CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clearly Isabel was rattled by everything: the news, the near tragedy. It seemed like she couldn't be comforted. But Constance did her best, just holding her close and kissing the top of her head repeatedly.

"Sweetheart, it's alright," Constance murmured to her, doing what she had not gotten to do for almost seventeen years: comfort her youngest daughter. "It's alright; you're safe. It's going to be just fine."

That was a lie and Isabel knew it. Things weren't going to be just fine. Things were a mess. An absolute mess that couldn't be picked up. With her mind racing and heart thudding, Isabel pulled away from Constance. For a split second, she missed the contact. But the feeling did not last long.

"No, no it isn't. It's not going to be 'just fine,'" she argued. This was bullshit! It had never been a secret to Isabel that she had been adopted. But to learn that Constance Langdon was her mother? It was beyond shocking. And she wasn't sure how to react. Isabel didn't actually want to be angry. Anger was the first emotion that made itself known though.

With Adelaide, Constance always ran out of patience quickly. But with Isabel, that didn't seem to be the case. Did that make her a bad mother? Constance didn't believe so. Adelaide was frustrating to deal with because how she had been born. Isabel was perfect in her eyes and Constance could easily deal with perfection.

"Why are you so upset about this?" Constance asked calmly. It was a serious question. What was distressing her? What could be done to stop it? What could Momma do to make her darling girl feel better?

Isabel ran a hand through her hand, pushing it out of her face. "I… I don't know. Because of everything? Does it matter?" That was a stupid thing to say. Of course it mattered what was upsetting her. But Isabel wasn't thinking straight.

This was too much at once. The party that was still going on, finding out that Constance was her mother, and being almost hit by a car; it was just too much. Isabel felt a headache start to come on. And Constance could see that this was a lot for Isabel to handle. She felt almost bad about having to tell her more.

"There's something else you should know," the older woman began.

But Isabel interrupted. "I don't wanna know anything." Not right now. It was too much to take in.

Well, that was just too bad. Constance went on anyway. "Please dear, it's important. It's about who you are. I'm sure you know of the Salem Witch Trials?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" To Isabel, Constance was starting to sound crazy.

Constance sighed. This was a lot more difficult to explain than she thought it would be. "Oh hell, please Isabel just come inside and let me make you some tea and we can talk about this properly. I know this situation is shit. But… but let me just look at you for a second." She dared to put a hand on Isabel's cheek.

God, her daughter… this was the child she was supposed to have. This was the angel she had been blessed with and had turned away.

Isabel stepped away from Constance's touch. "I can't do this. Not now. I can't." She was in shock. Not much was registering anymore. She turned and started walking down the sidewalk.

But Constance would not just stand there and watch. She wanted to hold her baby girl close. She had nearly been hit by a car for Christ's sake! And Isabel needed to know about how she was. She needed to know about the power she may possess.

First thing was first: Derek. He needed to be made aware of this. Constance would make sure that he fully understood the situation and that he fully understand that she wanted her daughter back.

And she wouldn't take no for an answer.

""''''"""""'""""

Isabel sat on the park bench, feeling like shit. She wanted to change out of her costume and get into pajamas and just eat an entire gallon of ice cream. But the party was still going on at her house and she very much doubted that she'd be able to get them to leave before midnight.

She used to be worried about someone going into the basement and coming across Thaddeus. Now a dark, bitter part of her wanted that to happen. Maybe it would scare everyone away and she could be alone.

The girl looked at her arm and stared at the bite mark that was well hidden thanks to Chad and the wonders he could do with makeup.

"Having a miserable night?"

Isabel turned her gaze to a stranger who had spoken; a man who was terribly burned on half of his body.

Seeing the bit of fear in her eyes, the man chuckled softly, sitting down next to her on the bench. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I know your dad. He and I talked about his latest book one afternoon. The name's Larry."

The name struck of a chord of familiarity with Isabel but her mind never made the connection that this man named Larry was Lawrence Harvey, the man Constance said was her father.

Isabel relaxed a little after this introduction. However, she still wasn't completely at ease. Not because of Larry's presence, but because of what she had just been through.

"You seem like you've just been through something miserable." He wanted to comfort her. But he didn't dare. As far as he knew, Isabel had no idea about him being her father. Not only that, but he was well aware of his horrible disfigurement because of that little shit Tate Langdon. An arm around the shoulder might terrify her.

Isabel couldn't help but smirk and she shook her head. "Larry, you have no idea."

So they talked. Isabel refrained from using names. And it felt nice to vent to a stranger. She did not tell him that her house was haunted. There was no need for him to know that. But she told him how she had a Halloween party that she ended up feeling out of place at even though it was her party and how she learned that her neighbor was her mother.

This surprise Larry. Yet he did not dare tell her that he was her father despite her now knowing Constance was her mother. Isabel had clearly been through too much in one night. He would wait his turn to tell her the truth.

""'"""""'"""'

Derek had come home at one in the morning as planned. The house was a mess, as he expected. Isabel was asleep on the couch and he never suspected her of leaving her own party. He had only smiled at her sleeping figure and then went upstairs to his own room.

When daylight appeared, all of the ghosts trekked back to the Murder House; their prison.

"You look like you've had one hell of a night," Gladys remarked to Tate as they walked up to the front door.

Tate didn't say anything. His hair was a mess, his clothes torn. A group of kids had gotten to him, kids who were telling him to admit to what he did. But he had no idea as to what they had been talking about.

Moira walked alongside Chad and Patrick. "You two better help me with cleaning up after the party you designed."

Chad sighed. "Fine."

And so, they were trapped again; stuck for another three-hundred-and-sixty-four days.

Isabel had woken up and gone to school, as if nothing from the night before had happened. But it did happen. And when Isabel was out of the house, Constance made her way over, knocking on the door.

Derek answered. "Oh, Constance, what can I do for you?" he asked her, head tilted to the side slightly. He hoped that she wasn't there to complain about the party from last night.

Her earnest expression wasn't very reassuring. "Mr. Noble I do believe you and I need to have a very serious talk."