Title: Even in the shadows
Author: LucridLucifel
Genre: One shot, dark.
Rating: PG
Fandom: American Horror Story
A/N: Some VioletxTate bits going on here.
Summary: One moment the world is fine. The next the world is condensed in the realm of the haunted house. RubbermanxVivian.
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to American Horror Story, FX owns the rights, and I don't profit from this piece of fiction; it's purpose is for the sake of harmless entertainment only.
Even in the Shadows
"Life without love is a shadow of things that might be."
-Anonymous.
There was a moment in time Vivian was quite perplexed at the mysterious "happenings" in the new house. The feeling in the house is not at all normal.
Normal is a word that can be thrown up for interpretation. Normal in terms of the state of a home, as in refuge, shelter.
Normal houses don't have constant mysterious strangers pit and pattering throughout the night.
Normal houses don't have familiar and unfamiliar faces entering and leaving without notice.
The voices.
The voices whisper and echo throughout the house and there are times these unfamiliar voices speak to her.
There was this one time that woman Ben had an affair with appeared in her room. Threatening and telling her all these terrible things about Ben that crawled under her flesh.
All these random things were not a coincidence or an "illusion of her sick mind" as Ben Harmon's professional medical opinion suggested. It was not an illusion that the man in the rubber suit had his way with Vivian. It was-not-in-her-head.
The movement of objects which rearranged themselves at every given moment is not just mindless babble/a trick of the eyes/and or other string of excuses that she tells herself in her sheer denial. As Vivian strolls about, the dog is nowhere in sight.
She only resides in the kitchen where its less crazy. Even the dog can't tolerate most of the eerie atmosphere of the house. The maid is the only one that seems to care and shed light to the situation. It's nice to hear for once it's not all in her head.
It's nice for someone to actually give a damn. Why does it have to be just an old woman that doesn't know a world about her from the get-go to offer a kind word or two?
And when the world is quiet; the sounds of the dead fill the air. And then, the noise starts again, the noises whispering her name.
"Vivian."
Lost in her thoughts, she doesn't want to bother with Ben right now. Her husband is the last person she wants to give a damn about.
"Vivian," the voice demanded a bit harsher, once more.
She resists all urges to smack him with a pillow. She turns over and the pounding of blood against her ear and her heart's deafening beat drown everything out.
The blood drains from her face, she's pale as snow, and her body is numb and paralyzed with sheer, untainted fear.
The man in the rubber suit lays beside her, where Ben usually lays.
Vivian screams to the tops of her lungs and scrambles out to run for help, but the Rubber Man stops her.
Looming over the woman crippled with fear, the man in the rubber suit leans in close to her ear, "I'm here to stay."
Vivian wakes up with a start and looks around. She's drenched in sweat and decides to pour out her agonies and tears in a downpour of tears.
From the far distance in the hallway, a stoic penetrating presence steps away and the man in the rubber suit walks into Violet's room. Violet stirs and feels the dog shifting on the covers. The dog's growling wakes her up, drowsily she blinks the sleep out of her eyes and tries to focus her sight of vision on the tall, black figure. Eyes widening, Violet gasps in unexpected fear. Before her scream echoed throughout the quiet, dark house, the Rubber man's hand covers her mouth, muffling her screams.
Quickly, the rubber man peals off the black mask. Blonde messy hair spills over and the handsome, youthful face of her boyfriend is unveiled.
"Oh my god! Tate, you scared me half to death-why are you wearing that thing again? I thought I told you to stop wearing it. It creeps me out," said Violet, tired and agitated.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I can't seem to part with this suit, it seems," he calmly said, not at all the least bit apologetic. He grinned sardonically and smoothed over Violet's agitations with a simple, "You look really cute sleeping there under the covers."
Violet rolled her eyes, but gave in to his odd charms. "You can join me if you shed the suit for a T-shirt and pants."
"That's certainly an offer I'm beckoned to consider."
The next morning, as Vivian is rushed to the hospital once more for anxiety attacks, Violet is left to wonder how long this madness will continue to go on?
"Mom, get better soon. I'm here if you need anything," said Violet, worry marring her features.
It was the first time in a while Violet has openly expressed her feelings of genuine concern for her. It was touching and made the pain inside Vivian ease up a tiny bit.
"I hope I do get better. I want to be," Vivian replied to her daughter. Tate stood at the foot of the stairs, away from everyone, as she made her way to the doorway. Vivian stared at him for a brief moment and the jolt of panic stirred up out of nowhere.
Vivian Harmon's stay in the hospital shifted from minutes, hours to endless days on end. The reality of the situation at home was far too great a feat to tackle. How can she tackle a madness that isn't her own-or is it?
During intervals of the drug induced sleeps, Vivian's last clear set of recent recollections were of the moments she had left the house for momentary relief of her sanity-it was the odd grin on Tate's face. The callous, empty, unreadable eyes of that young man pierced right through her and incurred a tremendous fear in her that couldn't be explained.
Was she losing it?
Vivian didn't know at this rate.
All she could do was block out the worries at home and try not to dream of the dark forbidden touch of the Rubber Man.
The End.