Another story based on invisibletardis' AU Meme and whydoikeeprunning's idea.

2008

When the Harmon family first moved into the infamous Murder House, they were a typical family with troubles. Ben seemed to be a normal husband, who had a normal job, and a normal wife and daughter. But looks can be deceiving; Ben had anger issues and when he had an ounce of alcohol in his system, he was horrible to Vivien and Violet.

One night when he had been drinking and was too weak to fight against the evil that existed in the house, he snapped. He took a butcher knife from the kitchen and snuck up the stairs where Vivien and Violet were sound asleep. He arrived at the door of the master bedroom and quietly walked in. He stared at his beautiful wife sleeping so soundly before raising the knife and slamming it into her abdomen. She woke up with the sudden surge of pain slicing through her and screamed.

Her eyes focused on Ben who was pulling the knife out of her, dripping in her blood. "Ben, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaking. He raised the knife above his head before plunging it into her chest. She clutched his arm as she fought with the pain; her breaths quickened before her grip on his arm eased up and her heart took its last beat.

Violet woke up from the sound of her mom's fearful screams; she arrived at the doorway just as Ben was pulling the knife from Vivien's dead body. "Dad!" she screamed. His head turned to face Violet; he never spoke a word as he walked around the bed towards Violet. Violet ran down the hallway to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She fought the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes; it was not the time to cry.

She screamed when she heard Ben throwing his shoulder into the door. She decided her only chance of survival was to go out the window; she was half way out the window when the door slammed against the wall and a hand grabbed her foot, pulling her back into the room. By this time, she had lost all control of her emotions. "Dad, please! Please don't," she cried. He wrapped his arm around her fighting body as he held the knife in the air; Violet's eyes widened as she continued to cry and try to plead with him. "Dad, it's me. You're little girl. Dad! Please, don't hurt me!"

Ben was too far gone to hear her pleas; she closed her eyes as she awaited her fate. He plunged the knife into her chest, right where his arm could feel her panicked heart racing. Violet fell to the floor after he pulled the knife out, leaving her still alive but nearing death. Her heart fought with all its might to keep pumping blood, but the wound was too deep that the blood went into her chest cavity and soon her heart gave out.

A month later; Ben was in jail for life, the news had finally calmed down, the house was on the market again, and Vivien and Violet were left to walk the house's halls for the rest of time.

2011

I hate moving. Tate complained in his head as he glared at his mother's grin. I hate you. He was walking around the Murder House while his mother talked to the realtor; he had a life and now he was being uprooted to stupid California, didn't they know about weather? It was always 60 degrees and higher, what about fall when the leaves changed? He had only been in the house a few minutes but he already knew he was going to hate it.

"This house is from the 1920s?" Constance asked Marcy.

Marcy nodded. "Why yes. It was built by a doctor to the stars and his family."

Tate rolled his eyes at their conversation. "Place looks like a goddamn horror show," he mumbled to himself. Constance gave one of those "please forgive my son and don't let his actions affect your opinion of me" smiles. "Did someone die in here?" he retorted.

Marcy bit her lip. "Well, full policy disclosure states that I need to tell you about the former tenants." She hated this part and every single time this house came on the market, the story was that much harder to tell. "In 2008 the family that lived here was brutally murdered. The husband snapped one night and slaughtered his wife and daughter."

"Oh my," Constance said as she held her hand to her chest. "That's horrible."

"Cool," Tate replied.

Constance motioned for Tate to go explore. He rolled his eyes and walked around the house, and out the back door. The yard was a decent size considering it was in the middle of LA. In the back, between two trees was a swing that was beginning to rust. He sat down on it and closed his eyes. He hated the constant woosh of the traffic and missed the quiet suburbia life he had back east. "Don't like it here?" a voice spoke, scaring him off the swing and on his butt. The voice snickered.

He opened his eyes to see a cute girl standing before him. "Who are you?"

She held out her hand. "Just a ghost of my former self wandering around this world aimlessly; but you can call me Violet."

He jumped up and brushed the dirt off his pants. "I'm Tate."

She nodded. "I know. Your mom is considering buying this place. I hope you don't mind the rumors that come with this house," she whispered.

He chuckled. "What? About the murder? Nah, every house has some past, right? This one just has a nasty one."

"I was referring to the rumor that it's haunted."

"Like ghosts?" Violet nodded. Tate scoffed. "Bullshit. You shouldn't believe everything you hear, you know?"

Violet giggled. "I've heard this house will make a believer out of anyone."

"Whatever. I'm not worried."

Violet smiled at his stupid confidence. "Well, I better get back. Let me know if you change your beliefs." She walked around him.

"Hey, wait," he said as he spun around to nothing. She was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged and walked back into the house just in time to hear his mother say, "We'll take it!" Tate sighed; this was going to be a long few months before he turned eighteen and left his mom behind him.