A/N: Hey, I've had this chapter written down on paper for a few days now, but I've been so busy that I haven't had time to type it up. So at 8:28 am this morning I was up typing. Mad right? I was also listening to two (amazing) songs while I was writing this chapter, Skinny Love-Birdy & Bloodstream- Stateless. If any of you are Vampire Diaries fans, you would probably remember the songs from being on the show. Check them out! (:

I hope your all enjoying this story as much as I am writing it!

Thank you for all your reviews, keep em' coming!

She took a seat on the brown leather soda next to Randy. She allowed the distance between them. Mickie took a quick look around the room, and noticed that it hadn't really changed much except for the different furniture. She could still remember having the red walls when she was little. A shiver ran down her spine, and she shut her eyes hard.

Memories of sitting in the room with her mum and dad watching television or playing games started to spill in to her mind.

"The tickle monster is coming to get you!" Her father said, crawling towards her.

"No daddy!" Mickie screamed, erupting in to a fit of giggles.

"You better run, or he's gonna get you!"

"What's all this noise?" Her mother said, coming in to the living room.

"Mummy, daddy's gonna get me!"

"Oh no! What are you going to do?"

"Hide me Mummy!" Mickie said, moving to stand behind her.

"But what's the fun in that when I can be tickling you too?" Her mum smiled, turning round to look at Mickie and tickle her belly.

Mickie tried to shake them away, but they weren't budging. Opening her eyes back up she saw Randy frowning at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just got a bit of a headache." She lied.

"You sure?" Randy asked, concerned.

"Positive."

Randy nodded his head and turned to his laptop that was sitting on the coffee table. Moving his fingertips against the mouse the screen lit up, but something caught Mickie's eye. She was faced with what looked like the front of a newspaper article.

House of Death. Mother murdered in Kents Hill Road.

"I'll get rid of this." Randy said.

It took a moment for Mickie to register what she was seeing. The words were shocking enough, but in the middle of the page was a picture of her mum. A smiling photograph of her mum from years before.

"I'll shut it down." Randy began moving the mouse over to the corner of the screen, clicking it shut. Mickie let out a shaky breath, her eyes still glued to the computer screen. He turned to her and looked puzzled, his forehead crinkling.

"It's just something I'm researching. Sorry, has it upset you?"

"Open it up."

"Not if it's gonna upset you."

"Please, just open it up."

Randy opened the document and the newspaper page was in front of her once again. She looked at the headline, at the words, at the photograph of her mum. Underneath it, the caption read Elizabeth James, 34-year-old mother of one. Mickie felt her breath catch in her throat, and looked at her mum's pretty face. Kelly had said that she looked like her, that she had the same mouth, eyes and hair. But Mickie could never really see the resemblance.

"I'll close it down." Randy said, and the screen changed again. Mickie stood up.

"I should go."

"I've spooked you. I shouldn't of left this on the screen. This house has a dark past. I didn't think to mention it. You don't just tell your guests what kind of stuff has happened in your house before you lived there. Would you?"

She stared at him, her face stiff.

"This house– my mum left it for me. It has a terrible past. There was a murder here. I wanted to sell it when my mum passed, but it reminded me of her and I just couldn't do it."

"And you're fine with living here?" Mickie asked.

"Yes. I mean obviously I wish it hadn't happened at all, but I'm all right living here, I probably shouldn't tell you anymore. It's a bit squeamish. But it didn't happen in this room. It was upstairs in the main bedroom."

She knew that. She knew the whole story better than him.

"This man killed his wife here."

"I really need to go," She said, moving towards the living room door. "It's getting late."

"It's a horrible story. Maybe I shouldn't have told you. It was eleven years ago. People die in houses all the time."

That stung. It felt like Mickie had just been punched in the chest.

"What I don't get is why you're researching it?"

"Because if I know everything that happened, I can come to terms with it. If I think there's hidden stud it will make me feel uneasy able living here."

Mickie nodded. It sounded like a sensible approach.

"I'm sorry Mickie, I can't think of what to say."

"I just have to go."

In seconds, she was walking in to the hallway and heading towards the door. Turning round she looked to the top of the stairs. Suddenly she heard a high-pitched scream. It sounded like the person was in pain, like the person was her mum, when her dad..

Mickie snapped her head to the side to look at Randy who was standing beside her.

"Did you hear that?" She asked, eyes wide open.

"Hear what?"

"The scre— er, nothing. Don't worry."

"It's history Mickie. Every house has history; births, deaths, happiness, sadness."

"I need to get home. Kelly will be wondering where I am."

Out of nowhere, the dog was beside her; it's tail-wagging, tongue hanging out. She let her hand ruffle its fur and then turned to open the front door.

"Will you come again? No, stupid question. Not now that I've spooked you, you'll never come here again."

Mickie heard a beep and took her mobile phone out of her pocket. The name Kelly flashed on the screen.

"Look," Randy said looking upset. "Will you at least let me give you my mobile number?"

She felt bad. He wasn't to know. She handed him her mobile phone, and he began to key in his number. When he finished he handed it back.

"Do you know who it was who died here?" She asked.

"Just a women. Apparently, some reports said that her child saw the murder happen but they don't know for sure," He gave a small smile. "The man that killed the women is in prison for life though."

She nodded. Good.

"Will you ring me?"

Mickie leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe." She said, opening the door and walking down the pathway and in to the street.

I need to know everything, he'd said. Would he really like to know what happened there in that house?

One evening, when she was eleven, she woke up to hear her parents arguing. She walked in to her parent's room just in time to see her father stab her mother in the chest with a knife.

Her own father, Robert James.