"If you have to dig to find yourself, you are probably dead."
― Jarod Kintz

Nothing can change death. There is no way he could go back decades and erase the bullet riddled bodies strewn across Westfield's hallowed halls or the ones which brought upon his own his demise. Nor could she go back and regurgitate all the tiny pills she forced down her larynx. Both had to live with the aftermath forever. There was no escape from this wretched house, filled with damned souls and an overwhelming darkness.

Tate had hoped he would be able to keep the secret of her being dead from Violet for a long time. He coaxed her with kisses and promises of spending their days playing games to distract her from attending her classes. It was impossible to foresee her parents urgency to vacate the Murder House and head back to their beloved East Coast. Now, they believed their daughter was experiencing a terrible rebellious face and were unsure how to make her leave the house. If only they knew Violet would only be able to leave one day a year, and she would be forced to return when the dawn of the next day began.

Violet needed the affirmation she was really dead. It was hard to feel dead when she could look in the mirror and she herself as she had every day. She looked no different. The only anomaly arose when it came to self mutilation. She tried her hardest to quicken the blade against her alabaster skin with the same results. The blood would vanish, and there would be no trace of the wounds she had created just moments before. Violet had grown accustomed to the scars which danced across her arms, the taste of copper on her fingertips as she licked off the excess blood. Feeling dead was difficult when one doesn't know what it feels like to really be alive.

So, when she begged Tate, "Show me." Violet was more than ready to be shown she was dead and possibly feel as though she had lived some kind of worthwhile life when she had blood pumping through her veins and air flowing through her lungs.

Violet lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of her mouth in little rings. She smiled at the way they rose towards the ceiling and faded away. Tate laid sprawled out of the bed next to her with his hands crossed over his chest, he watched her with cautionary eyes and waited for his lover to speak.

"What?" Violet questioned with her attitude, inhaling the carcinogen filled smoke. Not that it mattered. She could not get cancer since she was already dead. Fuck, she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Nothing could kill her now.

"Do you trust me?" Tate asked, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to show Violet she had no reason to believe he was lying or hiding things from her. He better than anyone knew how manipulative the darkness could be. How it took over and destroyed everything until it was too late to salvage anything.

Violet examined his face and smiled, blowing more smoke through her lips. "I trust you more than anything in the world. I love you," she added, leaning over to kiss him softly.

He relished in the taste of nicotine on her lips and then pulled away. "I am going to show you now, Violet. Then you are free. Free from being tethered to me. We may have to spend forever in this house, but I won't force you to stay with me if it isn't what you want anymore. I will leave you alone if you want. I won's stop you, I promise."

Violet finished her cigarette, opening the window to toss the butt outside. She ran her hands through her long hair and replied, "I am ready, Tate."

She accepted his outstretched hand and followed him wordlessly down the hall, the staircase, and all the way into the wretched basement. Tate held her hand as though he would never get another chance and hold she would be able to handle what she was about to see. He was aware she may banish him after she saw, but he promised he would not stop her. Tate loved Violet, so he always wanted to place her before himself.

They ended up in a small room where Tate pulled on a string to illuminate the darkness. Violet gasped at the small door in the wall, watching as Tate pulled a chair to climb inside and slowly opened the small, creaky wooden door. There was only darkness and a foul odor which emerged from the small crawl space. He turned on the old flashlight hidden inside the entrance and then held out his hand to help Violet inside.

Violet looked back at the basement for a moment, wondering if her parents were wondering why she was down here when she was supposed to be at school. She rubbed her forehead to clear away the lightheadedness, the odd sensation she was going to pass out.

"Am I losing my mind?" she asked, walking over to climb onto the chair.

Tate only replied, "Come on" and helped her into the small tunnel. He led the way, using the flashlight to guide him. It was apparent to Violet he had been in the small confined space before, he seemed to know it like the back of his hand.

Violet crawled behind him, noting all the dust and broken windows leaning against the wall. She want to cringe at the dirt seeping under her nails and how the cement floor was wearing holes in the knees of her favorite tights. Tate turned and flashed the light on her for a second, but said nothing. He kept moving with purpose towards what he needed to show Violet, waiting to see how she was going to react.

Her hand suddenly brushed against a human skull and she screamed. She crawled faster, muttering, "This is place is so vile."

Tate stopped at a ledge and climbed down, then helped her. He told her, "This way" and moved forward a few paces.

Violet followed him, hoping she was not going to lose herself with this faintness overcoming her being.

Tate looked at her with sadness and moist eyes, "Close your eyes, Violet. Please. Everything will work out, alright? Please don't forget I love you." He briefly smiled and took her hand. She followed him with curiosity and fear, watching as they finally stopped.

Violet squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

Tate took a deep breath and said, "Okay, open your eyes."

Violet opened her eyes and stepped forward to look down the ledge where his flashlight shone. Her body shook and as she looked, terrible screams began to rise from her lungs.

The only problem was there was no much left of Violet's body. She had been dead for twenty years, rotting and festering the crawl space. Violet was becoming confused and lost in memories of the past.

Tate was unsure of what was happening to her, but perhaps showing Violet her remains and explaining to her how much time had passed – things would start to make sense again and they could

return to living some semblance of happily ever after.

He remembers the first time he took a flashlight into his hands and guided Violet through the dark, musty crawlspace. Dirt and decay of the house covered him and Violet as they journeyed towards the only thing he never wanted her to witness. Tate loved her, and he never wanted to hurt Violet. His willingness to do anything for her encompassed staging an elaborate suicide so she would believe they both died, she would believe they had died together and had been happy.

"I didn't want you to find out this way, Violet. You or your parents. I had this idea that if you *chose* to die... with me... you wouldn't be so sad. I never wanted you to see this. I'm so sorry, Violet."

There was something going on with Violet. Nothing was making sense anymore. The darkness had stuck its talons inside of Violet, sucking out her purity and leaving behind tainted evil.

But why was she reliving an event that happened two decades ago?

Violet kept screaming, not sure what she was really seeing. She screamed and her body convulsed violently. "No! NO! NOOO!" she repeated.

Tate gazed at her, wishing there was an easy way to do this. "Don't you understand, Violet? That is you down there. That is all is left of you –"

"Bodies don't decay that fast! Who is that?!" she demanded.

Now, something had snapped within Violet's mind and she thought they were back in 2011. She believed her parents were still around, and she had just died. Tate could not fathom why Violet was regressing back two decades to the day she found out she was dead.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

This time, he had no answer for the girl with the beautiful hair and ripped tights staring at him with so much hate in her eyes.