AN: Hi everyone! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm really excited about his story. The setting is American Horror Story season one, Murder House, all in Violet's point of view. This is the first of many AHS fan fictions. Rated M because of language and sexual references/situations, just to be safe. I definitely might do a Parmiga fanfic or Kyle/Zoe one too someday. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter 1:

I trudged into the front door and threw my ivory bag in the corner of the mudroom. As usual, my head was sweating from the heat of my pork pie hat that I ever so ungracefully took off of my head and threw it with the rest of my shit. Thank God I had gotten through school- now I can quickly do a crap job on my homework to get it over with, and spend the rest of my day in paradise: blinds down, reading, and listening to all my best friends: Nirvana, Morrissey, the Kinks, and the Ramones, blast throughout my isolated room without a care in the world. My ankle-high floral dress softly grazed my calves as I walked through my soulless house, about to scamper up to my room and escape to my world, until I heard an awful sound. The noise made me cringe a little, and I decided to not be so damn ignorant and find out where the fucking wailing was coming from. I finally came across my mom, sobbing into her hands, looking like it was hardly able for her to stand.

"Mom?" I questioned, confused on what the hell was happening. Her weeping face looked up at mine, as my mom's trembling hands brushed firmly through her hair. Her eyes were full of pain and abandonment.

"What the hell is going on?" I spat, more clearly now.

"Where's dad?" I asked again, the volume of my voice increasing. She didn't answer. All she did was throw herself into my arms, like a helpless puppy. She continued sobbing as I sympathetically patted her on the back. At last, she calmed down. I arose and helped her onto the living room couch.

"Mom, what happened?" I questioned in a quiet tone. She began to explain.

~30 Minutes Later~

My mom doesn't deserve this. Nobody does. Especially after her brutal miscarriage. How much bad luck can one woman have? I'm going to fuck his shit up if it's the last thing I do. My heart pounded, full of rage. I loved my dad, of course I did. Maybe I was closer to my mom, yes, but that didn't mean I loved him any less. How could he fucking betray her like that? Especially when the slut he had the affair with could be young enough to be his own fucking daughter.

"Violet, please, calm down." He said. He talked to me with a slow paced and clear voice, goddamn, it sounded like how a teacher speaks to a mentally retarded 3 year old. Or maybe that's just how he talks to his patients. What a sick bastard, thinking he can go all psychologist on his own fucking family so we can be fixed, even though but he can't accept the fact that he broke it in the first place.

"I'm tired of your shit, Ben, pretending you're the all American dad with the perfect family, thinking you can get away with everything, maybe even screwing your own student while your wife is in the house!" I yelled sharply, a theoretical play in the words I enunciated. I must have looked like a fucking lunatic right there and then, my face red with fury. Tiny beads of tears danced down Ben's cheeks as he stared at me, with grief and remorse.

"Violet, please don't speak to your father that way." Ben ordered, his voice strict yet trembling with sorrow. Oh, so now the big fancy shrink is going third person in this disaster, just fucking fantastic. I rolled my eyes, and after a few awkward seconds, my mom started sobbing again. Same as my dad, except this time he reached out and tried to hug me. Hell no, he was going to hug me and we would all sob into one big family fucking hug and everything would be okay. No. It wasn't ever going to be okay.

"Get away from me." I ordered, throwing a full force of seriousness in my voice. I shoved his chest away from me. From now on, I would repel from him like a magnet. He cringed and his face formed into an ugly little wail of tears. My face was emotionless, no tears, no anger, nothing. I just stared at my two pathetic parents for a while, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

~A month later~

Los Angeles. Such a horrible disgusting place, where strippers and coke whores run free. I would literally give anything to be in the East Coast right now. I looked out the car window just to find more cars, sun, building, and roads. Nothing else. What a fucking prison, I can't imagine what school would be like.

"The light is different out here, it's softer." My mom said enthusiastically, looking around.

"It's called smog." I scoffed with disinterest. Hallie panted and looked around wildly, trying to imitate my mom.

"You should be excited Vi, you can stop sneaking cigarettes and start taking deep breaths." Ben encouraged. Who the fuck does he think he is? Is he trying to connect with me or some shit? Please, the very first chance I get, I'm escaping this hellhole. I was done with him already. I took off my gigantic crappy Walmart sunglasses and complained,

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"We're almost there" Ben assured.

"I need to go." I protested in a rather bitchy manner.

"Vi, it's a freeway. Really, where do you want me to pull over? Maybe the Honda next to us has a bathroom or something." Ben joked, although it wasn't even fucking funny.

"Bet if baby had to shit, you'd find somewhere." I bitched, again. Sure, it might sound rude but it was goddamn true.

"Really? Violet I hate that word, unless I'm saying it." Mom said.

"You know, I'm really glad we named you Violet, instead of our second choice." Ben stated, changing the subject.

"Which was?" I questioned firmly with great impatience for the answer.

"Sunshine." Mom answered, putting on her sunglasses. Ben chuckled like fucking Santa Claus as he drove. I giggled sarcastically, an obvious fake grin plastered on my face. Sunshine? What the hell were they thinking? And I thought Violet was bad. Violet, a pretty flower that everyone loves and cherishes. The irony, right?

"It's funny. Come on, you gotta admit it's funny." Ben teased. Then he fucking grabbed my mom's hand. He grabbed it like it was all sweet and romantic. Please, that's probably how he grabbed that Hayden girl's ass. I smirked when she pulled it away, losing grip. My mom wasn't stupid, she knew her boundaries. Why couldn't she just divorce him already?

~They arrive at the Murder House~

"I love it. Don't you love it hun? I-I mean it looks even better than it did online." Ben insisted with impression. Here we go with the shitty "All American Dad" act again.

"Yeah it's-It's interesting." Mom agreed. I stared at this mansion for a while. It was dusty, old, and snooty. It was like a palace for creepy dirt bags.

"Great. So we're the Addams Family now." I declared. This house was so not going to be one I would live in. No fucking way. I'm not going to shelter myself behind a reminder of my family's heartbreak and fail of a desperate thrive to become perfect once more. If Ben imagines me to be fucking Wednesday Addams, an iconic family daughter, helping her fancy father to protect the sweet family fortune, you can forget about it.

"Hey, crabby-pants, come here." Ben hollered. Crabby-pants? So he has pathetic nicknames for me too? Holy shit, I didn't know he was that desperate to look like an even bigger shrink than he actually is.

"What are you doing?" Mom asked, cradling Hallie in her arms.

"Isn't this place amazing?" Ben exclaimed. Of course it looks great in his mind. A big fancy mansion for a big fancy psychologist. It's almost disgusting to me how he tries so hard. A pudgy lady in her late 40s opened the door to the house, her voice fake and overly friendly. As "Marcy" or whatever her name was, babbled on about the house and it's unnecessary features, I looked around. On the inside, it was gloomy and vintage. The musk of glazed wood wafted in the air with a slight aroma of tobacco. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all. There was so much fucking space though, probably enough to fit, 20-something people living together in one house. There was something about this house, I could feel it. There was soul. It was desolate, yet it's presence was a whirlwind of diverse qualities about it. Forget the fucking space, I wanted to see my room.

"Tiffany fixtures!" Ben whispered excitingly, playfully shoving my arm. I smiled half heartedly and nodded, although I had no fucking idea what he was so excited about. As my parents toured on with Mrs. Marcy, professional real estate snooty bitch, I wandered off upstairs to a bedroom, not so big, not so small. The walls were plain dark blue, and there was a faint hole in one of the walls. The paint was cracked and chipped in several places, and the hardwood floors were dusty and creaky. I absolutely adored it, as far as adoring something goes for me. This would be my room, I could feel it. I could see me on the bed, blinds down, Morrissey singing into the nooks and crannies of this place. Out of everything I've seen in L.A., This was the best place here so far. I went downstairs into the kitchen to find Ben talking about family or some shit. Thanks Ben, for giving this bitch the impression that we're all perfect, just like you do with everyone else. Hallie barked suddenly, like there was an intruder in the house or something.

"Violet, honey would you go see where Hallie went? Thank you." Mom asked ignorantly. Fine. I guess I'll just do every fucking thing by myself thank you. I hobbled over to Hallie, yelping at some door.

"What are you yapping at?" I questioned with annoyance in my voice. I looked at the door she was barking at for a few seconds and decided to open it because why the fuck not. The door was locked. I tried opening it a couple more times but it wouldn't open. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, it opened with ease. This better not be some Coraline shit show or something with a magic fucking door. The door creaked eerily as I opened it. It was a basement. I stepped down the unstable steps into the rusty dark basement with old brick walls. This was pretty fucking cool, what can I say. I like dark stuff, it's like I'm attracted to the darkness If you want to make it all dramatic-like. I stepped up the creaky wooden stairs once more, and found the rest of the Brady Bunch In a large room.

"Murder-suicide." Marcy explained as I arrived with Hallie in my arms. Yes, I knew it. There was something special about this house, I knew it. The souls of the dead echoed throughout each room, hall, and piece of furniture in this place. I fucking loved it. This was a dream, a great miracle of dark demeanors right in front of our noses. There's no way in hell I'm not letting my parents buy this house.

"I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest couple. You never know I guess.." Marcy continued.

"That explains why it's half the price of any house in the neighborhood I guess." Ben said as I looked around even more. This house was great, I loved it, and it will be ours. As Marcy said something about having a nice mid-century ranch in the Valley, I decided to step in.

"Where did it happen?" I asked, intrigued.

"The basement." She replied. Even better. It was finally time to make my move.

"We'll take it." I declared. Done deal. My parents looked at me, confused, but I know, this is the right choice for the god forsaken Harmons. Maybe this move won't be so bad after all. I could learn to adjust in a murder house.

AN: And that's the end of the first chapter! I'm sorry it's so short, most of the chapters will be longer. Please give reviews, because I think we all know I need a little critique lol. I won't post the next chapter until I get enough reviews. Thanks for reading!