Chapter One:

THE HOLE IN THE WALL

"Where did it happen?"

Violet looked up at Marcy, the mousy real estate agent touring her family through the salmon colored mansion. And it was a mansion, by all means. The house towered skyward with three floors, an attic, a dining room that was supposedly imported from an Irish pub, and the largest basement she'd ever laid eyes on. Those details alone, coupled with the Gothic design of the interior, were enough to make any sane person fall head over heels for the property.

But not Violet Harmon. No, Violet wasn't a fan of prim and proper. Nor was she a fan of Martha Stewart or any of those home decorator types (of which she got the unmistakable feeling that Marcy was an unabashed imitator). Absolutely not, this house was just another horrible, precocious knock off, the same as all the rest on this street.

The same, that is, until Marcy let slip that the previous owners both died on the property.

"It happened in the basement," Marcy said. She looked very uneasy, perhaps spooked. "It was a murder-suicide. I guess you just never know."

That was the nail in the coffin for Violet. No more was there hesitation, no second thoughts. Her parents had to buy this house. There was no debate. And it was cheap!

Marcy suggested a mid-century colonial down the street.

Mid-century colonial? Please. Her family needed to own this place!

"Buy it," she told her parents. "It's perfect. You always wanted a big house, right?"

Vivien Harmon, her mother, held their tiny dog in her arms and looked around the kitchen where they were now congregated. She was dressed a little too nice for house shopping, Violet thought. But then again, this was her mother.

"It certainly is big. Murdered, you said?" Vivien looked to Marcy.

"And suicide, yes. It was a real tragedy. The neighborhood's still trying to recover from it."

"But that's Hollywood for you, right?" Ben Harmon removed his sunglasses. "Love and hate. All that shit. I see it every day."

Marcy gave him a confused glance, and he stopped.

"I'm a psychiatrist," he clarified. "I'm hoping to start a practice here in one of the spare lounges so I can be closer to my family."

"How refreshing," Marcy said. "You barely see that kind of devotion anymore."

Violet was done with the chitchat. Were they going to make a decision or just stand around shooting the shit? She wanted to explore the house more, so walked away from the group. Nobody noticed. No surprise there.

The chestnut-paneled hallway led all the way down the length of the house. She peered in rooms when the doors were open. Most were filled with old furniture, nearly all of the pieces either falling apart or covered with dusty off-white sheets. At the end of the hall was a sweeping staircase, the kind that you'd see Clark Gable using at parties, and she was back where they came in from the side. She liked this part of the house the best so far, mostly because it was quiet and open. She despised closed spaces. She supposed that was why most of her time was spent outdoors or in her room, which was always the most spacious bedroom in the house. She also needed the most space for all her clothes. That was another reason.

On the second floor she was pleased to find very large rooms. A bathroom complete with a claw-foot bathtub was perfect for those long-baths after school. Another few rooms down and there it was, the room that would be her bedroom.

It was dark and cold. Those were pre-requisites. She wore a lot of black, and this room was as black as this house got (as far as she'd seen). On top of that there was enough space that she wouldn't feel cramped.

Suddenly she felt the presence of someone behind her. She knew this because the hair on the back of her neck and arms stood up and the pitch of the silence changed. There was definitely someone in the room behind her.

She turned and saw a boy a little taller than her with dirty blond hair standing near the doorway. His eyes were sunken in with dark patches beneath and his skin was pale. There was no color difference between the skin of his cheeks and his lips. He looked freezing.

Before she could ask any questions, the boy spoke.

"Hey. I didn't know anyone was here."

Violet stood back.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The boy grinned and looked to the side, doing a sort of shrug.

"I'm Tate," he said. "My family lives down the street. I didn't mean to scare you."

"So, you just hang around abandoned houses?" Violet asked.

"You don't have to make it sound that creepy," he smirked. "No, I used to live here."

"Oh."

There was something about this boy. She didn't know quite what it was that intrigued her. He gave off an air of friendliness, a welcoming feeling.

"You like this room?" Tate asked. He walked into the room and stood by the window.

"Yeah. It's nice. Big. That's what I want, really."

"Nice. This used to be my room."

Suddenly Violet heard the sound of her parents coming down the hallway, led by Marcy who continued to tell them insignificant facts about the house.

"The tiffany glass is all original..."

She turned to the doorway to see her mother pausing out in the hall.

"Well, this is a nice room," Vivien said. She took a few steps inside. "What are you doing up here, Vie?"

Violet started to say that she was talking to Tate, but when she turned back to the window there was nobody there. She was completely alone in the room.

That was weird.

"Uh...nothing," she said, trying to shrug off the feeling of creepiness running across her skin.

"Alright," Ben said, coming to stand beside Vivien. "What do you think?" he turned to his wife.

"I guess we've made our decision," Vivien said in her usual, questioning tone, even though it wasn't a question so much as a statement. She turned to Violet and smiled. "We're buying the house!"

As the family went back downstairs to fill out the necessary paperwork, Tate was watching. He stood behind the far wall where there was a crawl space. It was something only he knew about, all the passages that allowed him to get around the house quickly and unannounced.

Yes, it was going to be a fun little hobby watching Violet whenever he liked. That's what the eye-sized hole in the wallpaper was for.