I have to say this chapter was pretty hard to write. I've got to get Leah into the Murder House somehow.
I apologize for any grammar mistakes, etc. I cranked this one out really fast.
Also, thank you so much for the reviews. I didn't expect this to be a popular fic, as it is Leah, but I do truly appreciate your reviews! Thank you!
The clicking sound of a broken intercom echoed through the aisles as she struggled to keep her thoughts, placing can upon can, box upon box. Customers had fled like the plague, scampering and scurrying as the static flooded the market, avoiding the noise like it was the very worst of their worries. Scott had been in the back working on the cacophony for over an hour, but she knew the truth – the sick bastard was most likely watching his tapes.
She had worked a twelve hour shift. In the same, balled up spot.
"Oh, would you hush up!" sounded a familiar southern drawl. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.
She glanced over as the woman jerked her cart back and forth, shaking the babbling toddler as he pulled on his safety restraints, fussing as tears began to glide down his cheeks, pooling just above his upper lip.
And for an instant, Leah stopped breathing.
She knew those eyes – that dark shade of abyssal black.
Always. Always. Always. And the three little marks on her face burned.
Scott found her ten minutes later, passed out on the cold, concrete floor.
The blonde woman hadn't even stopped to help.
No one had.
She had always denied that her family was broken.
Her mother basically had two husbands, but she was stuck to Leah's father because she was a goddamn good Catholic.
Her father, after eighteen years of his daughter's life, still signed her birthday cards Leigh.
But tonight they sat together, clasping each other's hands as they sat indifferently, facing their only child as they casually sipped out of their wine glasses.
Red wine … like blood.
"Leah, we're worried," her mother started.
She scoffed. "I'm going out later."
Her father smiled. "Finally."
The house was chanting again, and this time she was watching it from the gates.
Eat it. Eat it. Eat it.
She cringed, slamming her eyes shut as the wind swirled through her brunette hair, sending a familiar chill down her spin as she clenched her fists, leaving bloody nail marks along her palms.
"Violet," she beckoned, her tone taunting just as it had been months before. She hadn't realized what she had said until the footsteps beside caused a wave of panic, surging through her body with a vengeance.
"Oh, dear," the blonde woman sung with her regal voice, hand on one hip and dog leash in the other. "Haven't you heard?"
"Yes."
The woman's expression remained stoic – collected … in an elegant manner. Calmly, she extended her hand. "Constance Langdon."
"Leah Gibbs."
She felt the woman staring at her scars.
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance, then?" the woman smiled charmingly, her eyes traveling from Leah's face to her feet, a judgmental expression hidden in the slight curl of her lip. "After all, those shoes are absolutely stunning."
Leah glanced down, shrugging her shoulders at the heels she used to fawn over. "How do I get in?"
"Excuse me?"
"Into the Murder House."
Silence.
And Constance merely chucked, digging through the pocket of her jacket before she extended her hand. "Cigarette?"
The door bell to the Murder House sounded, and Leah could feel the back of her throat beginning to swell. She watched as the blonde bitch shifted in her place, staying two steps behind at all times, arms crossed and dog shaking at her feet.
"Hello, Ben," Constance cooed, a hint of teasing threading each of her words.
The man in the doorway was silent, his gaze hateful and cold.
The blonde bitch clicked her tongue, awkwardly shifting her gaze to the teenager beside her. "Leah, this is Ben. He lives here now."
The man merely nodded.
"He's a shrink – two kids, a wife. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be interrupting this man's personal life with your own morbid curiosity."
Leah paused. "You're a shrink?"
Again, the man merely nodded. "Yes."
Eat it. Eat it. Eat it. Eat it.
A smirk spread wide across her face as the chant started once again. "I'd like to make an appointment."