This was her dream.

For as long as she could remember, this is exactly what Nella had always wanted. A small frown crept its way onto her face. Well, not exactly.

The 21 year old woman stood just off the main path in front of her new home as various men in uniform filed in and out, carrying boxes, furniture, and a variety of medical equipment into the large Victorian house. The Murder House. Nella played with the end of one of her pigtails, her large blue eyes scanning the exterior as she patiently waited for the moving men to be done. She already knew the history of the house she just bought. She knew it more than most, considering what she had to do to get it ready.

Her dream, since her first memory attending her grandfather's funeral was to own a funeral home of her very own one day. So to get it ready and meet industry standards right away, she had a team of professionals come in to clean and scour the house of anything that would not be considered kosher to a health worker coming in to check on her. There were so many bodies coming out of the house and so many reporters loitering outside she couldn't decide which there were more of. Included in the various remains found there was the girl from the previous family that lived there. Nella rolled her tongue, deciding she probably liked the story of her running away more than being secretly dead in the house both her parents died in too. But now that the house had been cleared out (of the bodies, at least), Nella made haste on getting her new home and place of work moved into.

Thanking and paying the men, she stepped foot into the foyer and heaved a sigh at the sight of the boxes surrounding her. Now that everyone had left, a familiar sinking feeling settled in her chest. At 21, Nella was no stranger to death; especially given that it had become her chosen profession. But when the blonde envisioned her dreams, they always had her family in them too. The death of her family had been the only way she was able to pay for this endeavour, and she liked to tell herself that in this way, she was still keeping them in her vision.

She gazed around a little lost at the sight before settling on roaming into the kitchen. Reaching into the bag of groceries she had deposited on the counter earlier, the woman pulled out the bottle of wine she picked up and walked over to the box clearly labeled "glassware." She pulled out the fish-bowl wine glass her mother had gotten her for her 21st birthday and proceeded to pour half the bottle into it. Raising her glass to the air, she toasted, "To you guys, wherever you are." Then as a joke to herself she added, "And to anyone else who might be listening."

Of course she couldn't have known then, but there would always be someone listening.

"Ugh, she's going to turn my beautiful home into a house of death," groaned Chad.

"It's already a house of death," Patrick stated, rolling his eyes.

"You've gotta admit," said Vivien, tilting her head to the side, "it's not a bad idea."

Violet laughed at her mother's comment as the four ghosts watched the young blonde woman half painting and half dancing to a variety of tracks. As soon as the girl had everything on the main floor set up to her liking (being that it would be the actual business place) she set out to making her personal rooms, well, personal.

It was day two for Nella in the Murder House and she was making quick work of settling in. That first day, soon after the movers had left, more men in uniforms had come around to install a few doors between rooms. She had been careful selecting chestnut wood doors with stained glass that matched the rest of the house. After re arranging the beautiful furniture, Nella had two viewing rooms set up as well as lounging areas. The kitchen doors were made special so she could remove the "employees only" plaques that were mandatory.

She went to sleep that night in the master bedroom with everything pushed into the middle of the room, knowing she would be painting it the next day. So here she was, wiggling around on the ladder while she brushed patterns of flowers and vines in a shade of lavender that popped on the now mint green walls. A toned down version of the room she selected as her "man cave" which she had painted lime green with plum patterns and vines snaking all over the walls.

"Think she likes green and purple?" Ben joked, earning cracked smiles from the rest of the gathering crowd.

A variety of the ghosts had been watching her closely since she first purchased the property and ordered the thorough sweep of the house. Violet was heartbroken to find that the removal of her body hadn't meant she could leave the house. But needless to say, the entities were all curious about the woman who seemed to be cutting no corners and making no mistakes. Everything about her seemed professional, organized, and calm. Kind of like a funeral director. Only, none of the ghosts could deny her absolutely liveliness and how much it drew them to her.

Nella brushed the petals of the final flower, hopping off the ladder and stepping back to inspect her work. She smiled and nodded to herself, cleaning up everything as she went. Admittedly, the blonde had been stubbornly ignoring the feeling of being constantly watched for the past two days. Between ordering things for her business and setting up the house, she didn't even have time to dwell on the feeling anyway.

But now, as she cleaned up she couldn't shake the shiver up her spine, convinced that someone had been standing in the doorway watching her. Truthfully, she figured this house would be haunted. The knowledge hadn't bothered her; she had lived in haunted places before. In fact, one might even say she sought out haunted places. One of the guilty pleasures the woman admitted to having was that she liked being scared. Rollercoasters, horror movies, haunted houses, anything for a good adrenaline kick.

But of course, there were limits. She liked being scared, knowing in the back of her mind she was safe. She had never been in a haunted place all alone before, although after one night she decided it wasn't so bad. She wouldn't even play with Ouija boards, upon her grandmother's request (the second funeral she had ever attended). Maybe, she thought, if she pretended they weren't there, the ghosts of the house would just do the same for her.

The office needed little to no help to become an office for seeing clients in. All she really had to do was clear out the books and paperwork and replace it with her own. The rest of the rooms upstairs she would use as display rooms for caskets and merchandise when her orders all came in. By the end of the week she'd be able to start taking clients. As soon as she got the basement ready, of course.

The main reason the bodies coming out of her house hadn't bothered her was because, to put it simply, she was used to dead people. When the cleaning crew came in, she had the basement totally emptied for her practice. She chuckled grimly, thinking about the grisly things the first doctor of the house did in the basement. At least the bodies she would be working on down there would already be dead and (hopefully) stay dead.

It didn't need much work. Some extra lights put in, and her equipment organized, and she'd call it serviceable. She had the work table set up over a drain and all of the chemicals close by and properly labeled. The mortuary makeup was still boxed and waiting to be placed in the metal drawers she affectionately called "the vanity." And even more service men were coming in tomorrow to build her a cooler for body storage. The last of them. And then she swore she'd never see a service man again…until next year, at least.

Nella looked up from the shiny metal table and screamed when she caught sight of the reflection of a little boy in the glass behind her. Whipping around she saw that the little boy was in fact, just a little boy. Placing a hand over her heart and taking a huge breath, she looked at the boy concerned. "Hello there," she said cautiously.

The boy didn't answer her, instead staring at her creepily. He looked pretty young, Nella probably could say about 4 or 5 years old. The boy had a mop of curly blonde hair and eyes so dark they looked black to her. "Michael? Michael!" called a woman's voice, followed by the click of heels coming down the stairs. An older (admittedly beautiful) blonde woman appeared behind the boy and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Michael, there you are! You had me so worried!" At this, the woman looked up to see Nella standing there with her hand still on her chest, very obviously confused, her face riddled with question. Constance straightened up, keeping a hand on the boy's shoulder and offered a smile.

"Ahh, so you're the mystery woman the papers have been buzzing about. I didn't think anyone would ever clean up the mess in this house. Although I have to admit, I thought you'd be older. I'm Constance Langdon, and this is my…grandson, Michael. We live next door," she said in ways of greeting.

Nella nodded, visibly relaxing and extending a hand. "Nella De Ville. It's a pleasure to meet you both." She turned around and noticed the space they were in. "Um, perhaps we should move upstairs? This is hardly the place for a young boy."

"Of course, consider us gone. Michael just loves exploring. You must have left the door unlocked for him to get in. Perhaps another time," Constance said, gently guiding Michael who, Nella could have sworn actually glared at her. Deciding it was a trick of the low lighting, she followed them up the stairs, making sure to lock the door labeled "employees only" behind her. She watched the strange pair as they left, making sure to lock the door behind them. The last thing Nella needed was to have a heart attack because of a strange little boy.