Set in a parallel universe.
She was beautiful.
Not just the typical blonde haired cliche hollywood type, but more of the small set of unique yet exquisite face features. To others, she looked average. Nothing about her physical appearance made her attractive but to Tate Langdon, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
The way her long dirty blonde hair cascaded gently down her backside, swaying as she walked made her seem so young, innocence yet full of character and depth. Her down to heart smile sent Tate vibes of positiveness and happiness with an undertone of sadness.
He was entranced by her.
It had been almost 10 years since Tate had been shot in his old room upstairs, in 1994. He could still remember the loud sounds of footsteps that echoed loudly in the house, causing chills to slide down his backside.
After his death, Constance and Adelaide, had packed up their belongings and moved into the house next door. Constance remembered hearing how she hated this house with a passion she couldn't bare it anymore. The house had been empty ever since.
Of course on Halloween, when some rebellious kids decide to explore the empty murder house, most of them died. Tate didn't like it but Hayden, Travis' girlfriend apparently did. She killed almost every living thing that set foot on the property, just so she wouldn't have to be bored anymore. Tate could sense how much she missed being alive. He could see it in the way she carried herself, acting all snob and prude to the other ghosts when in reality, she was living the worst nightmare.
So imagine Tate's surprise when the Harmon's moved in. He had promised himself that he wouldn't harm the family. He wanted company, not the other ghosts but new living humans. He enjoyed watching their everyday life, watching as they took their each own part. Vivian, the mother would always be in the kitchen or her patio (one they had decorated along with a pool) sipping tea or gossiping with Moira, whereas the father, Ben would stay in his study all day or in his room jerking off to the thought of Moira.
But whereas with Violet, he watched her the most. He remembered the first time he had ever met her. Violet was 9 years old. He remembered laying eyes on her, a young thin girl bouncing up and down as she ran around the house every night with her lanky arms, hanging beside her awkwardly. Tate couldn't help but think of her as a young naive stupid little girl, watching her dress up in her mothers clothes while she painted her face with Vivian's makeup.
He wasn't sure what it was about her that made him feel more socially connected to her. Maybe it was the uncanny resemblance he saw in her, even when she was young. She looked exactly like Tate's first and only love when he was alive, Zoe Benson.
She was perfect, Tate could remember as he replayed every moment they shared together in his head. He thought about their first kiss to their first date, hell even to her first time. Then he remembered how everything went downhill, causing him to loose his way. But the weird thing was, despite looking exactly like his ex girlfriend, Violet had a completely different personality compared to Zoe.
Violet, as she grew, became more like him. Attracted to the darkness, enjoyed listening to Kurt Cobain and liked to read books about birds, or other things that normal people found boring. He was pleasurably entertained with her weird quirky habits but it wasn't that, that Tate found more confusing yet so intriguing. When Violet turned 16, she began to cut almost everyday. She cut her wrists every night quietly sobbing as she made jagged lines. Tate cringed, the blade that cut her perfect pressed skin oozed out of blood and all he wanted to do was hold her tight. It felt like his dead heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he watched his beautiful flower cry and be in pain.
Tate remembered that day as clear as if it was imprinted tight in his head. He remembered as the harder his heart ached, the more confused he felt. He immediately ran down into the basement and hid down their for weeks, left alone with his thoughts. Violet, Violet.. That was what ran in his mind all night and day.
He was confused. Why was his heart throbbing with so many emotions? Why did he feel the need to comfort her? She had cut herself so many times before that by why was this time any different? He shouted and cursed out loud as he punched the wall and his head so hard with confusion, he died once again.
This time when he woke up, Tate had realised something.
He loved her.
He loved every little tiny flaw about her. He couldn't seem to pinpoint the beginning of where his feelings came from, but after that night, he vowed to protect her.
And so he would.