This chapter contains details from Miseria Canta (Misery Sings), so for those who haven't read it but have seen Murder House, here's just a quick debriefing: Instead of the Harmons, Derek and Isabel Noble moved into the Murder House.

For those who haven't seen Murder House (season one of AHS), then don't worry about it! Just know that it's the house the Countess visited in the early 1900s to have her abortion by Charles.

CHAPTER ONE

She never thought she would step foot in this house without her father being there. It was shocking, really. Hardly anything had changed since she had last been here a year ago. Isabel had only lived in the house for a few months, yet it felt so familiar. It was like Derek was still alive.

It had been left to her in her father's will. It hadn't been hard for Derek to pay off the mortgage; he could certainly afford it. So the Murder House was now Isabel's. The deed was in her name. It all belonged to her.

She traversed across the threshold, venturing further into the home that had once been hers and was now hers again.

"I hope everything is to your liking," said none other than Marcy Huber, who had sold the house to the Nobles back in 2011.

Bitter remarks danced on the tip of Isabel's tongue, but she miraculously managed to stop them. She kept looking around, as if expecting to see someone. And of course she was. After all, she and her father hadn't been the only residents in this house when they bought it.

"Thanks, Marcy," Isabel said to the realtor with a forced smile.

"And you're absolutely sure you've no interest in selling?" Marcy asked. That was her reason for being there. She sincerely hoped that Isabel would confirm that she wasn't going to put the house on the market. Marcy had a hard enough time with this place and the fact that yet another person died after living here wasn't going to help. At least this time no one died in the house.

"I'm absolutely sure," Isabel assured Marcy.

They said their goodbyes and Marcy left. Isabel stood in the entryway of the living room, waiting.

Why was no one making an appearance? They all knew her at this point, so why bother hiding? Then it occurred to her what day it was: Halloween. No one was showing up because they were all gone. Well… not all of them.

Isabel went to the basement door. There was a chill that went down her spine. She would have to be careful. She knew what was down there. The scar on her arm tingled. It was in the shape of a bite mark; an old wound given to her by Thaddeus Montgomery, the infantata born to Nora and Charles Montgomery. She would have to be careful.

Slowly, Isabel descended the stairs of basement. They creaked beneath her feet. Oddly enough, the sound helped her relax as it broke the eerie silence that filled the stiff air. Isabel ran her hand along the wall when she reached the bottom step to try and find the light switch. The lights flickered on, illuminating the dusty basement.

"Nora?" Isabel called out softly. She didn't see the blonde haired woman who haunted this place, dazed and confused most of the time. Isabel was sure to keep an eye out for Charles, Nora's husband. He was more or less a little crazy and creepy what with his drug addiction and his experiments.

She was met with silence. Perhaps Nora left the house too? It was the only time of the year that the ghosts could leave the property. Normally the Montgomerys didn't leave, but perhaps times had changed. Isabel couldn't be sure seeing as she hadn't been here for a long while.

"Do you have an appointment with my husband?" Isabel turned suddenly and faced Nora Montgomery, who was staring at her with a quizzical expression and a tilted head. "You'll have to come back later; we're very busy right now… we're… my baby, we're looking for my baby. I have to find him."

"Nora," Isabel said firmly. "Nora, it's me, Izzy." Surely Nora remembered her?

Nora studied Isabel for a few moments, brow furrowed. "Izzy? No, no Isabel is younger. She's shorter. She doesn't have glasses. She's not you."

Right. One year ago, Isabel didn't have glasses and today she hadn't put in her contacts. One year ago, she had been a little shorter. One year ago, she had been younger. But she was still Isabel. The young woman took off her glasses and Nora's image became a little blurry. "It's me, Nora. It's Izzy."

Nora raised her eyebrows as she suddenly recognized Isabel. "Izzy, what are you doing here?" she asked as Isabel put her glasses back on. "You left us… why did you leave?"

"I have my reasons," Isabel answered, being vague on purpose. She knew there was no sense in trying to actually explain to Nora why she hadn't been home for a year. She tried explaining every year, yet it was always the same question of why did she leave. "How've you been?" It was nice that she was managing to have an actual conversation with Nora, although she had a feeling that this wasn't going to last long.

Sure enough, Nora got that glazed look in her sapphire eyes once more. "Worried. So worried… my baby is missing. I need to find my baby." She clutched her lace handkerchief tightly, eyes darting around the basement. "Thaddeus, he was stolen. He was stolen from me and I need him back. I need…"

Isabel sighed quietly, shaking her head as she turned away from Nora, keeping an eye out for Thaddeus. He had attacked her once, she sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen again.

She paused a moment in her steps when she heard a low animalistic rumbling coming from a shadowy corner of the basement. It was the infantata, growling as if to warn Isabel that she better get the hell out of there, which was exactly what she did. Isabel hurried up the stairs, shutting the light off and plunging the basement into total darkness.

Back on the main floor of the house, Isabel stood, taking everything in. The last time she was here for more than just a visit, she had been with her father. He had been writing a crime novel about the Murder House. It seemed like only yesterday he was holed up in his study, working tirelessly with his research on every death that happened in this house.

Now he was gone. Gone forever, like Adelaide Langdon, because he hadn't died in the house. Tears pricked Isabel's eyes and she took off her glasses to wipe them away.

Then, a familiar scent hit her nose. It was the scent of sweet perfume mixed with cigarettes. With a mind of their own, Isabel's legs guided her into the kitchen. And sure enough, there was the one person she absolutely did not want to see at a time like this: her mother.

Constance Langdon.