Dreaming up realities that never existed, lying to yourself, and convincing the people around you that you can INDEED ignore the problem is the Harmon family way. How easy one can do that when you are the maker of your own tragedy. How distant everything becomes, how silent and faded. It becomes an old photograph, trapped in the walls of your mind never to be recovered. Violet was not exempt from such tendencies. As much as she wished that she'd been genetically different from her parents, she wasn't. Not truly. Though she didn't inherit her mother's strawberry blonde locks, Violet was gifted her fiery defiance and hot temper. Even though she hadn't been blessed with her father's icy blue eyes, she had been given his weakness of flesh, his selfishness, and self destructive thoughts. What goodness did she inherit? Where in her veins, pumping with her blood, are the virtues she used to be so sure her parents possessed? From the quietness of her room, in the dark corners, the response is silence. She has her answer. So she remains trapped away in her room, her own private hell of moral-decay and disintegration. But if she waits long enough, he will always come along to save her.

'Tonight is the night I finally do it' is what she always thinks to herself when she locks the door to her room and turns off the light. She crawls languidly onto the bed and lights up her Marlboro cigarette while staring at her wrists and she knows he's watching her. She feels him. She wonders if ghosts can transmit thoughts, and she wonders if Tate will receive hers once she's dead. Violet gives the darkness a sad smile as she puts out her cigarette on her bedpost and throws the butt under the bed. She begins to undress until she's just in her lilac panties, and she whispers his name. She lies back down against her pillow and takes the blade from her nightstand drawer. She traces the tip up and down her arms, and shuts her eyes to the world. She feels the coldness of the metal, the temptation to just sink it into her snow white skin and end it all, and be with him finally. Then she feels him, first as soft as butterfly kisses against her nose. Then the sensation becomes stronger, more concrete. She feels a tug at her panty-line, strong lips against her own, and hands on her hip. She feels the curls of hair on the sides of her face and the weight of his body against hers. She can feel fingers curl around her hands, feel him him open her fist, and hears the blade fall next to her bed. Yes, he's here. And she feels like repeating it over and over again, he's here, he's here! For the first time in weeks her heart is beating as if it's actually beating and it's glorious and real, just like he is. Her eyes open and as quickly as they do he's gone.

After the awful occurrences that took place in their LA home between August and December of 2012, the Harmons collapsed in on themselves in a rather bittersweet climax. The twins were born 2 months premature, while Vivien was still committed. They had been born away from the house, and so their birth was not tainted by the evil they were so destined to bring. As soon as the babies were born, Vivien was released back into a world full of death and decay, with a rosebud-cheeked infant in each arm. She proceeded to leave from the institution and rented a minivan. She began driving east, and didn't come back. These babies came from sadness, pain, and fear. But Vivien would be damned if they were raised in it too. Her purpose was simple; return to Boston, stay with her mother, and raise her family anew. She still loved Ben and Violet, of course. With all her heart, she loved them. However, the hurt that she felt when she had looked into her daughter's knowing eyes was too much for Viv. Violet was more like her father than she'd care to admit.

So it was established. Violet and Ben stayed in Murder House. They both had little left to live for, and every day the little energy they had left for life was diminishing. Ben often went out drinking, leaving Violet alone in the house to get better acquainted with its inhabitants. She knew them all. She was pretty sure. One ghost in particular was gone though. The love of her life, tragically cut short by his discovery of death. She often stayed up chain-smoking, researching poetry and birds just to feel close to him still. She tried anything to forget how she lost him.


One Month Prior

It was a quiet night in the house, Ben had gotten home shit-faced as per usual and Violet was falling asleep to the sound of The Smiths. Her mind was slowing down, to almost a total stop when she felt a presence in the room. Tate, her Tate. He had appeared at the foot of her bed, with a soft smile and those gleaming dark eyes of his, so warm and big. She smiled back and motioned lazily for him to crawl in bed with her. He nestled against her, spooning her delicate form in the vices of his arms. She felt safe here, she felt loved. She WAS loved. Here she would talk and talk about everything without feeling judged. She spoke about how she missed her mother, about how she's never met her brother and sister, about the contempt she held for her father. She confided in him her worries about ending up like them, her parents. Her biological fear only boosted by the recent events of the family schism.

Tate's response was always short, knowing that Violet just needed to vent. She didn't want advice, she wanted acceptance and belonging. He was more than willing to had made love, in the sweet, slow way they tended to make love as of late. Violet needed that tenderness, those sweet kisses on her neck and in between her legs. She craved those soft fingers over her breasts, his mouth on her mouth, those sweet languid thrusts that filled her up to the brim with longing. Afterwards they would stare at each other, beautiful face towards beautiful face, nothing left unclear in between them. This is what they wanted; each other. All they needed was there on the bed with the other.

Tate brushed Violet's blonde hair, and tucked it behind her ear. All she could see was love in his eyes. Yes, this is true beauty.

"I don't think I'd survive if you ever left, not now." she whispered

"Do you think I could, Vi? I wouldn't want to exist, I wouldn't be able to even think without you."

"I'm so scared. Everyday I feel less and less solid, like I might go disappear if I'm not careful, if I'm not grounded…"

She looked at him, beginning to shake. When did she become such a coward? She used to be so strong. This house leeched it off her, she knew.

"I will always keep you grounded. Whenever you feel like you're floating away, I'm going to catch you and pull you back down." He smiled as he spoke.

"I don't think I can love you more than I do now, Tate. It's almost too much. I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to feel this. Like, what right do I have to be this happy? I am so imperfect, so contaminated."

"What are you talking about, Vi?" Tate sat up and stared at her dark, conflicted eyes "I am the happiest person on the planet because of you. I need no heaven, I need you. How can you not deserve the love that is so freely given to you? You deserve this, just like I deserve you. That's what I've come to realize, Violet. You are more than just my saving grace. You are my second life. You are my reset button. I love you. I love you a million times over," he kissed her nose "and over" he kissed her neck "and over." and he kissed her lips. He pulled back and watched her face. The sweet movements and changes and loving stares.

She couldn't stand it, she cupped his face and brought his face to hers, and kissed him with all the force she felt. Their nude bodies intertwined once more, as they became one for the second time that night.

When she awoke in the morning, Tate was gone. Violet thought that was unusual, he always stayed until she stirred. Maybe something came up, she told herself. He never leaves without saying goodbye, not since Violet's breakable disposition surfaced. He'd been more than careful to keep her from feeling alone. Violet searched downstairs, the basement, the attic, running into several 'others' on the way but none of them being Tate. By midday, she began to feel on edge. Where was he? Why hasn't he appeared to her? She's been calling for him all morning. Her eyes watered and she became desperate. She was screaming his name up and down the halls of the evil home, the creaks of the floorboard sounded like taunting giggles.

"TATE! TATE, WHERE ARE YOU? TATE!"

"Shut the fuck up, girl, I can hardly hear myself think with you screaming out that little psycho's name and running around the house like some depraved rodent."

Violet turned around, eyes red and desperate. When she saw who it was, her heart sank and her fear resurfaced as anger.

"What the fuck do you want, Hayden? I suggest you get the fuck out of my way. Aren't you supposed to be trying to fuck my pathetic father or some bullshit like that? I'm busy and don't need your slutty ass keeping me."

"Oh dear, you don't know." Hayden smirked, her tone condescending and vile.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Nothing, only that your little boy blue has crossed over."

"Right, ok, shut the fuck up. Seriously, stop feeding me all this bullshit and beat it."

"I'm not lying, sweetheart. He crossed over. The house knows, I know, now you know too."

Violet felt a hand constricting itself around her heart. No, she has to be lying. 'She just wants to see you squirm' Violet thought to herself.

"Look, I'm tired, and I need to find Tate."

"Good luck with that one, honey, he's passed on." Hayden said, loudly now "His wish in life has been completed. He's been truly, deeply, madly loved…by you." Hayden's smirk got wider with every word "He had no reason left to stay, his second chance in love and life was fulfilled by you, his precious nightingale. You should have seen his face, he had no idea what was going on."

Violet stayed quiet. She couldn't find her voice to speak. She still didn't want to accept it, there was just no way. She couldn't. She ran past Hayden and down to the kitchen to find Moira. Violet saw her drying the dishes with a washcloth, her red curls neat and pinned, her clothes never dirtied.

"Moira, Hayden just told me Tate's passed on. Tell me it's not true, tell me he's just been entertained, or-or something. He's still here though, right? Moira?"

The older woman stopped drying the dishes, and looked up at Violet with sympathy, her milky eye shining with something that could have been more than just a trick of the light.

"Miss Harmon, I'm afraid the girl is correct. It happened early this morning. He's fulfilled what he was left here to do, the evil in him had been cleansed. I'm so sorry, Miss." Moira looked back down at the dishes and continued drying.

At these words, Violet felt a tremor in her soul. A violent shake took over her, and she didn't feel herself falling to the ground. She didn't realize when her knees met the floor, or when she folded in on herself and blacked out.


So now here she is. Violet Harmon, the outline and fill-out of her parent's mistaken union. It's been over a month since Tate crossed over, but it's as if it happened an hour ago. Violet's in her room, where she always is. She misses him, oh, does she miss him. Her eyes are red-rimmed and tired. She is sketching a sparrow and a hummingbird when she hears her father stumbling up the stairs. She hears Moira telling him he needs to be more careful, to drink less. Violet laughs bitterly, as if he'd listen. She hears the door of his bedroom shut and she hears Moira walk back down the stairs, and soon hears those footsteps disappear as well. She's developed a fear of checking the clock. Something about realizing how fast the time passes makes her want to kill herself. Literally. How can she survive like this? She can't. She'd told him she couldn't.

She stretches out on her bed, in just her shorts and black long-sleeved T-shirt. Her eyes are blurry form sleep-deprivation and they sting in the corners. She thinks about how he left her. How maybe, it was his choice. She doesn't know how those things worked, for all she knew that's what he did.

'But he had said he'd never leave…" she thought, eyes closing.

The only way to see him again, was in death.


"Violet, I know you father has been preoccupied lately but that's no excuse to keep missing school. You still have a future outside of LA, you know. Maybe when you finally go away to college, no, IF you go to college, then you can move on with your life too."

"Mom, I know this is hard for you to understand, but I don't want to move on. Ok? I don't want to go back to school, I don't want to go to college, I want to stay right here, with this house. Besides, I think never seeing you again or those two bastard children is more than enough reason to never go outside of LA."

There is a pause on the other end of the phone, and Violet begins to play with the rubber chord of the phone, wondering if maybe she shouldn't have said what she did.

"You know…I had to do what I had to do, Vi. The babies deserve better. I deserve better."

"And what about me? You strand me here with the adulterer of the century and then poof! There you go, off to Boston. I guess I deserve the worst, huh?"

"After the lies, and what you and your father put me through, I think the least I could do was move far away. You both made it clear to me where I am on your list of priorities."

Violet swallows, tears heavy on her eyes as she remembers what happened almost 6 month ago. Why she did it. For Tate, who left her too.

"Mom, I'm going to go now. Bye."

Violet clicks the phone down, realizing she hadn't even asked her mother the names of her brother and sister.

He watches her, softly fingering her strands of hair. She never notices when he's around. He comes often, to see her, to feel her. He likes to watch her undress, likes to watch her facial expressions when she touches herself. He hates how she cries when she comes, how the tears come hot down her cheeks. He wants her back, on the other side with him. But he'll have to wait. He can't let her die like he did, can't let her cause her own demise. He keeps watch every night, to make sure the blade never reaches to close to her vein, to make sure she's still blossoming with life. There is no heaven but her.

To be continued.

A/N- First fanfic ever, for my favorite show ever :-) Ok, so I am totally open to good constructive criticism. Also, if you enjoy it let me know. This first chapter is a little slow and monotone because it's just the beginning and needs to establish some things, but other than that I hope you all enjoy!- Bryndis