October 31, 2014.
-Tate's P.O.V-
There were a lor of teary good-byes. Moira hugged Chad and Patrick. Mrs. Harmon had decided to leave, too. Despite Michael. Maybe that's why she had him over so often. So when she left, she'd only be a distant memory to him, but a memory all the same. She found me, in the basement. I was cross-legged against the wall, picking at the fray on my jeans. I didn't look up, but I knew it was her.
"If you don't go now, you won't have a chance for another year, Tate." Her voice was soft, motherly. I would use kind words with her, I decided. I wouldn't be harsh.
"No offense, Mrs. Harmon, but I don't want to go. Not now. Maybe, not ever. This is my home. I hate it, but I don't know what comes after." My dark eyes found her light ones, and she smiled sadly down at me. "Send me a post card, or something." I mumbled, my eyes finding my nervous hands again. I hated that she was so nice to me, she should hate me. Violet did.
"She's not going to come back, Tate. She's gone. Probably to some place far better. I miss her, my fearless daughter. I know you do, too."
I covered my ears. "Don't do that!" I half yelled, my voice hoarse with on coming tears. "Don't do that. You don't know that. What if there's nothing, huh?" I glared at her. "No bright light, no God. What if Violet and everyone else is just gone? No explanation."
She crossed her arms. Her lips were a tight line. "Whatever happens, it's better than being here, sulking." She smoothed the top of my matted blonder hair. "I know you love her. I love her, too. I had hoped she would forgive, like I had, but she's stubborn. Now she's gone, and I have to try to catch up to her. Ben will stay here." Her face morphed into a look of disgust. "Give him hell for me, Tate." She patted my shoulder and went back up to the living room. I would never see her again. I was slowly losing everyone. Even though, the guilt would ease itself if I didn't have to look at her everyday. I waited until dusk to go to my usual spot, the beach. I hoped those fuck heads from Westfield would leave me alone. I don't remember killing them, I swear.
They sure as hell remember you...
I collapsed in the sand, lying on my side. I would build a fire eventually, I had a little bit of time. I watched as the waves crashed on the rocks. I remembered Violet, again. She was so soft, so warm. Even after she died, she was warm. Everything about her. From her oversized sweaters to her carmel eyes. I stayed like that for a while. I built a fire and sat in front of it, not afraid to get to close. You can't die twice, right. The thought made me smirk. I began day dreaming about the day another family moved into the house. Would they be nice? Would they be smart? I chuckled to myself. If they didn't believe in ghosts when they came, they sure as fuck would after a week. We would scare them out, like we always did, so no one suffered like us. Although, after the Harmons, no one but two single woman bought the house. They both ran out, hair white, and sold it after six months. It would have been sooner if the agent could have managed it. When dawn began to stretch across the sky, I stood and made my way back to the house. I didn't bother putting out the fire. The waves would do the job.
Another Halloween spent alone, in a pile on the sand. I was pathetic. I had nothing. I came to the gates of the front yard and stepped through just as the sun really hit the sky. I was greeted by Nora, who was admiring the rising sun in the front yard, a shawl around her fragile shoulders. I had always admired Nora, she was delicate, but strong.
Much like Violet, no?
I shoved the thought from my head and forced a smile to Nora.
"Marvelous, just marvelous. I swear, it never gets old for me." Her blue eyes faced the sun almost directly. I stood beside her. "Oh, Tate. How lonely you must be. I was glad when Charles left. But you must be devastated." She wrapped one end of her shawl around my shoulders. "You've always been a sensitive boy." I smiled down at her, and she returned to it.
"Thanks Nora, for being so great."
She dimpled at me. "Not a problem, m'boy. Not a problem."
We walked back inside the Murder House for another damned year.
