When she's well enough to care for herself, Violet makes her way down the wooden steps that creaks whenever her ballet flat hits the step. One shoulder holds the wait of pink-and-white diaper bag, while her hands carry the car seat with absolute care. Violet knows what she has to do: she has to make Tate believe nothing has changed so he wouldn't do anything to keep her, or Adelaide, trapped in this house. If Addy wasn't in the picture she'd confront him, bravely, tell him how she knows everything and tell him how she feels before banishing him for good. This isn't possible when you have a newborn child in the equation.
There's also that silver thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, her mother is mistaken and the man in the rubber suit isn't Tate at all. Maybe it's like one of those bad soap operas where Tate has an evil twin? Any option is better than what she's faced with, now, but who's she kidding anyway: she probably would've risked her daughter's life by raising her in a house that doesn't want her.
The newborn's fussing breaks her out of her thoughts and Violet makes her way to the sofa, placing the car seat on the coffee table and shrugs off the large diaper bag to give her shoulder some relief. Addy's been fed, changed, burped, and Vivian taught Violet how to bathe her, as well. Attention is what she wants and already unable to deny Addy anything; Violet scoops the infant into her arms, chest against chest, rocking back and forth. "Getting out of the house so soon?" Inquires Tate, causing Violet to give a tiny start, before she remembers herself and gives the tiniest shrugs. "I wanted to take her to the doctor, or something, you know? Make sure she's okay." The lie is believable. It comes out of her mouth so smoothly it's like she thought of it on the spot.
He believes her and regardless if this is the right thing to do, it's breaking her heart.
"Wanna hold her?" Violet offers, softly. He nods, almost like a little boy being given a much coveted gift. Addy's sigh is almost blissful, her tiny hands grabs ahold of the dead teenager's cardigan in fascination. "Here, let me take a picture."
"Can ghosts photograph?"
Violet shrugs. "I mean, we're going to have a photo album, might as well start with one of her and her dad, right?"
She's fighting the tears when he practically lights up at that thought. I love you, she thinks. I'm sorry you made me do this.
A few snaps here-and-there of father and daughter and one, as suggested by Tate, of the three of them together, and a trivial diaper change later and Adelaide's asleep. It's noon. The plane to Florida leaves in two hours. She has to go. "I'll call you to tell you about the results, okay?" She tells him as he walks her out. He looks so peaceful, so happy, and she once again wishes that he never raped her mother and lied to her in the first place. There's a cab waiting for her, but the lies keep coming: "I had to call one," Violet explains, "I think someone jacked my dad's car, or he just up and left…" He kisses her passionately.
"I love you," he tells her, before bending down to place a kiss on Adelaide's forehead, murmuring the same sentiments.
She wishes he means it, but after what she's learned she isn't one hundred percent certain he can.
"I love you, too," she replies before heading into the Taxi, making sure Adelaide's buckled inside safely, and drives off. He watches her leave. She knows because she looks back one, just once, and quickly snaps her head forward when she feels hot tears on her cheeks.
"LAX Airport, please."
The cab driver quirks a brow at Violet; "Isn't she young to fly?"
"She's tough." Violet says, smiling towards the sleeping bundle. "She doesn't buy the bullshit other babies can't handle."
Her father sees her and Adelaide off. Michael—what Constance named Tate's son, not her father—is with Constance. He promises he'll fly out after he gets things settled with the house and her mother. Violet wants to call bullshit, but sometimes bullshit is needed in the most desperate of circumstances. She hugs him, tightly, before boarding on the flight that'll take her to her Aunt Jill's and far, far away from the Murder House as possible.
She isn't that shocked, three days later, when she hears that her dad committed suicide.
I want to thank everyone for your amazing reviews! So sorry for how short this chapter is; only a few more installments before the end.
Seriously - thank you all so much! :)