~June 8th 2016~

"Bloody heat." The redhead whispered as her dainty hand gripped a broken piece of cardboard to make air travel toward her frame in a fanning motion, the movements swiftly sent cool air toward her face, but only shortly, for the humidity was still almost unbearable; so much so, that not even with a her hair up would her neck not glisten with the droplets of sweat that adorned it. Specially not standing upon the place where she had recently decided to live; more so, when she was nearly forced to stand out in the sun while the uniformed men going to and fro from the truck before them, unloaded the every single piece of furniture she'd bought for and to her brand new house. The place was Los Angeles, California; and upon searching for what had felt like entirely too long within the confines of a small three-bedroom apartment, the redhead had fallen completely in love with the house she'd found. The truth was that it had only taken but a glimpse before she knew that the epic Victorian house was for her; for it was almost an exact replica of the one she once used to live in before her life completely changed into a full and unfortunate chaos.

The house was as wonderful inside as it seemed to be on the outside; it was big, that much was clear. It had about six rooms, three living rooms and the biggest basement she'd ever laid her eyes on; or ever since her gorgeous home in Cambridge, England. She was glad, though, that she could finally spend the money her parents had left her so many years ago, on something she would genuinely enjoy; for her many millions had been sitting in many different banks throughout the years without being touched; since she hadn't really needed any money to do as she pleased for a very long time. But now, under the heavy sun of L.A, everything seemed to fall into place for the green eyed girl; her heavy gaze followed the men on their tired trails from the truck to the house, paying little mind to every single time they called her over towards the big oak doors to ask where she wanted what they were carrying into the house. Granted, she did replied to every single inquiry, but it was only without moving from where she was; no one understood why, and the redhead could see the discontent that washed upon the uniformed men whenever they had to head back into the house, but regardless of the heat, regardless of how desperately she wished to get away from the sun, she knew she couldn't move. Not until they had gotten the trunk out of the moving vehicle and into the house.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the heat felt much heavier than before, and within her place, the redhead felt a dizziness that sent her one free hand upwards with the means of finding any sense of balance; and such facts were the only ones needed for her to know that the men were moving the trunk. The hand that had lifted swiftly moved against the air until she could reach up to where her sun shades rested upon the bridge of her nose only with the hopes of retrieving them; then her back started hurting. "Oi!" She exclaimed, moving forth a step only against the dizzying heat. "Careful with that trunk, will ya?" She demanded, nearly burning a hole upon the foreheads of the men to whom her gaze nearly paralysed. They all watched her as they moved, but the two that carried the trunk she had been waiting for did not make any visual attempts at treating their carry gently; something that only invited the redhead to move even faster until she walked by their side. Regardless of the sigh that escaped her lips, the men continued on; their harsh movements willing the contents of the trunk to move from side to side in such motions that, out there, made the redhead dizzy. "Bloody hell, do you not see it says 'Fragile'?!" She wondered rather loudly as another spasm brought pangs of pain upon her neck; it was a discomfort that willed the girl to do anything but hide within the confines of her new home, an ache that stopped her eyes from fully looking up at the Victorian home as she entered it with a hand resting against her left temple, and within her silent rage, the redhead's gaze shifted before her and away from the careless men as she crossed the threshold; when she felt one last jolt of pain the moment the men finally set down the trunk roughly upon the wooden ground, all she could do was whisper a carless. "Ow." One that had clearly been heard by the couple of men that sent her a glance whilst they walked away toward the L.A sun.

There was something wrong.

Her dizziness became more pronounced, and the headache that only moments prior had stopped her from looking into the sun, now pushed against her head like a prominent spark that refused to let her even open her eyes; she wanted to shut out every light regardless of if there were none, she wanted to tell everyone to shut up regardless of if no one were speaking, she wanted to—"Miss?" Said a voice right beside her within an echo to nearly mimic a gunshot; which was why it was no surprise that the girl flinched when she turned about to look back into the gazes of the few men that walked through her front door with as much concerned as bewildered expressions; it was a situation that, if it weren't for the pain within her brain, then she would have most likely found amusing: a pair of puzzled guys were stepping through the threshold whilst pulling in a hospital stretcher, and another pair, including the one who had called for her attention, pulled in the box of a cardiac machine. "Where do you want these?"

Maybe she's a psycho One of them thought; something to which the redhead attempted to not react with anything more than a well amused expression to push away the burning within her brain. "Ya can take those expressions away from your faces." She mused with a smile to hide it all away. What the fuck does she need this for? Another one thought. "I'm not crazy or ill; it's for acting." She confessed within her most convincing note as the third of the men thought something else; something that truly allowed for no other reaction than a roll of her eyes in pretend annoyance. "What? Seriously, I'm an actress." She said toward the wondrous men. "You should see all the weird shit I have in all those boxes." She lied toward them; not at all surprised when the men curiously exchanged looks and finally became convinced by the redhead's words. L.A. They're all motherfuckin' actors. The first one thought as he rolled his eyes, starting to motion the other to move before he accidentally hurt him for wanting to get the hell out of the house already; after all, one more hour and his work day would be over. At least that's what the redhead understood with every single speck of a thought that crossed his mind. "Basement please..." She nearly chanted within an innocent note as a dainty little hand motioned forth, toward the door down the hallway, where the basement could be found, leading the other mean within their curiosity to move away from the redhead in silence; that is... until one of the redhead's hands lifted and stopped to rest on the chest of one of the guys, an action that only made the man stop and look at her with as much a frown as a curious stance. "Be a dear and set it all up for me, will you?" She requested, with those green eyes looking from under red thick lashes into the eyes of the other boy. "Just follow the instructions on the box, it's not that hard." She grinned, and it was such a relaxed and compelling note that adorned the girl's lips, that even if she hadn't lowered her free hand into the pocket of the jeans to pull a hundred dollar bill and offered it to the waiting man, he would still have done her bidding. "Please?"

He had to even clear his throat. "Of course;" He nodded, nearly in a trance. "Yes, señorita. Lo que usted quiera." The agreement fell from his lips quickly, but not as much as his movements followed; for it had only been but a couple of seconds after he'd looked away that he began yelling something in a very heavily accented English in the direction of the other men. Another sigh left the redhead's lips when the men disappeared toward the basement; she finally decided to sit down right upon the trunk she had been so protective of, knowing very well that any and all efforts made within the next few hours would have to be dedicated to acting absolutely normal, and, if anything, to boss the men around whilst wishing for them all to leave, for she knew that time was beginning to run out, and it worried her.

In fact, the headache from before seemed to easily return along with a dizziness she very much instantly loathed; and it was all enough for those beauteous green orbs to look down upon the carved wooden surface of the huge trunk under her, and allowed a soft hand to pat the top of it twice. "Don't worry." She whispered in the softest of notes. "Just a tad more and you're out of there."

-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

The air was still humid, and the sun had nearly changed sides in the sky by the time silence reined upon the huge Victorian house once again. Furniture and suitcases rested at every corner of the home, yet for the very lonely soul of one Tate Langdon, no changes mattered to make his suffering any less; his back softly pressed against the wall across from Violet Harmon's bedroom door, the soles of his converse hard upon the wood he sat on as his knees bent in front of him. It was such a stillness that could perhaps make him look like a statue, if it weren't for the breathing that lifted his chest; his eyes never pried away from that doorknob that held every promise upon it, always hoping and wishing for that small discrete movement that meant his Violet was about to leave the room.

The truth was that the place in front of the dirty blonde's room had become home to him; he never slept, and he never moved for any other reason than to hide away when she did decide to leave its confines, for he knew that Violet didn't ever want to see him. It was why he had known that no activity within the room could at all be missed if he allowed whatever speck of curiosity he had left to lead him towards the nearest window upon the arrival of the new owner. Someone who, as dainty as she appeared, caused no stirring within his brain for any other reason than the reality that the ghosts upon the house would begin their scaring that very night, and, if anything, brought forth a speck of excitement within the realisation that his Violet would roam free until the redhead was out of their lives. It was only such that made him return to his beloved's door, why his eyes so patient focused on that doorknob once more, as if such glance alone were to make the glistening object move, for the truth along her avoidance upon him was enough to leave him appreciating any second he could even look at her, why he loved the idea of a new owner merely for the promise it brought forth, why he—THUD.

The echo was loud enough to make the ghost's reverie be broken within a second; it was a noise so loud that the breath upon his parted lips froze along the look he sent the direction it had come from. Never mind his beloved's doorknob, never mind his pain, his curiosity, once again, pretended to rein. I miss the quiet, already. He found himself thinking as the stopped breath left him at last. "Always making my job harder..." He heard the newcomer's voice echo from the lower level of the house, only leaving the ghost with a rise of his brows within a mindless curiosity that had already kept his eyes away from his beloved's door for longer than he could even know.

It wasn't until another rather loud thud came from down the stairs, that the boy's brows furrowed together in a frown to state his own bewilderment and annoyance; one that left him wondering upon the lady's actions as the echo of a vexed breath escaped through his now pressed lips. What the hell is she doing down there? He wondered upon the tooting of yet another thud coming so loudly from downstairs. Too curious not to move and find out, Tate lifted himself up slowly from the wall he had been resting against, forever attempting to stay as quiet as his nature allowed him, and keeping every step he placed hidden onto the dark places of the house, for as much his own comfort as the means to avoid anyone else who might be as curious as he upon that very moment.

It was no more than a creaking along the wood that followed the many thuds that had called for his attention; enough of an echo to send his agog demeanour looking along the kitchen and the lower grounds; making his eyes wonder upon every corner and every shadow in search of the dainty redhead woman he had seen from that window upon his perch. It was only in moments such as those when the boy loathed the size of the place, for her voice echoed upon every corner as if she were hiding everywhere at once; and he was about to finally give up his search by sitting pointlessly in the kitchen, when he heard the woman's rough voice once again. "Fuck!" It cursed; only making his brows raise and his entire body as much face as follow the noise. "That's going to leave a bruise." The voice continued within enough clarity that it allowed Tate the silent walk he wished to make over to where the voice resounded; it was only seconds later that he realised the voice came from the open basement door, and upon a peak within its confines, he finally was able to see the same petite curly redhead he had seen before, lifting a heavy looking trunk with both her hands as she stepped into the dark, yet familiar, insides of the enormous basement.

"First mistake…" Tate whispered, as her body completely disappeared into the darkness, only to have an unseen Tate Langdon follow along behind her into the well known dangerous and obscure confines of the basement of the Victorian house more famously known as Murder House.

To Be Continued.