I sighed heavily. Today had been a long day; from enrolling into Westfield to suffering from migraines (which, to be honest, I used as an excuse out of class), to trying to suppress the voices that crowded my head. It was especially infuriating hearing the same requests made by different voices over and over at every second of the day. All I wanted to do was trudge up the stairs and crawl into bed.

But, of course, simplicity was too much to ask for.

"Hi?" I hadn't meant for the questioning tone, but I couldn't help the slight inclination of my voice. I tried hard not to let someone else's flashback push into my mind about the history of the room and focus on the random stranger caught rifling through my drawers. He spun around quickly and stared at me for a long while. There were a few moments of awkward silence before he realized that I was talking to him.

"Oh, me?" he asked confusedly. I rolled my eyes and kept myself from a sarcastic retort. He was taller than me, tousled blonde hair in contrast to my pitch black mess, piercing dark eyes opposite my dull blue. He reminded me a lot of the boy next door, because they both had a handsome face that seemed innocent but their eyes screamed guilty.

I nodded slowly and uncomfortably before clearing my throat.

"Do you usually come into people's rooms unexpectedly or...?"

He shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I'm Tate."

"Claire," I replied, still aware of the elephant in the room, "Nice to meet you, I s'pose."

His lips curved into a half-smile, amused by my sarcasm. "Yeah, I guess."

Despite my better judgement and understanding of the common saying 'Looks can be deceiving', I decided that at the moment, sleep was more important than questioning Tate, the cute boy that welcomed himself to my room and looked through my things. All I was thankful for was that I wasn't present when he looked through my underwear drawer.

I managed to catch myself before I collapsed on the floor with fatigue and sat on the bed, Tate following suit. I didn't even have enough energy to push him off or question why he was so weird. He wasn't even uncomfortable with the fact I caught him pillaging my things.

After concluding that he couldn't possibly be much of a threat to me, and if he tried to pull a move, I could have him sprawled on the floor in five seconds flat, I made idle side conversation with him, mainly getting to know each other. I learned that we were both seventeen, he apparently dropped out of Westfield, and that he lived next door, although he seemed awfully uncomfortable when I commented on how he and Michael looked similar. He learned that I had recently moved from San Francisco, which, besides the climate change, wasn't much different from Los Angeles and that, every year, I devoted myself into learning a new hobby.

He snorted when he learned that this year was knitting and made a snide comment about knitting and old age. He was promptly pushed onto the floor.

"So..." I drawled tiredly after a few hours, eyes drooping and not up to conversation anymore, but also not knowing how to politely ask him to get the hell out.

"So..." he repeated, adding a cheeky grin, obviously not even close to tired. I rolled my eyes, deciding that he wouldn't take the hint. I maneuvered around him to get comfortable, and accidentally brushed my hand against his.

Big. Mistake.

My body convulsed and my eyes rolled into my head, immediately thrown into a hallucination.

Images of his mother, morbidly alcoholic, and her neglect toward him and his siblings. His previous residency at the house and the darkness that consumed him, leading to many deaths, including his mother's boyfriend, many of the house's previous tenants, and even actions that led to his own death. The pain he felt being all alone, regretting his decisions, mourning the loss of a loved one. Every single tiny detail that he encountered in his life and even his after life flashed before my eyes as if it were my own.

I sat up gasping for air at the end of the flashback, seeing him hovering over me with a concerned look. Putting my head in-between my legs, I tried to regain my composure as I felt the weight on my shoulders dig in deeper. I pieced the memories together and understood why he was so surprised that I even saw him earlier.

He was dead.

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for such a short chapter, but I needed a way to introduce Tate and to sort of give more insight on what Claire can do. I don't really like making author's notes, but I just really needed to let you guys know that I'm so thankful for your guys's support. Without you, I would have no motivation to write this haha. Special shout outs to SheBangBang and bex-the-awkward-panda-gurl for their wonderful comments! Love you guys!

Stay happy and see you guys next week :D