just thinking about sad stuff." Shit. I hoped she'd get that by sad stuff I meant him, and I doubly hoped that she wouldn't press the matter any further.

"Well, er, do you wanna talk about it?" Double shit. She knew exactly what I was talking about, and was trying to be "caring and motherly" about it. I guess that was her resolution for this year; try to pay attention to Violet, because it's not like she's dead and depressed and more alone than she ever was in life. What bullshit. If they'd paid attention to me when it really counted, when I was alive, maybe none of us would be here. Maybe I wouldn't be dead and neither would they and we could've gotten out of this hellhouse and I wouldn't be stuck here with my pyschotic ex boyfriend, who raped my mother and murdered 15 kids and Chad and Patrick. But no, now they choose to pay attention to me, when I'm dead and everything is without consequence, so what lessons do I even have to learn in life? "Vi?"

I rubbed my eyes with my palm and my mother came back into focus, looking down at me with concern. "Vi, honey? Are you okay?" she asked, her brow creased in concern.

I groaned inwardly at her prying. "Yes mom, I'm fine. Just tired. The new 'homeowners' are moving in today." I snickered. Nobody can own Murder House. You can buy it, sure, but you either die or leave within a year of moving in.

My mothers brow creased further. If she wasn't undead, she'd worry about getting wrinkles, but when you're forever 41, you don't have to worry about that. "I guess we'll have to get everyone together, plan some sort of terrifying show for them."

I knew by "everyone", Vivien meant all the other permanent residents except Angie, Margo, Hayden and him. They never involved my father's mistress in anything if they could help it, and his name was never even mentioned. It's like he never even existed. I hadn't seen him in almost a year. I knew he had talks with my dad sometimes, but what they talked about was a mystery to me, and it's not like Ben ever mentioned it to me. It's like they were trying to pretend, for me, that he wasn't the reason we're all stuck in this house, and that I didn't still love him and he didn't still love me. It disgusted me that I could still love him with all my heart after everything he'd done to me and my family. My insides started aching with want, and I knew I had to get rid of my mother so I could get off while imaging it was his fingers inside me, and then hate myself for it later.

"Yeah, I guess you do. I'm gonna shower and then I'll be down to help out, okay?" I pressed my thighs together to try and keep my voice from shaking.

"Okay sweetheart." Vivien beamed, kissed my forehead and vanished. Thank god. I can finally get off. My hand crept down into my underwear, and just as I was slipping my fingers inside, I heard someone breathe in shakily. I whipped my head around to see him. Sitting in the chair beside my bed, watching me intently.