The *** House

I spent the rest of the week living with Violet. She avoided the elephant in the room, sidestepping all discussions about my impending death. She was treating the topic as if it didn't exist; as if I would change my mind.

I spent my days saying goodbye to those who had actually accepted me into the house. Moira wept as I spoke to her, and I knew that she wanted to be free even more than I did. Though she was friends with the Harmon family, and was even the baby's godmother, she had lived in the house long enough that her family outside of these walls was long since dead. I hoped that once I was gone, Billie Dean would help Moira to leave as well.

I cried when I said goodbye to Beau. He was the little brother I'd never had, and I genuinely loved him. He didn't seem to know what I meant when I said that I wouldn't be coming back, but he howled in mourning when he noticed the wet tracks down my cheeks.

Ben tried to give me one last therapy session, as if it would make me rethink my decision. Instead, it ended with an awkward hug as he wished me well in whatever happened. Vivien's goodbye had a similar feel to it, though her embrace was warm and gentle. I suddenly regretted avoiding her as of late. Maybe I had missed out on something nice when I'd pushed her away.

I said my goodbye to Violet the morning that Billie Dean was set to return. The two of us fought back tears as we gossiped for one last time. I began choking on my own emotion as the conversation turned, as I knew it would, to Tate's fate.

"Please take care of him. I'm not even saying that you should be friends with him, I'm just asking you to keep an eye on him. I don't want him to do anything stupid. I would feel better knowing that you're watching out for him."

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll check in on him. But I won't be his friend. He's still going to be lonely without you."

I cleared my throat a couple of times, trying to dislodge the painful lump that had gathered there. "Take care of yourself, too. I'll really miss you. You're one of the best friends I've ever had."

"Same goes for you. Whatever you find out there, make sure you're happy."

I still hadn't seen Tate. I hadn't spoken to him since we'd fought when Billie Dean had offered to set me free. I had caught sight of him on occasion, but neither of us had summoned the courage to talk it out. I needed to find him now. I needed to have a proper goodbye before the camera crew arrived. I checked the attic, but it was empty. The study was in the same condition. I took a few minutes to gather my thoughts before I ventured down to the basement. After a moment, I realized that it didn't matter if I freaked out on anyone today. It would be the last time.

I slipped down the dark stairs and found the nearly everyone was out of hiding. They all knew that something was happening. Travis caught me by the elbow as I walked cluelessly past him. I looked at him with raised eyebrows, realizing that I hadn't said goodbye to him yet. He didn't seem to require the gesture.

"He's in the backyard. He just went out the door a minute ago. He's avoiding you, but he'll listen if you catch him."

I nodded my understanding. "Thank you," I said.

I hurried past the other wandering souls and darted out through the basement door. The cement steps outside were cracked and crumbling, and I scrambled up them until I was standing in the shade of the mansion. Tate was standing in the gazebo, watching me. I ran over to him, stopping short just out of his reach. We stared at one another for a long, almost uncomfortable moment. I had never felt this out of place beside him before. Even when I had found out about his murderous past, things hadn't been this forced. I knew just how badly I was hurting him.

"I can't leave you like this," I told him. "I need you to know just how sorry I am."

"I know. I'm sorry I got so mad about it. It's just... is this really what's right? You're giving up forever because you're afraid to hurt people's feelings? That's all it boils down to, you know. You can't hurt them physically. You're just afraid of offending people. You're afraid of being disliked."

"I thought you would understand more than anyone," I pressed. "I'm afraid of being someone that I don't recognize. And knowing that that other person will continue to exist as long as I do... that makes me need to make sure that no part of me exists. If I could just make sure that I was only ever myself, I wouldn't dream of leaving. I would stay forever. But I can't fight this internal war anymore. I can't live with the fear that one day it'll be you that I hurt. That's what I'm afraid of more than anything."

Tate held up a hand, stopping me from continuing. "See, that's the part that I do understand. Except when I worry about hurting people, I try to fix it. You're taking the easy way out."

"You're calling me a coward?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing."

I let out a breath in a huff. "I'm really sorry that this is how you'll remember me. I don't feel like I'm taking the easy way out at all. Don't you get that? This life is familiar. It's safe. But how do I know what I'm facing on the other side?"

"Then don't go," he said softly.

I felt everything inside of me break. Why did he have to wait until now to ask me to stay? I was so close to escape, but now I had to rethink the whole thing. If he had said these exact words a week ago, I would have listened. But now, it felt like it was too late.

"You're stronger than I could ever hope to be," I said gently. "You'll be okay. You don't need me like I need you. Please forgive me."

My pleading voice spoke the words that I couldn't. Tate let his tears fall openly. "You're really going."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, fearing my voice would break. "There is no way to ever make this up to you. You can't imagine how awful I feel. But I can't back down now. If I chicken out now, I'll never regain the courage to try again."

"But I love you," he said, as if the statement was an argument.

"I know," I reached out and touched his face gently. His skin was cold. "And I love you. But that's not enough to keep you safe."

He pulled back. "No, fuck that! That's all I've heard from you lately. The only one you're really keeping safe here is you. We can't die, Ainsley. We regenerate when we're injured. You're using this as an excuse. You were looking for a way out, and you thought that this one would be plausible enough that the rest of us would just stand by while you heroically died for us. That's such bullshit! There is no reason for you to go other than the fact that you want to. And it would hurt less if you just stopped grasping at straws and came out and said it. Why won't you just say that you don't want to be with me anymore? Why won't you at least let me have your honesty before you leave me forever?"

The tears that I'd held back with Violet sprang forth. I felt more angry than upset, and I roughly shoved Tate back against the bench in the gazebo. "How could you ever think that? You mean more to me than anyone else does. More than they ever could. This is not about you! I never want to leave you! But my sanity depends on leaving this house. And yeah, I would rather die than know that I tried to stab you in my sleep. Knowing that I even have the capacity to hurt you is killing me. I'm leaving for myself, yes, but in my mind it's for you. You deserve someone better. Someone stable."

"But that's what links us! We were destined to find each other because we're both the same!"

I took a moment to breathe. "I thought that we found each other so that we could help one another. But I'm so much further gone than you. It's not fair. I can't continue like this."

"I never pegged you for a quitter," he said coldly.

I could hear the rumble of van engines out front of the house, followed by doors slamming and voices chatting. This was it. I wrapped my arms around Tate, ignoring the fact that he didn't return the gesture.

"I am so sorry."

I knew that he would only push me away if I tried my luck and went for a kiss, so instead I simply let him go. I turned and crossed the lawn, heading for the back door. As I walked, I heard his soft voice mutter darkly.

"Yeah, so am I."

I had to work to stop myself from looking back. I didn't need any more temptation to go running back to him. If I did, there was just no guarantee that I would ever be able to let go of him again. Now he'd watched not one, but two girls that he loved walk out on him. At least I wouldn't remain in the house as a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

When I walked into the kitchen, I found that Billie Dean was already there. She greeted me with a bright smile; she looked incredibly happy. I forced a tiny, fleeting grin in return, but found that my heart wasn't in it.

"What's wrong?" she asked, rushing instantly to my side and looking me in the eyes. "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

"No," I assured her, taking a step back and away from her sudden intensity. "I just had to do a lot of goodbyes. I'm tired, that's all. So tired."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but today isn't going to be a walk in the park. I need you to be willing to do things for the camera. Little things, like opening doors and dropping things. People go nuts for that kind of stuff. We can't do the ritual until midnight."

"But you're sure it'll work?"

"I did it two months ago, and it worked just fine."

I frowned. "But did you have to deal with a house like this?"

Billie Dean continued to smile at my skepticism. "This ritual is more powerful than this house. It will work."

I decided that I had no choice but to trust her. "Okay, let's do it. Just tell me what I need to do."

She nodded her head, then turned and began giving orders to one of the cameramen. The crew seemed slightly off-put by my presence. I couldn't tell if they believed that I was a ghost, or if they thought that Billie Dean was simply cheating her way through her pilot and using real people instead of spirits. One of them set his camera on a tripod, and I watched as a red light appeared on the device. He was already beginning to film the kitchen. When the lens swiveled around to focus on me, the man's jaw fell slack. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, and I watched as he wavered on his feet.

"You're just a spot of light to the camera," Billie Dean explained as I shifted uncomfortably under the man's disbelieving stare. "They'll get used to it, don't worry."

"Is there any way to speed the adaptation along?" I grumbled, shivering at the thought of people gawking at me like that.

"Okay, guys, she's not a freak. There's no reason to stare. You're professionals; do your job."

The man blinked a few times in rapid succession, then went back to filming. When he faced the doorway, he paused. Moira and the Harmons were in the dining room, watching curiously. They were probably hiding from the living crew, but evidently they, too, showed up in the camera's view screen.

I still felt a little strange about this whole scenario. I wanted to take the opportunity, but I felt like a traitor by allowing the outside world to witness what happened in a house full of ghosts. Maybe it would help to keep buyers away, just as Marcy had feared. Then I could at least pretend that I was doing some good. But what if my family happened to tune into this show? They had never really been into the idea of paranormal entities, but maybe they had changed their mind since I died. If they saw that it was taking place in this house, surely at least Jason would watch it. He had, after all, spoken to me since my death.

I approached Billie Dean timidly. "I have a few questions for you, before we go through with this."

"Of course, what is it?"

I swallowed nervously. "It's just... I have people that I still need to protect. They can't know that it's me. If they find out, they'll buy this house. They'll die here. I can't do it if I know that will happen."

She appeared to fully understand what I was saying. "You have my word. You'll be anonymous. I'll just refer to you as a young girl that has been trapped her for awhile. There are a number of other girls in this house, so no one will know it's you."

I chewed on my lip. "But Violet and Hayden aren't even dead, as far as the rest of the world knows. Who else could it be?"

"There is always someone. I can think of a few girls in the basement who might fit the profile. There's the nursing student, and the girls who tried to reenact her murder. Nobody will automatically assume that it's you."

"Someone will," I argued. "My brother came here once. He spoke to me, and I told him that I was crossing over so that he would leave. He'll know. He'll come back. And Patrick will kill him. Or someone else will. I have too many enemies in this house to risk letting my family come here."

"You have friends here, too. I can feel it. You're protected by some of the souls here. They'll protect your family if something like that happens. Have faith in them."

I drew in a shaky breath. "I do have faith in them. But I refuse to underestimate the spirits who want me to suffer."

"Even they know that you can't suffer because of their actions when you aren't here," Billie Dean reminded me with a soft, sympathetic smile. "Everything will be okay once you're gone. You need to stop worrying about what you're leaving behind and focus on what you're working toward. None of this will be your problem anymore in less than twelve hours."

Twelve hours. I had twelve hours left, and no one to spend the time with. I wanted to make every second count, but I found that I was impatiently awaiting the moment when I would finally cross over. The last year had been marvelous and horrifying all at once, but it was almost over.

In twelve hours, one way or another, I would be gone.