Tate waited until Violet was in as deep of sleep as possible—which for ghosts isn't really deep, mostly like resting their eyes. He slid his arm out from under her head and quietly placed both feet on the floor before thrusting his weight on them. Once he was free he headed down to the basement, ignoring Troy and Bryan who wanted him to play with them. He was a man on a mission and nothing was breaking his concentration.
"Hey Tate," Isaac said with a grin that quickly changed as Tate's right fist met his left cheek. Tate didn't speak a word as he picked Isaac up by the neck and pinned him against the wall. This was the first time Tate allowed himself to be consumed by the darkness entirely. He stared at his brother's sick and pleased expression, his nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. The grip he had on Isaac grew stronger. He could feel the bones in his neck weakening.
"Why?" was all Tate said. Isaac coughed and laughed instead of answering. "Why her?" Tate growled again. Each second Isaac refused to answer; Tate's grip grew substantially stronger.
"I knew you weren't over her," Isaac choked out. Tate let the rest of his grip grow until he crushed Isaac's neck and dropped his momentarily limp body. He was already dead, and since the dead can't die again, it just takes them a few minutes to get back to "normal".
Tate ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends and smacking his head. He was trying to calm himself enough so he could talk to Isaac and get an answer. Isaac was lying on the floor, grumbling and making stupid jokes about how he had a neck ache from Hell. Tate rolled his eyes. Once Isaac was "healed" Tate asked him again. "Tell me why you went and raped Violet…" It pained him to say those words. It was one thing to mutter all the other bad things Isaac did, but now he crossed the line.
"She thought I was you until she saw my scar. It's always that scar. You the perfect son. The perfect boyfriend. What am I? What was Beau and Addy? Why weren't we good enough? Why did you get it so damn easy?" Isaac growled.
Tate laughed which caused the darkness to fade a bit from his eyes. "You think I had it easy? Being that witch of a mother's favorite son? That's easy? It may have looked like she loved me, but it was all a façade. She only liked my face. She only liked me when I could get her what she wanted, attention. 'Oh, what a beautiful son you have!' She ate that shit up. She ignored me just as much as she ignored you, Addy, and Beau. I wish I could have taken Beau's place; be hidden in the attic and not have to participate in her stupid game. I was not her perfect son."
Isaac rolled his eyes at Tate. "Whatever. Pretty boy. You had it a lot better than I did."
Tate took a deep breath. "This is beside the point. I want to know why you did all those horrible things to innocent people."
Isaac cocked his eyebrow. "I thought you wanted to know why I fucked Violet."
Tate cringed. "I do, but I want to know what made you do all those other things, too."
Isaac grinned and walked around Tate. "Well then, my dear brother, take a seat… it's going to be a bumpy ride." He placed his hand on Tate's shoulder and pushed him down on the ground. The evil smirk never ceased from his face. He was going to enjoy this.
Violet woke up in the middle of the night when a loud bang occurred downstairs. She climbed out of bed and wondered down the stairs, still not perfecting the ghost train of thought, she tip-toed. The front door was open, the glass shattered on the floor. "Damn it!" someone shouted from the shadows with an Australian accent. Violet looked over the railing and could see all the occupants of the house standing around, gawking at the door and culprit of the noise.
A young man threw down a box that slid right in front of Moira's feet. He began speaking in fluent profanity as he fumbled to pick up the broken glass. The ghosts shot glances at one another. The guy stood at the door and signaled. Violet sat down on the stairs, watching him. "Can you believe this is our house?" a woman's voice spoke as she entered the doorway, her husband on her arm and a little girl hiding behind her.
The husband turned on the light, revealing to Violet a very full foyer, but the family only saw the four of them. "Honey, this is your new home!" the mother said to her little girl. The little girl's eyes met every pair of invisible eyes in the room. Her mom picked her up and put her on her hip; she was sucking a pacifier and holding a blanket.
Nora began smiling at the little girl and the little girl smiled back, she began reaching for Nora when her mom took her upstairs. As they walked by Violet, the little girl reached for her and smiled.
"I can't believe you made me move to this stupid house that was probably built back when dinosaurs roamed the earth," the young guy said as he stared, disgusted at the ceiling.
The dad walked over, placed his hand on his son's shoulder, and handed him a bag. "Well, get over it, Logan. I already registered you to start Monday at Westfield high school. Like it or not, this is home now and we're not leaving for a long time." Violet couldn't help but chuckle at how very true the father was.
Logan rolled his blue eyes and huffed up the stairs. Violet watched as the 6'2" blue eyed, brown shaggy hair, peaches and cream colored skin boy stomped past her. She glanced down and saw all the other ghosts were still not sure what was going on, except Hayden who was eying the man who was sizing up the amount of boxes they had to unpack in the morning. Violet got up and followed the boy.
He wondered into the first room he came to, threw his bag down on the floor, and collapsed on the foot of the bed. Violet stared at him from the doorway. There was a boy on her bed and it wasn't Tate. "I hate this house!" Logan shouted. Violet once again snickered, just wait until this house is the only life you will ever have. "I hate this country and I hate you for making me move," he fussed some more. Violet decided she was going to have a lot of fun with him.
Tate was watching Isaac walk around him, he never stood still. "Are you going to tell me, already?" he asked, getting very annoyed.
Isaac finally stopped walking and sat down in front of Tate. He grabbed Tate's face and pulled it closer to his, Tate could see the darkness in his brother's eyes. It made him uneasy. "You really want to know why I killed those kids, burned up Larry, murdered Chad and Patrick, and had sex with your precious princess' mom?" Isaac seemed a little too proud as he named all the treacherous things he had done, and he was more than happy to go into details.
He shoved Tate back and jumped up to his feet again. "I set fire to Larry because he was too much of an idiot to see how mom was playing his sorry ass. I liked him, but he was a fucking moron. Kept going on about how much mom loved him and blah, blah, blah. He was pissing me off with how he was going to move in and become our dad. Asshole." Isaac reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, lit it, and sucked in a long deep inhale. "So then I went to school. Mom didn't want anyone to know I existed since I wasn't, well, you. I decided to get revenge on the world. You had killed yourself because nobody even noticed you. They didn't really bully you, but you were just a slight breeze drifting through their perfect little lives. It was enough to make you feel like a worthless piece of shit. They may not have bullied you, but they didn't give a damn about you, to me, that is even worse than if they had messed with you."
Isaac walked over to the window and stared out. "I walked through the school, shot 10 random people. I didn't know if they knew you or anything, I just played 'eenie, meenie, miny, moe' with them. Then I got to the library. The doors were shut. Had they just hid and not shut the door, I probably wouldn't have even bothered with it. After all, I didn't even know there was a library. I tried to open the door; they locked and jammed something against it. They were fucking cowards." He took a pause to take a drag off his cigarette. "I shot three times through the door, hitting that librarian or teacher or whatever he was. Then I was able to open the door. Nobody was around, but I knew they were in there. I could smell their fear. I could hear an ever so slight whimper as I made my rounds." He managed to smile.
He stood up and walked around the room. "First one I found was that Goth chick; she started screaming from a couple books that I shoved off the shelf. She stared at me, pure fear in her eyes. I was very amused. I shot her in the head. Next was that guy named Kevin. Haha, he didn't even really try to hide from me. He was between a couch and table. How sad of a hiding place? I shot him in the right side of his face." He walked over and crouched next to Tate. Tate was taking in all the information his brain was receiving. "Next, that dork with the glasses. The one who decided to call for help. I really let him have it; he looked up into the barrel of the gun and I blew off his face. Did he really think he was going to get away with that?" He shook his head and stood back up.
He picked up a ball and started bouncing it. "Then that fucking jock tried to talk to me. He thought he was going to be the hero and save the day. Ha. There's never a hero when you show up unarmed to a gun fight. I placed the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. Hiding under the table was the precious cheerleader. She was a pretty one. Fortunate enough to look pretty even when she begged for her life. I didn't want to ruin her pretty face so I shot her in the heart. Then I went home and waited. I wasn't stupid. I knew the police would look for me here first. They busted through the door, a whole team of them. I heard mom calling your name. Not mine." He grabbed the ball and threw it through the window. He then sat down in front of Tate. "I reached for my gun and let them shoot me. I let them take me away from that horrible life."
Tate took a deep breath. "What about Chad and Patrick?"
Isaac began laughing. "The queens? They were just for fun. Nora was bitching about how they wouldn't have any children and she'd never get a baby, and blah, blah, blah. So I killed them. I made a Patrick cabob using the fire wood poker. Chad, he was different though, he fought to stay alive. So I took them down into the basement. He reached for his partner. It was quite moving. Haha. Then I made it so Chad was holding the gun and pulled the trigger into his heart."
Tate tried not to cringe. "What about Vivien?"
Isaac smiled. "Vivien. Have you seen her? She's hot! And I refuse to call what we did 'rape'. She wanted it. She just thought I was her jackass of a husband. Who was I to correct her? But I can promise you, she was loving it," he said with a wink. "She never once said 'no' or 'stop'. Unlike that little prude of a girlfriend you have."
Tate could feel his anger welling up again. He started to reach for Isaac's neck when he heard a strange voice coming down the basement stairs and Isaac vanished before he had a chance to grab him. Tate backed into the shadows.
Tate stared at the unfamiliar tall dark haired man who was carrying boxes into the basement. Every so often he would grumble profanity in his thick accent, as he would drop a box on his foot, or walk into something that was already down there. "Wow, look at all this shit," he mumbled to himself about the condition of the basement. "This house sure did accumulate a lot of worthless crap."You have no idea, Tate thought to himself.
The man walked back upstairs and Tate decided to follow him. Even though he had been a ghost for a long time, he sometimes still snuck around when following someone. He acted a bit like a spy; walking slowly and far behind the man, sliding around the walls, hiding behind things. After a while, he realized he was just doing it to entertain himself as he eavesdropped on the new occupants.
Tate watched the man go into the one bedroom and check on his little girl. He couldn't remember a time before Vivien came along that a little child had set foot on the house's grounds. She was precious as she slept. He could almost guarantee that Nora had already sensed, if not seen her, and was already referring to the little girl as her baby. "Goodnight my sweet Annabelle," the guy whispered as he kissed her on the forehead.
The little girl opened her eyes as Tate started to walk away. He knew, even though nobody else could see him, she was looking right at him. Children haven't been corrupted by life, yet. They can see things that most adults tell themselves are not real. Her large green eyes were sparkling and she smiled, reaching for him. He allowed her to grab his finger and with his other hand placed his index finger to his lips. She slowly let go and fell back asleep. It broke his heart that he would never have the chance to make Violet a mom and he believed she would've made a great mom.
He followed the guy into Violet's old room; lying across her bed was Logan. Tate could feel a slight snarl try to escape his body. He wasn't perfect and when it came to Violet, he didn't like any possible competition, living or dead. Tate took a long, deep breath before entering the room. He was snooping around at the few boxes that were stacked in the room. Tate noticed that on every box in the room had a strange language on them. He ran his fingers across the braille letters.
The father walked out the room, after saying goodnight to Logan. Tate stared at the young man in wonderment. "Don't you know it's not polite to stare?" Logan asked quietly. Tate stepped backwards in shock. "Look, I may not be able to see you—and if you are what I think you are, sight wouldn't help my cause anyway—but I know you're here." Tate was too shocked to say anything. He staggered out of the bedroom and followed the man's silhouette.
Tate watched from the doorway as the man was greeted by his wife with a kiss. She had long auburn hair hanging down her back. "Jim, I love our new house," she said with a smile. "I love its character and charm. I never want us to leave this house." She kissed her husband. He began kissing her neck and whispering her name into the nape of her neck, "Brooke."
Although Tate was still standing in the doorway, he wasn't really watching as their encounters grew more and more intimate. A glazed look washed over his face. Nights like that he really wished he could sleep. His brain had processed too much information in a short 24-hour gap. He liked the new family, or at least what he knew of them. They were bringing life into the dead house once again. Just like Violet did. Only this time, he wasn't going to let bad things happen to them. He knew his best chance to accomplish that would be Logan. He wondered back into the basement, trying to come up with a plan to rid the house of its evil.
