Chapter 7:
Constance had trouble climbing the stairs to her porch with the heavy shopping in her arms. Though she would never admit it, not even to herself, she was growing old and her strength wasn't close to what it had once been. It was no shame to weaken after the life she had lived, the troubles she had endured; but to her it would never do. So she never asked for anybody's help, never even hinting at the fact that she might indeed sometimes need some assistance.
She knew that behind her back the neighbours spoke of her- they always had, after all. The whispers were that she took young lovers to nurse her rather than please her in bed. But it was always the women who gossiped about her and she could hardly blame them: They'd seen her take one neighbours husband so who was to say that she wouldn't do it again?
Constance smiled to herself. Her eyes glinted wickedly. In truth, they were afraid of her. They had all witnessed the events of the past decades. Constance had been cursed in every way imaginable: her children had all been imperfect in some way or another, her husband had cheated on her, her son had caused much grief, as had her lovers, she had lost all of her children and the house she had lived in for many years. And yet, through all of this, she had survived and while others dropped dead all around her, she remained a fixture in the neighbourhood.
She sometimes wondered whether her true curse was to live, to witness more suffering with every day that passed.
The wind-chime in the tree next door sung its song in the breeze. Constance turned her head in the direction of the sound. All the shutters on the windows were closed and the façade was starting to look dirty. For months nobody but her had gone near the house. That made the neighbours talk, but she didn't waste any thoughts on them. They didn't understand. They thought they did, as stupid people always do, but none of them could even imagine what was truly going on next door.
Constance herself didn't even know everything about the house. Its secrets were of the kind that no living being was ever meant to understand. If anyone needed proof of a higher power, she thought, all they would have to do was step through the front door of a house down their street.
What she did hope, though, was to learn more about the house. To uncover some of its many secrets and she felt that the book she had found in the house would help her with the task.
She knew that it had been almost too conveniently placed; quite as if someone or something was waiting for her to find it, but she pushed aside that thought, preferring to think of herself as having been chosen to find the book.
She had become a victim to the flaw that all of humanity shared: Everyone wants to see themselves as superior to others, wishing to find out something that will put them outside of the group of humans and move them closer to some great truth that the world has possessed, yet never understood for millions of years.
Constance believed she had the means of attaining that closeness to "the truth" with the book. There was something about it that gave off a hint of something so mysterious, so guarded a secret, that to even have it written down gave off an aura of danger.
When she walked into her house, she kicked the door to close it. She walked into the kitchen and dropped the heavy shopping bags onto the table, all the while humming a tune to herself.
When she looked around, most cupboards were half empty. There were even some boxes on the ground. She had started to pack the day after baby Michael killed his baby sitter. She had been strangely proud of him for that, but she had also known that it was time to move on, move away. Her whole past was scattered along this street, everything she had ever been. But Constance knew that it was time to leave it all behind and the beautiful baby had been her turning point.
It had previously already been too dangerous to stay in the area: The police was still trying to figure out many details about the murders next door and with her general involvement in the Harmon family's concerns, they always came asking questions. She knew she was smart, that she could charm them, confuse them; but her charms wouldn't last forever, and though she was smart, she knew that sooner or later even she would have a slip-up. There was too much at stake to risk that. Constance may be proud and she loathed to be seen leaving the area, as though she were haunted by her past there, but she wasn't stupid. And most importantly, she had Michael to think of.
But she was confused about what she wanted. The book- it seemed like a sign of some kind. She knew she had to leave, but it was as if the book was compelling her to stay a little longer.
If Constance were to be honest with herself, she would find that what she wanted was to submit fully to the house's curse. She wanted eternity with her family, she wanted to stay near them. But what she didn't want was to be trapped. She had spent all her life in a sort of trap. She had been offered the key that would open it, but she had found comfort in the confines.
Constance had to choose between truth and freedom, not realising that the two were linked.
The air inside the house was heavy and suffocating. Most rooms were dark and the little light that found its way inside through cracks in shutters gave the rooms a gloomy hue.
Nothing had happened in the house for the past few days. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. The atmosphere was tense and everyone felt that if any little thing happened, everything would break and fall together like a house of cards.
So when a wind was heard howling down the chimney, sending swirls of ash flying through the living room, activity was perceived throughout the house. The most notable was a red ball bouncing down the attic stairs and rolling towards Moira's feet. She looked up the stairs and saw Beau standing there. She might have felt a pang of pity, but she couldn't help but think that he was only the physical representation for Constance's twisted inner workings. All of her children were, in a way. She was being punished by way of her womb. Constance's great wish had been to have the perfect family that one could present to others as an example they should try to emulate. Moira couldn't help but be satisfied that it was exactly this that Constance was denied.
But Moira was also slightly disquieted. She too had felt the change in the atmosphere. She knew that Halloween was approaching, the night that spirits could wander among the living, but this time, it was different. Beau standing there only confirmed this. Normally, he would never stray from his room in the attic. The air was heavy, as if it were laden with incense, and he had felt it just like the rest of them.
" Go back to your room, Beau." She heard Tate's voice next to her. Even after all these years she was still surprised at how quietly the ghosts could move.
"You don't like it out here. It's too cold.", he continued, ignoring the pressing heat surrounding them.
Moira saw Beau creep back to the door and disappear through it. She shuddered at her own thought of how something so innocent could look so demonic, yet his brother, who was the devil's own, could look so very like an angel. It was the cruel irony of the world.
Tate turned to Moira to speak. He didn't know why he had come to her, but he felt like she was one of the few people he felt he could trust. He knew well enough that she despised his actions, but he also knew that somewhere inside her, she could understand him.
His mother had made him cruel. She had only set the example that he followed.
"Moira, I need your help"
"And why should I help you?"
"It wouldn't be for me. It's Violet. She's hurt and I'm frightened because she isn't getting better and- shit, I don't know."
He wiped his face with his hand. When he looked at Moira once more he could see her features were softened. She was fond of the girl and he knew then that she would help him.
"Lead me to her, Tate, though I can't promise I will be able to help."
A/N: I can't say how sorry I am for not updating. Life keeps getting in the way, but I can promise you that I will finish this story! Thank you for your support xx read and review please!