The sun seeped lazily through the blinds, illuminating particles of dust that seemed to wink at Cordelia as she awoke. A grin languidly crept across her face when she felt strong arms around her. She turned sleepily, half expecting to see a mess of blonde curls, frowning when she was met with Hank instead. The memories of friday played through her head, deepening her frown into a full-blown scowl. She felt sick. Slowly she untangled herself from Hank, careful not to wake him, and slipped out of bed towards the bathroom. Without a second thought, she turned on the shower and shed her clothes, stepping into the hot water. She washed hastily, trying to scrub Hank from her body, cringing when she saw small bruises by her hip. She hated the fact that Hank had marked her, forcing her to remember friday night for at least a week when all she wanted to do was forget. Saturday she spent all day avoiding him, hoping he would get the message but he persisted, stuck in his own world where that one primitive act had saved their marriage. She stayed in the shower until the hot water turned cold, coming out to find Hank still asleep, snoring soundly. Dressing quickly and silently, she tip-toed down the steps, careful to be quiet and not wake Hank so as to get as much alone time as possible. She shuffled into the kitchen, unsatisfied with the options for breakfast and decided on going to the store. Knowing Hank would be angry if he woke up and she was gone, Cordelia left a tiny note on the counter, Gone to the store be back soon -D.

000

Cordelia trudged back into the house, balancing various grocery bags as she tossed her keys on the counter. She set down the bags, rummaging through them, back turned, when suddenly a shrill laugh echoed down the halls. The piercing laugh made Cordelia jump, everything falling from her hands. She spun, gasping when she saw that despite the fact that her kitchen was empty, every drawer, cabinet and even the fridge had been flung open. Before she had time to even process the mess in front of her, another fit of giggles flooded the halls, this time instantly recognizable—Adelaide.

She followed the sound to the back door, not surprised to girl in a fit of laughter. "What are you doing?!" Adelaide just laughed harder. "Why are you in my house?!" Cordelia grabbed the girl by the wrist, leading her into the kitchen and pulling out her phone to call Constance.

000

"I want you to stay out of my house, do you understand?" Cordelia finished closing the rest of the open drawers, walking around the island where both Constance and Adelaide sat.

"Can I smoke in here?" Constance sat uninterested, a cigarette between her fingers.

"No."

Constance flicked her lighter in annoyance but put away her cigarette.

"Adelaide answer me please." Cordelia waited, hand on hip and eyes brows furrowed like they always did when she was agitated. She was met by an impatient sigh from Constance. "Adelaide," Cordelia tried not to raise her voice, not wanting to bring Hank in from upstairs, "I want you to stop coming in my house without permission. I want you to stop coming in here and opening everything up and telling me I'm going to die." She tried her best to be patient but this was the second time Adelaide had showed up in her house, not to mention the times Constance came in uninvited.

Constance reached out, tucking a hair behind Adelaide's ear affectionately. "Don't worry, this is the last time. I wouldn't want her walking in on one of your little trysts with that trampy maid."

Cordelia felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "Excuse me?"

"Things don't stay secret for very long in this house," she fiddled with her purse, "Of course I know you haven't slept together...yet." She laughed knowingly, "But it's only a matter of time. A little bit of warning from me to you, she's not who you think she is you know. She's got quite a backstory." A wicked grin curled around her face as she stood up from her stool, "I think it's time for us to go, come on Addy."

"No," Cordelia intercepted their path, struggling to find words, panic setting in. "H-how?" How could Constance have possibly known?

"Oh dear," Constance patted her cheek condescendingly, "I'd love to chat but I'm afraid Addy and I have to go." She tried to slip past but Cordelia stepped in front of her again.

Cordelia was frantic, looking for some type of leverage. She had to know what Constance knew. "You owe me," she stood her ground, "I know you've been taking silverware from me. Tell me and I won't do anything about it." A satisfied smirk crossed her face when she saw Constance scowl.

"Fine, come to my house tomorrow morning. I have a friend who will tell you all about your little," her face scrunched in disgust, "side-project. Shall you be bringing Hank?" She flashed a devilish smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She ignored Constance's remark though she felt herself blushing as she stepped out of the way.

Constance stopped just before shepherding Addy out of the door, "You know Cordelia, sometimes it's better just not to ask questions because when you do, you might find you don't always like the answer."

000

The rest of Cordelia's Sunday was a blur of mechanic interaction with Hank and when she awoke on Monday, she was filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Whether it was because Misty would be back at work or because she would finally learn more about her she couldn't tell. She dressed quickly and made her way downstairs, counting the seconds until Hank left for work. As soon as he left, Cordelia slipped out the backdoor, following the path that led from her house to Constance's. She rapped on Constance's back door, shifting her weight anxiously.

Constance answered, offering her a nod and tight smile as she led her in. "Cordelia Foxx, meet Billie Dean Howard." Cordelia gave her a quick smile, confused as to why the woman's presence was necessary for their meeting. Constance let out a laugh, "The woman has no manners," she shook her head, "Billie is a gifted medium. She's going to shed some light on the situtation."

Cordelia peered at the woman, unable to stop herself from laughing uncomfortably, "Uh," she cleared her throat, "Why do we need a medium?"

Billie Dean took out a cigarette, leaning forward as Constance flicked out her lighter. She lazily took a drag, "You might want to take a seat." She gestured to the chair before her, the last wisps of smoke escaping her mouth as she spoke.

Cordelia frowned lightly but obliged, pulling out the chair as Billie Dean admired her nails. "Okay, I'm sitting..." she tangled her hands in her lap, anxiously bouncing her leg as Constance joined them at the table, bringing them each a cup of tea.

"That maid of yours is dead," Billie Dean spoke nonchalantly, flicking the ash off of her cigarette before taking another drag. Her eyes narrowed as Cordelia laughed, "You think I'm kidding? She's dead. A spirit."

"Uh," Cordelia nervously chewed on her lip when she saw she was the only one laughing, "You're serious? This can't be real." She got up from her chair only to be pushed back down by Constance's hand on her shoulder.

The older woman took a sip of tea, "I assume you're a smart woman Cordelia, so how is it you can you be so arrogant as to believe there is only one reality you're able to see?"

"I don't believe it," she shook her head. "She's alive...I-I've," she blushed, remembering Misty's body pressed up against hers, "I've felt her, touched her." Cordelia felt like her mind was reeling; Constance had to be playing a sick joke on her.

"Ah, but that house," Constance vaguely pointed to Cordelia's house, "Will make you a believer. Haven't you felt it? The spirits?"

Cordelia laid her head in her hands trying to make some sort of sense of the thoughts swirling around her mind. She had felt it; like there were eyes always watching her, constantly getting shivers as though someone was breathing down her neck.

"You're confused, overwhelmed," Billie Dean snubbed out her cigarette, tendrils of smoke swirling into the air, "I get it. That's why I'm here."

"How?" Cordelia spoke, her words muffled through her hands, "How is she still here?"

"There are some who have an understandably violent and vengeful reaction to being murdered and they can't move on until they get there revenge. Then there are others, like Misty, who are stuck. She can't move on because there is something keeping her there, in that house. What's keeping her there, I'm not sure." Constance fidgeted uneasily, knowing fully well why Misty was stuck; she had killed her when she found her running around with her husband and now Misty's bones were buried in the backyard, keeping her there.

Cordelia looked up, eyes flickering between Constance and Billie Dean, "This has to be a set up." She scoffed, glaring at Constance, "Very funny. You got your revenge, keep the damn silverware."

"Who is Myrtle?" Billie Dean reached forward cradling Cordelia's hands in her own, "Does that name mean anything to you?"

Cordelia froze, goosebumps rising up her arms at the name. She couldn't help but feel tears sting her eyes as she thought about the woman who had truly been her mother before she passed.

"My sweet baby bird..." Billie Dean spoke softly, tilting her head, "Is that what she called you? your mother?"

"I- No," Cordelia shook her head, tears trickling down her face, "I can't do this." She excused herself from the table and left through the back door without another word to either of the woman. She couldn't help but feel angry as she kicked up leaves, walking back to her house. She didn't sign up for any of this. If she would've just left Hank, none of this would've happened. She hated this house, she hated Hank, and she hated everything about this new start. Angrily, she ripped open her door, only to have her anger intensified upon seeing Misty on all fours, "cleaning" the kitchen floor.

Misty looked over her shoulder upon hearing the door open, "Hi Mrs. Foxx." She emphasized the Foxx, biting her lip and arching a brow.

Cordelia tried to ignore her, hands balled into tight fists as she walked around Misty. She brewed herself a cup of tea and even though her back was turned to Misty, the younger woman still managed to get her attention, humming softly. The throaty rumble of Misty humming only served to piss her off more. She turned, tea in hand, ready to straight up fire Misty but the words caught in her throat. It seemed that every time she saw her, the hem of Misty's dress got shorter and now with her on all fours, Cordelia could see everything; the black panties she saw stealing away her words. "You should really get a longer uniform," she muttered, gripping her cup of tea just a bit too hard.

"Why," Misty wriggled her bottom coyly, looking over at Cordelia,"Ya don't like it?"

"No," Cordelia nearly growled, placing her tea on the counter and taking two strides over to Misty, "Get out." She pointed at the door, "Now."

Misty stood up and pouted. "Did Constance get your panties in a twist?" She leaned into Cordelia, drawing a finger down her sternum, "Because ya know I can untwist them."

"Get away from me," Cordelia pushed against Misty's chest, fighting against the urge to actually pull her closer.

"Mmm," Misty fell back a few steps but came right back, grinning wildly at the reaction she was getting from Cordelia,"I like it rough."

"Shut up." she went again to push Misty but the younger woman was quicker, grabbing Cordelia's wrists and spinning them around to push her against the wall, trapping her there. Cordelia hit the wall hard, letting out a groan.

"Ya look real sexy when you're mad Cordelia," Misty purred into her ear, holding her wrists against the wall.

"Let go," Cordelia grunted even though she barely fought against Misty's grip. She shivered, lower belly burning when Misty's hot breath hit the sensitive shell of her ear.

"Or what?" Misty grinned wickedly, "Ya gonna kill me?" Her smile grew at the mortified expression she received from Cordelia. She wiped the expression from the woman's face, pecking her quickly on the lips.

Cordelia blinked, shocked and breathless from that little kiss. It was the only thing that had felt right since she got to this new house. Fuck Hank, Fuck this house, Fuck constance. She ripped her hands from Misty's grasp, only to tangle them in the younger woman's hair, tugging her in for a harsh kiss.