A loud crash from downstairs woke me up. I shot up, my heart pounding in my chest.

My first thought was that perhaps Caper or Draco had knocked something over, but the thought was disproved when I became aware that the two creatures were in bed with me.

I slid out of my bed and reached under it. My fingers curled around the hilt of a broadsword that I had bought a few years ago.
I tugged the weapon out from under the bed and removed it from it's sheath.

The sharp metal glinted in the pale light of the moon, coming from the window as I walked out of my bedroom.

My bare feet padded silently down the stairs, my knuckles white from gripping my sword so hard.

The figure of a man came into view as I entered the living room, he had his back turned to me and was picking up my books from off the coffee table.

I quietly approached the intruder and pressed the tip of my blade to the nape of his neck. "Turn around slowly, I am not afraid to kill you." I growled as menacingly as I could manage.

The man turned around as I said. "You have horrible decorating taste!"

I blinked my eyes in confusion. "What?" I asked.

He strode confidently away from my blade and flipped on the light.

He was a dark haired man with soft brown eyes. "I said you have horrible decorating tastes!" He gestured at my cheap, floral print couch and flea market coffee table. "Honestly. How could you do this to my house?" He murmured.

"Actually it's my house. Who the fuck are you, Queer Eye for the Teen?" I hissed, trying to make a sarcastic joke.

"I'm Chad. And this is my house, little girl. Not yours." His eyes hardened, and for a moment I was frightened of him.

I shook off the fear and pointed my sword at him again. "Get the fuck out or I'll call the police." I threatened him.

He made no move to leave so I turned to grab the house phone off the coffee table, when I turned back, he was gone.

I walked into the kitchen and put the phone back on the charging dock and then searched the house for my intruder.

All the doors were locked, and there seemed to be no sign of a break in.

I knew I hadn't dreamt it...

I moved back into the kitchen, wide awake now, and sat my sword on the island as I began digging through the fridge for a late night snack to calm my mind.

As I pulled out a stick of string cheese, I heard the sound of creaking footsteps coming towards me.

I dropped the cheese and grabbed my sword and spun around, pressing it against Tate's neck.

Tate's eyes widened as he held his hands up in surrender. "What are you doing?" He asked calmly, a smug smile crossing his features as I removed my blade from his neck.

"Sorry... There was some weird guy in the house a bit ago... Chad I think.. I'm still on edge." I admitted.

He took the sword out of my hands. "Fucking queer." He mumbled, shaking his head before looking at me. "You're alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah... Hey. No, wait. How did you get in here?"

His lips curled up into that smirk he wore so well. "You left a door open." His explanation was vague, and clearly untruthful.

I reached to grab my sword back, but he moved to keep it out of my reach. "You said you wouldn't lie to me, Tate." I crossed my arms over my chest.

His smirk faded away at my words, his expression becoming a frown. "I'm not lying... I won't lie to you, Fox."

"Then tell me how you got in. And why?" I made another grab for my weapon, and this time he let me take it out of his grasp.

Tate was quiet for a moment, as if he was debating something internally. "You wouldn't believe the truth. Because if you would, you'd already have figured it out on your own."

"Fine. Be cryptic and creepy and don't tell me. I don't care." I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him.

He allowed me to push and shove him towards the front door, which I opened and pointed a finger out at the darkness beyond my door. "Get out, Tate. Leave."

He lightly shook his head. "You know the truth, you just have to accept it. Stop rationalising things you can't rationalise!" He stepped out the door and I slammed it in his face.

I locked the door and strode back up to my room, where I put the sword back under my bed and laid down.

"Internet search Tate." Came a whisper in the dark.

I quickly reached under by bed and grabbed my sword again, pulling it out. "Who's in my bedroom? Show yourself!"

A girl who looked to be one or two years younger than me appeared by my bedside. "Internet search him." She urged again.

I frowned. "Who the hell are you? How did you get in here!?"

She sighed. "I'm Violet Harmon. I lived here once. Just search him, you'll understand. Or search for me."

Harmon. That name struck a chord of familiarity.

And then I remembered.

Harmon was the name of the family who lived here before me, three years ago. According to police reports, Violet had run away with her newborn brother.

"You kidnapped your own brother after your father committed suicide!" I gasped.

"No. I'm dead. So is Tate and Chad, who you met a little bit ago! Get with the programme before the house kills you too!" With those words, she vanished.

I stared into the empty space that she had only just been in seconds ago. Maybe I was in shock, but I was deadly calm as I walked over to my desk and booted up my laptop.

I pulled up the Google web page and typed in Tate's name.

In minutes, it was revealed to me that Tate had shot up Westfield High in 1994, killing 15 students.
A S.W.A.T team had then been provoked into shooting Tate dead within the very house I was in now.

I slowly turned the laptop off and turned around, meeting Violet's gaze once again.

"You can't trust him, Fox. He's done more than that, too. He also murdered Chad and Patrick, the homosexual couple that lived here before my family, set Larry Harvey on fire, and raped and impregnated my mother." Violet put her hand on my shoulder as she spoke.

I slowly sat down on the edge of my bed, taking in everything she was telling me.

"You're not safe in this house, Fox." The chestnut haired woman I remember dreaming about a few nights ago, which obviously wasn't a dream, appeared.

She was holding a baby, and had a man with dark hair and a kind smile at her side. "These are my parents, and my little brother." Violet explained.

"Hello, Fox. I'm Ben Harmon, this is my wife Vivian and our son, Nicholas." He smiled at me.

"Umm. Hello." I wasn't sure what to say to them, seeing as there were dead people talking to me. "Is that Tate's kid?" I pointed to the baby in Vivian's arms.

"I had twins, one was Tate's, Constance has him, and Nicholas belongs to Ben. I died in child labour, Nicholas was a still born." Viv explained.

I nodded a few times, slowly still trying to grasp everything. And silently praying I hadn't gone insane.

"Look, Fox, you need to get out of this house. Everyone who dies here, is trapped in this place. And not all of us are nice. Some wish only to inflict their own suffering and pain, onto the living. Do you understand?" Ben Harmon asked me.

I rubbed my face with both hands, nodding to him as I did so. "I understand." I said tiredly. "But I won't be run out of my home, the only place I've got, by dead people." I balled my fists. "I'll exorcise the lot of you, if I need to. But I won't be driven away."

The Harmon family seemed to share a look of worry. "We thought we could overcome the house too, and look at us." Vivian said.

Violet nodded in agreement to her mother. "Nothing will work. I even tried the Croatoan, Roanoke spell. Nothing works. This house is evil."

"You haven't tried everything. I'm not giving up, even if it does kill me. This is my home! And you deserve freedom from this." I was adamant. I had nothing and nowhere else after all.

Plus, even if I left, I didn't have the money to go anywhere else, and even if I did, some other family would just buy the place and be in danger too.

So it was decided. I would make friends with the kind spirits of the house, as for the others, they'd be the first I got rid of.