Tate hadn't spoken out loud in much longer than he dared admit; for his acquaintances within the house didn't truly go further than Hayden and whomever he decided to scare off. So when he spoke (regardless of the minute means of the whispering), he almost immediately winced; for the echo of his voice seemed unreal. Such was truly the reason behind the long sigh he heard escape from his lips, and not the fact that he had decided to follow the only footsteps on the dusty stairs in as quiet a demeanour as his nature would allow; though perhaps it should be, for it was his curiosity that led him forth once again, and onto the landing of the long and deeply dark basement that many a times he called his home as much as that dusty floor before Violet's door. Someone could say his infatuation with the basement was a little sick, for even he understood the morbid means behind his timely visits; they happened with the occurrence of her leaving her bedroom, it was there, in that dusty basement and the nearly abandoned crawlspace within it, that the boy decided to hide whenever the dirty blonde decided to roam about the house, and what other reason to visit the place could he have other than to visit her broken body and bones inside that hidden crawlspace where he had hurtfully hidden her remains after her suicide?

The sound of metal against the floor made whatever reverie he had found himself in break onto a bewildered means to move; curiosity broke at every cell inside him, and so, with no more than a reprimand onto his own mind for focusing on Violet so direly, he finally moved, following the noise until he reached a known and recognised part of the basement; it was a place that he had known well, a dark corner of torment, of planning, of hiding, the place where once upon a time he had scared off a girl from Westfield High, the place where he could sometimes see the ghost of Charles Montgomery playing with whatever dead rat he had been able to find. So it was safe to say that the boy was used to seeing strange things within the room's confines, yet, when he reached the place where the noises had come from, not only did his brows rise completely, but the surprise that built upon his insides was enough to make even a broken hearted psychopath smile. The poorly lit room, only illuminated by the few horizontal lights upon the ceiling, now found itself adorned by a hospital bed propped neatly near the farthest wall within the room, and a turned off cardiac machine rested just beside it; the bed rested clear with light blue sheets, leaving the room looking like a very dark and twisted version of a hospital room. Maybe even an abandoned one. This chick is stranger than I thought.

"Very well done Mr. Piñeda." The redhead's voice said with a scoffed breath escaping softly from her lips, leaving the blonde teenager with no more than risen brows and a pleasantly surprised expression. "You truly have made my day much easier by preparing everything so spotlessly." He didn't know why; but the means with which the redhead chuckled nearly made a chill run down his spine; but the brand new feeling was enough to make the boy that much more curious; something he definitely thrived on within the knowledge that, due to his very much dead state, the redhead couldn't see, or even hear him. It was only because of it that he so easily propped himself against the wall upon the empty doorway to the room where the other so easily moved and turned to plug the equipment seemingly as fast as she could. And within his curiosity rested the rather timely means of his orbs studying the very dark leather trunk that he had seen the girl carrying down the stairs along her first mistake in the house. He didn't understand what any of the girl's actions meant, much less why they were necessary, but his bewilderment left him frozen upon his stance while his twisted little mind did wonders on the many scenarios that could unfold with the combination of the girl's rather twisted demeanour and the view held within that room. Maybe a body? He wondered with the lift of a smirk before his eyes rose to look away from the trunk, and in the girl's direction again.

He didn't know how he hadn't heard, or even noticed her move, but by the time he looked up, the girl was literally standing inches away from him. What the—?! She had been far away, fixing whatever she willed within the little room, yet suddenly she stood before him, the depth of her green eyes looking straight into the near hollow of his own, her body graceful upon its stance, a gentle frown wrinkling her otherwise perfectly smooth skin, and her lips, parted as they were, releasing rather quick breaths from an otherwise calm expression. It was no surprise that it made the ghost jump back, for, if he didn't know better, he truly would have sworn she had been looking directly at him. In fact, it wasn't really that much later, that with the raise of a hand to rest upon her temple, and the narrow of her eyes that nearly made any movement look strained, the girl spoke. "Hello?" She called; with a tone only a couple of notes higher than a whisper and enough of a hold upon the wall to make it clear that her expression was not for anything other than pain. In fact, it wasn't that much later that her entire frame wobbled in place and her eyes shut as her hold along the wall tightened to hold her stance in place. "Whoa." She whispered with that dainty voice, stealing the word right from Tate's lips as she took a deep breath. If there had been any suspicion upon her looking at him before, it quickly went away the moment she finally turned around and away from him, her eyes tainted with the shadows around her as every step she took steadied with single touches upon the walls; it seemed as if her fragility were to get the best of her, as if any means of danger he had wondered only moments prior would dissipate when the girl fell upon the ground upon a mindless faint.

But any suspicion of the girl's fragility went away as quickly as it came, for, within his curiosity and a final stance against the wall, his arms neatly crossed against his chest, Tate watched as the fragile looking redheaded stretched her hand in front of her, leaning against the nearest wall; and as soon as it did, as soon as her dainty digits floated along the air before her, the trunk he had found so perplexing started moving slowly toward her as if the invisible touch of a sting held between her fragile fingers beckoned it forth. Of course, Tate's eyes widened; being a ghost, not many things surprised him, but such a reality seemed impossible; granted, magic did not hold any shock upon his being, given that a curse, if he understood right, was the very tether holding him prisoner to the confines of the Victorian house, but to see such so easily floating from the digits of a delicate young girl? Well, it was definitely something to surprise him enough to bring along a frown to match her own as he blinked, looking from the redhead to the trunk and then at her again. "How are you doing that?" He wondered within the same note of a whisper with which he had spoken before; knowing for more than his every knowledge, that the woman couldn't really hear him.

Instead, he watched as she nearly collapsed in front of the trunk, barely able to hold herself as her fingers touched the silver padlock that kept the contents completely hidden from the world; one of her dainty hands lifted towards a chain that rested around her neck, and there, a medium sized, ancient silver key rested. It was just as easily that her digits retrieved the chain from her neck with hopes of ledding the key to the trunk, and making a rather bewildered Tate lean in a little closer to shamelessly pry at her privacy. But it seemed for nought, for her hand began trembling as it held the hopeful key inches away from the lock; she breathed, barely within even a noise, her eyes shut, her other hand holding her onto that trunk as if it were her lifeline, and only until then did her lips part to speak again. "There's not enough time." It had barely been a whisper, barely been a noise that echoed much weaker than the singing of the silver key against the hard floor when it fell from her trembling digits; and it truly did seem that would be all, it seemed as if the girl would give in to her own weakness to fall onto a pointless rest against the very trunk that only seconds ago she had magically pulled toward her, but just like before, the girl surprised him, for her free hand moved in a gentle stroking manner against the soft leather covering, and along with an echo of many clicking sounds and a minute snap of her fingers, the big silver padlock opened in a light click. Tate frowned. The impossibility of the situation befell him entirely, the unknown leaving him much more uneasy than he expected; and he was just as soon wondering how she was able to do every single thing, when, with another flicking movement of the pale girl's hand, the lid of the trunk opened, and the contents of it finally were revealed.

Inside, a young, dainty looking black haired girl, much younger than the redhead (for she had to be at least reaching her thirties), whose pale skin looked softer than rose petals, rested; and just as suddenly as the lid opened, both the red haired woman and the young girl within the trunk took a long deep breath. Tate's eyes widened. If it hadn't been for that long breath the brunette had taken, he genuinely would have sworn she was dead. And it seemed, with the breath the two had taken, any and every speck of strength he would expect to find within the redhead girl, returned, and it only left the ghost as much intrigued as thrown off. Why had the two girls breathed at the same time? Why had such a breath brought back the redhead's strength as it became evident by the way in which she sat straight and smiled once again? Who kept a body, a live one, in a trunk? And with every single inquiry crashing against his brain, without even thinking about it twice, the boy pushed himself away from the wall; stepping closer to her —to them— inch by inch. "Jesus." He whispered in wonder upon the smooth pace in which the brunette girl breathed in the trunk; she looked so peaceful, perhaps two or three years older than him, resting as if asleep within the coffin-like confines of the trunk, the hospital gown covering her body left a lot to the imagination as the ghost wondered exactly what was going on.

"We really needed that breath, didn't we?" The redhead stated, pulling the boy's attention, shifting within its lack of understanding, toward her. His lips parted, the frown remained, and the cross his arms had found comfort in disappeared as any and every second that passed was spent by his eminent attempts at figuring everything out. His head shook, and his frown remained as, with a strength he was still surprised to see coming from a girl he had genuinely almost seen faint, he watched as one of her arms rested around the brunette's shoulders and the other under her knees before effortlessly lifting her from the confines of the trunk until she stood, carrying the teenager carefully (almost as if she could easily break), away from the leathered box and toward the hospital bed.

Without much of a thought, Tate moved quickly to the opposite side of the bed; his curiosity overpowering him as he leaned forward to watch the redhead's every move. Wonder was the only thing upon his mind as the woman placed the girl calmly upon the soft sheets adorning the otherwise uncomfortable looking berth. The words she had spoken had made no sense to him, and the frown wrinkling his forehead only made it very clear, even if no one truly looked at him, that he couldn't even really process what the hell was going on right before his eyes; but he knew, as he saw the redhead woman slowly take the clip of the cardiac machine and calmly place it on her finger, that he was in no way leaving until he could fully figure it all out.

The breath in both bodies relaxed; and within only a beat of a silent whisper, another sound slowly started echoing in the room; it was that of the soft beeping coming from the newly functioning cardiac machine. The action only invited the ghost's brows to rise again, wondrous over her eminent means to surprise him regardless of if she most definitely didn't know he was even there; why would the redhead plug the heart machine onto her own finger? Well, his question was quickly answered as the woman approached the beautiful brunette on the bed again; slowly, and with a frown that clearly refused to disappear, the boy watched as the redhead's eyes clouded with the very shadows along the room, only, this time, instead of naturally darkening as any explainable obscurity would, the boy became witness to every single speck of light disappearing within them, every shade, every colour, they all became invaded by the darkest of blacks holding the otherwise human orbs hostage; it was almost as if her orbs had disappeared, only proving his theory wrong when a soft shift upon the woman's body made the brightness of the lamps above them glisten within her otherwise entirely black eyes. It was with that shift of her body that the redhead looked down at the girl and a hand lifted to part the brunette's lips; then, in a swift, yet careful manner, Tate watched as she climbed the bed and moved until she knelt on a straddling position on top of the sleeping girl; only making his frown disappear into a fully curious and rather teenage boy dirty minded raise of his brows. If he hadn't promised himself a curious stay before, there was enough strangeness before him to make it even clearer: there was definitely no way he was leaving.

With lips nearly forming a small 'O', Tate watched as the redhead's movements shifted and accommodated the girl upon the bed until her young frame aligned just perfectly enough with her own; and then a breath, in perfect unison, lifted both female's chests before escaping their equally parted lips. In fact, from then on, both bodies on the bed breathed calmly, in sync, and left Tate simply staring in wonder; the exchange was the most twisted and weird thing he'd seen in a very long time. It was within the very last breath that the weirdness only added in front of him, when a thick dark smoke started slipping from the redhead's mouth, only to fall into the brunette's neatly parted rosy lips; the brunette's chest rose with a much deeper breath, and within only that second, her lids flew open, leaving the ghost nearly breathless when a beautiful and liquid, shiny blue was revealed in the brunette's irises. He had seen the redhead's orbs, within their green so nearly hypnotising that had scared him shitless upon a moment of distraction, but they were mud compared to the beautiful shade that illuminated the teenager's hues; if the redhead's orbs had hypnotised him before, he felt nearly mindless of every thought upon staring into the blue that now completely held him, it was such beauty that nearly left him feeling a little disappointed when the deep angry black he had seen within the redhead's stare started filling the wonderful and alluring ocean of the brunette's eyes. Something that, as Tate looked at the redhead, he realised had actually been the very same black that he had seen invading the woman's orbs, for it was slowly fading like a smoking cloud releasing them from its hold; it was as if the very same black was being transferred into the brunette by the confines of the horrendous dark smoke that passed from lips to lips.

His eyes fell on the brunette again when the black faded completely from the redhead's eyes, and he realised that, as the redhead's body fell limp on the brunette's, she smiled. If a chill had nearly ran down his spine within the look the woman had unconsciously given him, the empty means of the brunette's black stare was enough to make him become paralysed within his stance; specially when he realised that the only conscious beings in the room at that moment were him and the alluring brunette that lay smiling on that hospital bed. It was a strange danger that left the ghost blinking repeatedly and curiously as the absolutely stunning blue that had taken his breath away at first started softly appearing again, only then making that once terrifying smile seem nearly breathtaking and even completely alluring. What exactly had the house called forth this time?

There were really no words the boy could say to express his own astonishment, but even so the most careless of expressions left from unguarded brims. "Holy fuck." He said as he slowly backed away toward the doorway in a forced movement that he willed merely for the chill he had suppressed, leaving the pair to be his last unheard words as he let his guard completely down without meaning to, almost fully hypnotised by what seemed to be an unexplainable new horror to rest within the giant home; it was no surprise that a big fucking smile spread across his lips.

It was a twisted little thing, the one he had just witnessed; hell, he lived in the fucking Murder House and he was shocked, which definitely was saying something, but, the truth was that the weirder shit got, the more Tate liked it. It was all full distractions that made any single thought disappear from his mind, any fear, any wonder, all within his diversion and that strange smile lifting the corners of his lips as he watched the girl slowly start to move; at first it was only her fingers, then her arm, lifting it weakly to carefully move the body of the unconscious redhead from against her frame, then it was her feet, resting plainly against the bed with the stretches that brought her body slowly to life, then it was her face, as she slowly turned her head to look at the unconscious redhead as her lips broke in a smirk. The boy didn't even realise he had backed away towards his initial standing place under the doorway until his back hit against the wall. "Thanks for the ride, Miss Zandra Piece." The brunette stated in the heavy echo of what Tate could only think of as an English accent. "We should do it again some time." It was a dry humour that nearly went unnoticed by the boy, who only truly focused on the means with which her voice cracked in some version of what he could only imagine the voice of someone coming back from a coma would sound.

Her liquid blue eyes hid under her lids once again, and with what seemed like a bit of effort she sat up on the bed; it was such a movement that finally echoed in some sort of similarity with the redhead, for, even in her resting place upon the bed, her body wobbled with a fragility that had seemed nearly mindless before. Any and every movement from the brunette made the now unconscious woman look like a dainty kitten and she like a hungry wolf, even as both her hands lifted to rub against her eyes in the very same means in which a child would. But, then, just as suddenly as the action had come, it left, leaving only the reality of her frown deepening upon her forehead.

Tate watched intently, with the nearly hypnotised means of his body, as the beauteous blue reappeared upon the opening of her lids; a gaze that reached him under the doorway with as much shock as the one that had come from the redhead before, one that, if he didn't know any better, he would swear was directed at him. In fact, he watched her as her hands lowered, he became witness to the softest tilts of her head that only made any terrifying doll within any movie look like a sham within their innocence, and only after the soft blink of her ocean orbs, he heard her speak. "Who are you?"

The words were enough to shock every cell on his body; they were enough for that smile across his lips to flinch only shortly as the realisation of his displaced guard befell him. Before, it had truly seemed as if she hadn't seen him, and for the note of her simple inquiry, she clearly hadn't, but, this time... well, this time her words, as rough within their accented note as they echoed, were directed only at Tate. "Well?" She wondered again, without daring to even blink once, and leaving the very chill he had pushed back before, only excite him the more when it made him stand a little straighter. "Aren't you going to answer?" A pause left his lips parting only slightly. "Who are you and why are you in my house?" She paused once again, with the only evidence of distress within her frame becoming the very tight hold she suddenly had on the thin blue layer of what the hospital gown seemed to be. And, apparently, she seemed to understand that no word would come from him, for, suddenly, her inquiry seemed to change: "How long have you been standing there?"

Tate simply stared for a few seconds; his frame slowly relaxing into his bravado style whilst taking advantage of the fact that he was still standing against the doorway. He had been seen, and now... now there was no way to turn back and run. The twisted little blue eyed girl, who had just willed some strange black shade away from her eyes, had seen him.

It seemed Murder House had finally called in a whole new level of weird.

To Be Continued