Chapter 7: Innocence

1983

Constance lay on the couch, passed out. An empty bottle on the coffee table and an empty glass, loosely resting in her hand. Newhart on the television as Tate played with his toy truck. This was a normal occurrence to him. The only thing different was the blood that was on his mother's dress. He didn't really question it though. It was bad to wake mommy up when she was drinking.

He just went on playing with his toy. The only other thing in the house to make any noise was the television. Somehow, that made him more comfortable. It was when the place was silent that he would get scared. Those were the times that he would think of the bad stuff here.

Nora had told him that there was really nothing to worry about. She had taught him to just tell them to go away. Now, he was constantly doing that. It seemed like it was happening more and more lately, as if the ghosts here were becoming more and more comfortable with him.

"Be careful, you might wake her!" Amelia harshly whispered. She was standing out in the hallway as she poked her head into the living room. "You don't want her to get mad at you like she did my mommy!" the little girl warned. There was a certain amount of fear in her eyes.

Tate quizzically looked up to her. "She's drinking, she won't hear anything unless we yell," he explained.

Amelia looked over to the couch and then motioned for Tate to come join her. He obliged. "Did you know that she killed my mommy?" she implored.

Tate just nodded. He had seen her dispose of the body. He didn't truly understand what he had just witnessed, but he knew that Constance told him to never speak of it again. Ever. It couldn't have been too bad though, he still saw Moira everyday. He still talked to her. Yes, it looked painful when he saw the eyes shot out, but other than that, he didn't understand the true consequences.

"I don't want her to kill you too. Cus' now my mommy can never ever leave here," Amelia informed him.

"I don't think she will. She tells me that I'm her perfect one," Tate responded. That was one title that he never the irony of until he was much older. "You wanna play with me upstairs? It'll be further away from my mommy," he suggested.

"Okay!"

Tate grabbed Amelia's hand and lead her as they ran up the stairs together. They went up to Constance's room. They would go up there from time to time and snoop around. There always seemed to be something interesting in there.

"Look!" Amelia squealed as she found a pearl necklace on the dresser.

Tate smiled to her and then went ahead to open up the drawer. There was nothing unusual at first. It was just a sock drawer. He had a feeling though. There had to be something in there worth finding. That was when he came across it. It was shiny, it was silver, it was small, and little did he know, it was loaded. "Here's the weapon she used," he announced, holding it up.

Amelia nervously looked over. "I would put that away if I were you," she cautioned him. Without realizing it, she had backed away from him.

"Don't worry about it," Tate laughed as he studied the gun. It interested him. It felt, right, in his hands. The first hint of the thrill that he had ever received from murder. Without even really registering what he was doing, he pointed the gun to Amelia.

"Tate!" Moira yelled from the doorway.

It was too late though, he pulled the trigger. The blood splattering as Amelia fell back and hit the floor. Her tiny little body slowly soaking in her own blood.

Tate just stood there, staring. Feeling nothing.

Ooo

1994

Constance closed the door and lowered her head, her hand still holding onto the knob. "I know why you did it!" she called out. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked around the room. "Still too good to show yourself to me? Where was that shyness when Hugo was around?"

Moira stepped out of the kitchen and stood there, staring to her. "Madam?" she questioned.

Constance looked to her with disgust. "Don't madam me you tramp. Just tell me why you did it," she ordered.

"I didn't do it. I promise you," Moria assured her. "Amelia did this time."

Constance raised an eyebrow to her. This was certainly interesting to hear. "Throwing your daughter under the bus?" she asked. "Surely even you couldn't sink that low," she stated and then started for the living room.

Moira just stood there. It was those very words that hit her. If she wouldn't have had Amelia staying there with her, she would have lived. She would be in high school right now. Instead, she decided to keep her there. The one mistake that she would always have to deal with and face.

ooo

Violet trudged her way down the hall to her first period class. This morning, she just didn't care as much.

It was strange though. Stephanie had a big mouth, and she was one of the more popular kids, yet, no one asked Violet about what happened. There were no weird stares in the hall. No one even seemed to act any differently around her. Maybe she explained to them it was all Tate? No, there would still be questions.

Before she entered the classroom, she spotted Stephanie sitting by herself. She looked worn and tired. Sunglasses and a big floppy hat. She was smoking, something that she had been against a few days ago. Whatever it was that was down in that basement, it had changed her. Whether or not it was for the better, they were about to find out.

Violet watched her for a moment before heading into the room. This morning, she had contemplated skipping, but she had to be there for a quiz. Besides, there were plenty of seats there, she didn't have to sit by Tate, if he even bothered to show up. There was no real reason for him to come anymore, she knew that.

Upon entering the room, her eyes went directly to the empty seats in the back. She let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn't here, waiting for her. Something that she found slightly concerning though, she was a little disappointed he wasn't there. Not the murderer, but the boy that she had been talking to. Although she didn't know him all that well, she felt like a huge part of her life out here had been taken away from her.

"Where's the morbid kid this morning?"

Violet sat down and noticed the girl in front of her turned around and waiting for an answer. She didn't even know this girl's name. How did she know that her and Tate liked each other?

"I'm not his keeper," Violet replied.

The girl laughed to her. "You mean to tell me that I see you two together all the time and then suddenly you hate him?" she asked, almost condescendingly.

Why did she care? Violet was about to call her out on her nosiness, but the boy next to the annoying girl leaned over and grabbed her shoulder.

"Jacky! Stop! She probably found out," he explained to her. And that was all it took. Jacky turned back around and they both left Violet alone.

Violet's eyes suddenly widened. Her curiosity was sparked. "What did I find out?" she cautiously implored.

The boy turned back to her, looking as if she had to be kidding. "You really don't know?" he inquired. It was pretty much assumed, that if you knew Tate, you knew the rumors that were about him.

Violet shook her head. "I just got here," she impatiently reminded him. If it had anything to do with what happened with Taylor, she wanted to know.

The bell rang. "All right everyone!" Mrs. Hartley began as she stood up from her desk. "Everything cleared off your desk except for a pen. No talking."

The boy just turned back to face forward. Violet sighed. What could have possibly happened around here that people wouldn't want to tell her about? Knowing how most people were around here, it had to be something about a designer this or that getting ruined. That was only what she told herself though. There was a hint of fear in Jacky's eyes when he suggested that she had found out. There had to be something deeply wrong with Tate. Maybe, it was better that she left him when she did.

Ooo

Tate sat up in the attic, blankly staring towards the ground. He had to do something to get Violet's affection back. He had to show her that he didn't murder Taylor. It was the house.

It sounded crazy though. The house did it. Who would ever believe that?

"It's hopeless. I would just try and forget about this girl. All she's doing is causing you problems."

Tate looked over to the opening to the attic and saw Charles standing there. "Shouldn't you be cutting something up or something like that?" he sneered. He needed to be alone right now. He also didn't need anyone telling him to just forget about Violet. There was no way that he could possibly ever, just forget about her. This was someone that he actually had some feelings for, he couldn't just let her go.

He could let her go. Not this time though. This time she left because she thought she saw something that didn't happen. She didn't see the true events before her. If she would have told him though that she was happier without him, he would leave her in a heartbeat. He wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.

Charles caught onto the hint and nodded. "Take it from me. Once a woman thinks you're insane, they'll always think that way. Nora still blames me for everything that happened," he told him.

"At least she talks to you," Tate replied. "Violet probably won't even look at me now."

"That's only because she knows she's partly to blame. Besides, when you're stuck in the same house with someone all this time, you decide that its pretty hard to hold a grudge," he explained.

"It's not all that hard to hold one," Amelia stated as she appeared in the corner. She always followed him, whether he knew it or not.

"I didn't know what I was doing!" he yelled defensively.

"Doesn't mean that what happened is okay," she argued. "That's why I punished you," she confessed.

Tate scrambled to his feet. "What are you talking about?" he desperately questioned.

"I was the one that killed Taylor. You knew that," she innocently answered.

Tate just stared to her. It was her fault that Violet was mad at him. Without hesitation, he started quickly for the door. He had to get out of there. He had to get away from Amelia, and he had to go talk to Violet.