"Violet?" Vivien poked her head into Violet's room.
"Yeah Mom?" Violet was laying on her bed, scrolling through the music on her iPod.
"Just checking in to see if you wanted to do anything, like help us decorate for Halloween." Ever since Vivien found Violet in the bathroom, she had been dropping by at random times. 'Just checking in,' she always said. But Violet knew she was just making sure her daughter didn't try to kill herself over and over and over again.
Choosing a song, she set her iPod down and looked at Vivien. "I might come down later. I just want to hang out for a bit."
"All right." Vivien started to leave, but she paused and turned back to her daughter's room. "Violet, are you sure you're okay?"
"Mom, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to kill myself—I'm already dead, remember?"
"Okay. We'll be downstairs setting up."
Once Vivien left, Violet picked up the razor blade that she had quickly hidden under her comforter when she heard her mom coming. It glinted in the light as she held between her fingers and lightly ran the sharp edge along her wrists. Not deep enough to draw blood; she just traced it over her old scars from when she was alive.
The scene in the bathroom had shaken her. After—for the most part—successfully bottling up all of her memories of Tate, they had come flooding back all at once, coming over her like a tidal wave. And then, he showed up. It had been too much.
It made her heart swell to know that he had remembered the promise he made her make so many years ago, but it also made her even more conflicted. She loved him—she couldn't deny that any longer. He needed to pay for all he did, but was five years long enough?
"I miss him," she admitted out loud, then immediately wished she hadn't. It was almost like saying it aloud made her longing for Tate more real, if that was even possible. But God, did she miss him. Maybe it was time to forgive him. . .
Violet shook her head. I can't think about this right now. She took her ear buds out and set her iPod down on her bed. This Halloween she would have to see if Vivien would buy her a newer one; after all, it was only a week away. One week until she could finally get out of this goddamn house, even if it were only for a day.
She headed downstairs to find Chad, Vivien, and Moira carving pumpkins and making decorations. Chad looked up and said, "Good, you can give me a hand with the bats. Your mother is terrible at them, even after three years of practice."
In the past years, some of the ghosts of Murder House had reconciled, which was why Chad was in the kitchen with them (even though he had plotted to raise the twins as his and Patrick's). It made things easier for Violet; she always had people she could talk to. For a while it was alright, but there was only one person she really wanted to talk to. The one person who truly understood her: Tate.
Violet walked over to the counter and picked up a sheet of black paper, folding it into a 3-D bat. She laughed at something Chad said and put a smile on for Vivien, but all Violet really wanted to do was go back upstairs and lose herself in her music.
Halloween couldn't come soon enough.