The *** House

Tate led me up to the second floor, and his footsteps slowed noticeably. His movements were deliberate and careful. I could feel his tension in the air. He began pointing out various rooms and informing me about them in a hushed tone.

"That was my bedroom once. I died in there in 1994. Now Violet stays there, and I stay away. She told me to go away," his voice broke with the last sentence. Tate gazed longingly at the closed door in front of us. His breathing hitched for a moment, and then he seemed to snap out of his stupor. He continued walking, pointing out the master bedroom and the nursery, where a muted cry could be heard from an unseen infant. He paused in the middle of the hallway and pulled down the retractable stairs to the attic. "I come up here a lot," he explained. "Don't be afraid."

He stepped aside and allowed me to ascend the rickety stairs in front of him. As soon as my feet were on solid planks, a red rubber ball rolled out toward me. I furrowed my brow as I bent to retrieve the ball.

A disembodied, crazed laugh echoed through the small space. I jumped, looking up to find a horribly disfigured face smiling back at me. A thick forehead jutted out over beady eyes, and several crooked teeth stuck out of the grin at odd angles. I gasped, and Tate's hand rested reassuringly on my shoulder.

"His name is Beau. He just wants to play."

I looked from the clapping figure in front of me to the ball balanced in my fingers. Slowly, I stooped low and rolled the ball back toward Beau. He let out an excited grunt, then scurried across the floor and scooped up the toy. He laughed, then rolled it back again.

I was still shaking as I picked up the ball once more. "He isn't going to hurt me, is he?"

"There's less chance of him hurting you than there is of me doing it. He's harmless. He's my brother."

I looked up at Tate, surprised. "Your brother?"

He nodded, and his eyes tightened considerably. "My mom's boyfriend killed him. They had him chained up here like an animal. But he couldn't harm anyone. He has the mentality of a child. He's pretty much the only person here that's always happy to see me. He just wants some company; it doesn't matter who it is."

I rolled the ball back across the floor toward Beau. He grinned his toothy grin at me again, and I saw that he really wasn't really a freak. By the sounds of it, he was probably the least tortured person in the house.

After a few minutes of playing, I cleared my throat. "Can I look around on my own for a bit?"

He tore his eyes from Beau, then seemed to evaluate me. "Knock yourself out. I'll wait up here."

I nodded my head, then hurried back down the stairs and to the second floor of the house. I snuck into the nursery, where I had heard the baby cry before. I faced a red crib, and I approached it slowly. A tiny hiccup escaped from the infant's mouth. I adjusted the blanket and tried to get a good look at the child's face. Bright blue eyes peered back at me, and the tiny lips curled into a grin. I smiled and began to coo at the baby.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

I didn't even have time to react before I was thrust up against a wall. A hand clasped around my throat, lifting my feet from the floor and causing me to fight for a breath. Tears sprang to my eyes as the pressure increased on my windpipe. I tried to speak, but only ragged, choking sounds came out. I looked at my attacker. A man with the same bright blue eyes as the baby was glaring at me as he attempted to choke the life from me. His face was twisted with rage.

"Ben," a soft, motherly voice emerged from somewhere behind him. A woman with swirling blonde hair was approaching us. She was staring at the man with what appeared to be an expression of reason. "Let her down. We don't know anything about her."

"She was with Tate. I saw them," the man argued. "How are we to know if she's going to try something crazy? You know I don't trust anyone with the baby."

"She's new, and he's the one that first went to see her outside. How is she to know? Besides, he hasn't caused any trouble in a long time. Stop passing premature judgements."

Reluctantly, the man loosened his iron grip. My feet made contact with the ground, and I gasped for breath. I may have been deceased, but that was still really unpleasant.

"I'm sorry," I said to him. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just heard a baby, and I wanted to see for myself."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" the woman asked sweetly.

"I'm Ainsley."

"Well I'm Vivien, and this is my husband Ben," she smiled as she gestured between herself and the infuriated man. "What do you know about this house?"

I gulped back another breath, still trying to adjust after being strangled. "I know that I'm dead, and I know that I'm stuck here."

"What do you know about Tate? What has he told you?" the man nearly screamed in my face.

"What do you want from me?" I spat back. "I don't know anything about anyone. Tate showed me my body, and he introduced me to the others in the basement. When he took me to meet Beau, I decided to take a look around for myself. I've only been dead for a little while, you know."

"Ainsley," Vivien said. "It's okay. We all know how hard it is to die, but none of us had to do it alone. If you want us to help you, we would be more than happy to. You look to be around the same age as our daughter, Violet. Maybe the two of you could get to know each other."

I took an instant liking to Vivien. She was clearly a devoted mother, and her kindness seemed to radiate out from her.

"Thank you," I mumured. "I should get back. I kind of left Beau in the middle of a game."

"Come back anytime."

I stepped past her, rushing a bit in case Ben decided that I was still an enemy. I darted back up the staircase to the attic and found Tate hunched over on a decrepit cot that had been pushed up against a wall. He brightened and sat up straight when I entered.

"You came back," he said.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought maybe they would have scared you away."

I raised my eyebrows. "Away from you? Not at all. They kind of scared me away from that Ben guy, though." I touched my fingers to the tender flesh on my neck.

"Did you meet Violet?" he asked, delicately phrasing the question. He looked down at his hands as he spoke.

"No, I pretty much took off as soon as Ben stopped trying to murder me. Can that happen? Can we be killed again?"

Tate looked up with a hint of humour in his eyes. "No, we can't die. I could decapitate you right now and you would be back to normal in no time."

I cracked a smile. "Please don't demonstrate that fact."

"I wasn't really planning on it."

"I know." I sat down next to him, scanning the room around us. "So what's your story? I mean, why are you here? How did you die?"

Tate let out a heavy breath. "That's kind of a loaded question. The short answer is that I got shot. I don't really feel like getting into the rest of it right now."

I chewed on my bottom lip. Tate's harsh tone had made me feel as thought I'd crossed a line of some sort. I sat in silence, wondering if I should just leave, when the red rubber ball came to rest against my shoe.

"Beau likes you," Tate said softly. "You aren't scared of him."

"After last night, I find it really hard to be afraid. It's not like I can die all over again."

"So you aren't afraid of me?"

I gave him a puzzled look. "Why would I be? You're officially the nicest person here, as far as I can tell."

He didn't appear to be consoled. "You still haven't met Violet."

"What do you think is going to happen when I do?" I asked. "Do you think that I'm just going to forget that it was you that helped me to believe that I was dead? Do you think that I'm going to become her best friend and she'll somehow turn me against you? You keep telling me that you can't be around her, but then you talk about her like she's some kind of goddess. I know that it's really not my place to hound you for details, but I don't understand any of this."

Tate's eyes were dancing with fury when he looked at me. "It's none of your concern, Ainsley." His voice was regulated and calm, but I could see that it was a struggle for him to keep it that way.

I tensed up. "I'm sorry, Tate. Hayden just said some things earlier and I was curious."

"Hayden doesn't know what she's talking about. She's not so innocent, you know. She had sex with Ben Harmon and was pregnant with his kid when she died. Did she mention that part? She tried to split up a happy family."

"I didn't know," my voice rose. "I wasn't trying to imply anything, Tate. I've only been here a couple of hours. There is no way for me to know everything that's happened in this house. You said that you've been dead since 1994; that's given you a hell of a long time to figure it all out."

Tate's face was smooth and clear again in an instant. "Just don't believe everything that you hear, okay? Not everyone in this place is looking out for you."

I picked up the ball and rolled it back toward the corner where I knew that Beau was lurking. The ball left a visible trail through the dust on the floorboards. "I trust you, Tate. You were the only one who took the time to explain what was happening to me. You haven't given me some kind of awful advice to fuck me over, even though it probably wouldn't have been that hard. And you brought me up here to a secluded spot that other people don't invade. So yeah, I think that I'll be choosing your company over the alternatives."

He watched as Beau appeared out of the darkness, his ever-present smile still attached to his thin, dry lips. Tate smiled back at his brother, and I think it was the first time that I truly saw happiness touch his eyes.

"You hear that, Beau?" He murmured lightly. "You have a new friend to play with. It's not just you and me anymore."