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Disclaimer: I only own my characters and ideas, not the show and characters from the American Horror Story.

Chapter 1

My fingers traced over the line that went from my left shoulder down to my back. My blue eyes stayed with it as I turned my back a fraction to get a better view of it in the bathroom mirror. At least it was only a scar, a healing one at that, and no more blood was coming out when the thin skin tissue broke at the slightest pressure. Right, I didn't have to wear a square white gauze bandage over it anymore.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips. Who was I kidding? I hated this scar and all it represented.

Turning away from the mirror in small pain and disgust, I pulled on my baggy pajama pants and t-shirt, hanging up the towel that had previously been wrapped around my body.

Three hard knocks on the bathroom door made me jump. "I'm almost done." I called through the wood.

It had been a long move yesterday and today only involved more unpacking and house cleaning. Tomorrow would be a repeat and the last day to get everything done since my dad wanted the house perfect by the end of this weekend. That way we can return back to a civilized routine. New job for him, new school for me.

"Don't take so long, Iris. In five minutes we're going across the street for dinner. The folks over there were neighborly and invited us." My dad's deep voice said through the door.

That made me stop and frown. We just got here, how is it that he is already making acquaintances with the neighbors? Then he pesters me about hurrying to clean, he's over there socializing. But I wouldn't confront him about such a complaint. He's the parent, I'm the child. That's what he would say, it's always his excuse. A legitimate one, nonetheless.

I grabbed my dirty clothes and unlocked the door, pushing it open back all the way. It was the way all the doors in this house were to be-kept open at all times. Except my dad's. He could close his because it's his house and just another rule for me to follow.

"I didn't know we were going anywhere. It's close to eight already and I dressed to go to sleep." I told him, which was all true.

My dad nodded. He had a stack of picture frames in his hands, a small nail box on top of that, and a hammer in the other. He was probably going to set those up along the white wall and up the staircase, like they had been in our old house in Connecticut. "I know, honey. Just throw something else on. It's only dinner and I didn't get to order anything. They were quite nice to invite us over anyway."

I watched him go into his room only several feet down the hall we were in. He set all the frames on his bed and the tools to put them where he wanted beside that. "I can cook something." I offered. It wasn't that I was too lazy to change, I just didn't want to go anywhere.

My dad chuckled as he walked back over to me. "You don't have to do that. Besides, all the kitchen essentials have yet to be unpacked. We have to get that all out of the boxes tomorrow." He told, opening the hallway closet and taking out his jacket. "Come on, this'll be good for us."

I raised an eyebrow, going into my room only next door to the bathroom and a few feet from the foot of the stair. "What'll be good?" I paced my dirty clothes in my hamper, the personal one my dad thought to buy me so I could do my own laundry. His reason for it: I'm old enough for responsibility. As if I didn't have enough responsibility to maintain anyway.

My dad zipped up his jacket and stood outside my room door. "To socialize, Iris. New state, new town, we can make the best of it." He said. "I'll be waiting downstairs, okay?" Just as he reached the stairs to go down, he stopped and turned to me. "I mean, you don't have to change. You can go like that if you want." He chuckled and descended, leaving me there to frown at his back.

Jokes. My dad had jokes. There was nothing wrong with what I was wearing. It was completely comfortable. Okay, so they were the baggy clothes I used in the event I had to paint something, like the walls of our old house. There were turquoise streak stains all over my pants, but stood out more on my shirt. I shook my head. Just for that comment my father said, I should march over there in these clothes.

But no. I could at least try to look presentable.

So I did that in the most natural way I always did. I took off my pajama, leaving them messily on my bed that I had yet to put sheets and the thick quilt on, and pulled on a light pair of jeans with another solid t-shirt. Slipping on my sneakers, I took my black sweater from the closet and slipped it on just as I reached downstairs.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked my dad and laughed at the small tray of cookies he had in his hand.

"The grocery store. It's good manners to bring something over, remember that." He said, opening the door for me to walk out first.

I pocketed my hands in my sweater and followed him across the street to the house that was larger than ours. My blue eyes were on the windows, on the floors above the first one. Wow, it was grand. They must have paid a fortune. Rich, probably.

At the front door, I turned to my dad and smiled. "When did you even find the time to talk to these people?" That was what I really wanted to know.

He smiled and knocked on their large front door. "You know our lawn mower is broken. Ben, the owner of this house, saw me trying to attempt starting it up again. It didn't work, so he came over and asked if I wanted to use his. So I did."

I couldn't believe that was the story. I chuckled and shook my head.

"Don't laugh at me." My father said, knocking yet again on the door.

"That is so embarrassing, dad."

A moment after that, I stopped laughing because a woman with light wavy hair opened the door. She smiled at us, but more at me. "Hello, I'm Vivien Harmon. You two must be the new neighbors."