"Corey...I need to hear Corey Taylor...I need my music." I kept muttering to myself as I crawled across my bed, reaching for my earphones. I couldn't stand this warring of emotions inside of me. At some point I was sure that I would explode and every different part of me would separate, leaving my original self—if that even existed—an obliterated, bloody mess. My only hope of grasping onto any sort of sanity was to hear some sort of music, something to take my mind away from the madness. Temporary as it may have been.

Why would you bother distracting yourself, when you have the perfect romance right here in this house?

"Shut up!"

I flipped through my songs frantically until I found the perfect one, turning the volume as high as possible. My hands were halfway to my ear when I looked up to see Violet's shocked face staring at me in confusion. Only then did I realize that she'd been talking, raving happily about the better parts of the night as though our episode had never happened. I swallowed.

"N-not you Vi..Violet...I feel," I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before I really did combust, "Unstable."

I couldn't look at her. I was afraid that she might see the guilt in my eyes. "I just need to calm down with some music for a bit."

"I get it," She smiled sympathetically, plucking at a stray thread in my blanket, "I keep forgetting that you need sleep. Heh, I haven't sleep in years so...yeah. I'm sorry."

I returned her smile, "Thanks for understanding."

Not a second before she vanished, I lost myself in my music. Automatically I found my knees curling into my chest while the music comforted me. My arms held them tighter to me in order to repress the irrational, sure to be racketing, sobs. My eyes closed.

Voices,

Speaking clearly yet undefined,

There's so many choices,

Everyday is like wasting time,

Lay down,

Let me love you one more time,

Apathy is a virtue in my mind.

'Apathy is a virtue in my mind.' That phrase meant so much to me. For someone of my kind who truly had an inescapable apathy, I longed to know true emotion. Not obsession, but love. I didn't want to live my life, obsessed with the idea of a guy like I was going to end up in some damned fairy tale. I wanted to fall in love with a live, normal, human; to grow old and have babies and grandbabies; to die sleeping in my husbands arms when I was well into my nineties.

Apparently, Life didn't agree with me. Neither did the house.

I felt that horrible emptiness start to sink back into me. Were I alone, I would have slammed myself into the bed and allowed myself a small fit of senseless screaming to lose control of my emotions just for a little bit. But the others in the house could be anywhere, and I wouldn't know unless they appeared. I would be risking someone seeing me at my craziest, and that I couldn't handle.

No matter how hard I tried to shove it down, it pushed its way up anyways like an ever inflating hot air balloon. So I gave up. I kicked off my heels, put on my sneakers, and ran. Out of the basement, out of the house, off the property, down the street. I ran until my lungs burned and I couldn't focus, and I kept running. Anything to keep my mind off of that place, off of

Violet and Tate.

Tate and Violet.

Tate.

Tate.

"Shut up." I said again. My head kept reeling through the images, the memories of the house, and I shook it hoping to knock them out of me. It kind of worked.

In two seconds flat I managed to trip on my own shoes, lose sight of who was in front of me, fall dramatically and take down a hostage during the fall. My head ached from reverberating off of the concrete of the sidewalk. Clumsily I lifted myself up, and slowly. One arm first. Then I shifted my weight so that I could stand properly. I noted, embarrassed, that one of my legs had sprawled across the legs of my victim and I was still wearing my costume with its short skirt.

"I'm so sorry," I finally remembered to say, smoothing my skirt and tugging it a little further down as though it might save some of my decency. I smiled apologetically and went to go around him, but he stepped just enough in my way that I couldn't go without shoving passed him.

"You look like you're running away from something, can I help you with anything?" He had a handsome grin. His mouth was wide, his lips were full, set in smooth, pearl white skin. He almost looked albino except for...oh...his eyes. They were a gorgeous ice blue framed by snow-white hair despite his clearly young age. He couldn't have been older than twenty at least.

He chuckled, soft and smooth. "I take it you don't want to talk about it then? I can take a hint."

I felt like a nerd, blushing the way I did when he did a very old-fashioned half bow and stepped over to the side. "I...I'm so sorry. I just—I...what in the hell is wrong with me?"

A rush of reality hit me. I pressed my palm to my forehead trying to think but for some reason I couldn't form a sentence.

"Would you like my diagnoses?" He asked, raising a brow, still frozen in the state of an eighteen hundreds gentleman. I just stared t him until he relaxed. "I would say that when you hit your head, you lost all capability of speech aside from 'I'm sorry' and will only occasionally come to."

It was such a lame, dorky joke, and yet for the first time in a long time I felt a genuine laugh bubble out of me. I felt almost human for a moment. When I finally calmed down I stuck my hand out.

"I'm Cherie. I'm new to the neighborhood." Oh wow, he was warmer than I expected, with such a firm grip too.

Again, I got lost in his eyes as they crinkled with his grin. "I'm Liam. I know the area pretty well if you'd like me to show you around."

"So what were you doing before you ran into me?" Liam asked, his ever present cocky grin stretched across his face. We walked lazily through the park, the supposedly last stop before I finally headed back home and passed out. I say supposedly because we'd had about two or three other 'last stops' before he gave a last second 'Oh wait, one more place' and drug me off to the next place. Despite my exhaustion though, it was pretty fun, being with someone alive and that didn't remind me of that house.

I gave a nervous laugh, doing my best to relax without seeming too crazy, "Stress running?"

Something about him seemed so trustworthy and accepting. It could've be worth it to get to know him better. I might even be able to act how I wanted to around him someday. Then again, those were some pretty high hopes for having just met. Still, I like to think that I've got a good sense about people. Although, I would never trust someone fully until I'd been in their house. The house never lies.

He clicked his tongue, one single, loud snick. "Ahh..I see. Things got too bad at home, so you just ran to get away for a bit? That makes sense." Though he have a thoughtful nod, I found myself slightly unnerved at how nearly accurate he was. I shrugged it off.

"Yes, actually. Ho—," I yawned, "—ow yid oo hoo?"

I blushed, about to correct my horribly impaired speech when he answered anyway.

"I used to do the same thing. Then I grew up, moved out, and it seemed like everything just reset to the way it should have been." He gave me a sly grin, leaning down by consequence of our height difference, "That was adorable by the way."

My heart skipped. So this was how normal people flirted? I wasn't used to it, and had absolutely no response to him. For once I actually felt something—a strong unexplainable...vibration. It was warm and comforting. It was the way that I imagined a normal girl would feel when she had a crush on someone; a healthy crush that is. I wanted more of it...

"Thank you," I muttered, reminding myself to at least recognize the compliment even if I couldn't bring myself to look at him. We walked along in silence for a bit after that, and then I yawned again. This was when he finally turned around and started to head back the way we'd came.

"Alright, alright. I told you I can take a hint," He winked, his easy smile slipping into a quick flash of teeth for a split second, "Let's get you home."

On the way home I explained how I hadn't slept at all that night, having been out until sunrise 'with a friend'. I felt that odd vibration again when he ended up asking if I was dating my 'friend'. I went on to tell him that no, I was not dating my friend, she was a girl, and really, I wasn't dating anyone. That didn't sound weird to say did it? To just, tell him something like that without him asking? Damn, why didn't I pay attention when I saw girls normal girls flirting? I didn't know how to act at all. I was at a loss of responses.

Thankfully, we came to the gate in front of my house and I didn't have to worry about it. If it phased him at all that I lived in the notorious Murder House, he didn't show it. Surprisingly he lingered for a moment, quietly, though I had expected a quick goodbye and awkward run home.

"There's something I really want to tell you, Cherie." He started. The tone of his voice was like he was asking permission.

"...yes?"

"I knew you hadn't slept almost at all, at least, I was almost sure of it. I kept you out for so long because I thought you were interesting. I was wondering, if you might like to go on a real date with me after this? Maybe, one where I could see what you look like underneath all of that make-up?"

Vibrations cause heat the faster they are, and I was about to combust. I could hardly manage more than a gaping, fish out of water motion because of it. It took quite a bit of effort just to nod. Once I started the motion I couldn't stop it, shaking my head up and down excitedly.

"Yes, I mean uh...yeah. Sure, I would love that." I couldn't help leaning into the gate when he gave me the broadest, most relieved, and gorgeous smile he'd had all evening. I wondered if he ever stopped smiling.

"Great! How about tomorrow at nine?"

I just kept nodding, my own dumb smile plastered on my face as he said goodbye. I vaguely remember answering before pushing the gate open and going inside. The whispers didn't bother me for once—I didn't need my music or anything. I just lay on my bed, clutching my pillow to me as tight as I could. Not even minutes after I sat there wishing for something like this to happen...and it had. All that I needed to do know was wait, get to know him, and go to his house just once. Then I could decide if I really could love him.

Mostly, I was just happy that I had a crush on someone, and didn't have to keep thinking about Tate at all. The name didn't even give me that sinking guilty feeling that it usually did when I thought about it.

I was happy.

We psychopaths have a tendency to latch, don't we?

Hands. Feeling, roaming, caressing...A body, pressing hard against mine, pushing me down into my mattress. I breathe in, I sigh. Lips find mine, kissing me hard. Demanding. Needing. My hands, reaching up; Feeling, roaming, caressing... I whimper, one soft uncontrollable sound. He's nestled on top of me, my legs parted around his waist.

At my sound, he pulls back. I finally open my eyes, confused. Then I remember: He's the one that I've wanted more than anyone. He's like me. The only one who could ever understand me. The house is right... I need him.

When I woke up, I was horribly confused. I tried desperately to hold on to that feeling that Liam had given me, but it slipped through my fingers like smoke. Again I felt that odd surge of curiosity and longing, my mind determined to focus on Tate, though Violet had kept to herself the past while. The whispers seemed louder now, more insisting. They focused more in Tate as well. Only occasionally did they mention Thaddeus, but no one else.

I lay there awake, listening as the house recounted the events the night Vivian was raped, showing me snippets of Tate in that rubber suit. It molded to his body so nicely. I know it was wrong, but the sick part of me that I tried to quiet started to envy Vivian. She was given the most beautiful child from that experience.

Absently I rubbed my own belly and thought. A child...that sounded wonderful.

Not much by far compared to my other chapters I just wanted to show that I am working on the story and I promise the next one will be waaaaay longer it just might be awhile. Now that I've finally figured out my ultimate plot (ooo that sounds so evil. *rubs hands together evilly* mufufufu...) I'm having a bit of writers block trying to execute that instead of shoving Tate directly into Cherie's bed as soon as possible, lol. I'll post again as soon as I get everything figured out. In the meantime, can you guess who Liam is? I'll give you a hint: He's going to be around four awhile. :)

Btw, if its too cheesy let me know. I realize its starting to take a bit of an odd turn but I promise its going in a certain direction. I plan on bringing Hayden and Constance in more next chapter too. Thanks!