Born to Die
three.
July 2009
Bang. Bang. Bang.
With bright, colorful fireworks exploding in the air, no one heard the gunshots. Three quick bullets straight to the head and Mrs.Lucas dropped dead. It was date night and the doctor was treating his wife to a stroll on the beach after dropping a cool two hundred on dinner overlooking the ocean. No one saw it coming.
The event was on the cover of magazines and made small television bits. Although the notable doctor’s wife was not murdered in the acclaimed Murder House, most began to speculate an theory of the curse following its inhabitants even when they weren’t in the house itself.
“Killed... three slugs to the noggin.” The brunette stared at her reflection in the mirror. She gripped the small metal blade in her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. The monotony of answering the officers questions were on a constant repeat in the young girl’s mind. At first it was a flurry of sirens, uniforms, and condolence.
”Now, Miss Lucas, I understand you were home during the time of this tragic event.” The officer opened the manilla folder and started flipping through paperwork.
Without thought, a dead, “Yes” slipped through her dry cracked lips. Three days had already passed since the murder at the shore and her body was wrung dry of any tears.
A small trickle of red liquid landed in the sink with a prominent thump. There was no pain, no feeling, no sorrow. Her dull eyes found their way to mirror again. She saw nothing but a skeleton of her former self in the mirror. There was a soft knock on the door but her dead stare never faltered. Tate’s voice of concern wafted through the door before he just entered the room.
The first thing he noticed was the glint of silver coated with red. The white porcelain sink was painted over in blood. There was an echoing, ear splitting shriek that came from neither Tate nor Emma. Nora appeared beside the young girl, her face horror stricken at the sight of her bathroom fixture saturated in crimson blood. The brunette stood in such a trance like state only snapping out of it at the feeling of another person’s hand guide her line of vision away from the mirror.
Tate’s cold hand on her warm cheek sent electric shocks down her spine. “Don’t do this, Emma.” HIs voice was calm, smooth like butter, but Emma could always detect the hint of desperation and panic in his voice. “Drop the blade so I can wash up the cut for you.”
Doing as he asked, Emma slowly lifted her bloody hand and dropped the blade into his open and waiting palm. Tate quickly jumped into action and grabbed one of the bath towels much to Nora’s disliking and applied pressure to the laceration. Moira soon joined the bathroom party with a box of medical supplies which Tate grabbed out of her hands. The young ghost ushered his friend back into her bedroom and sat on her bed, cleaning the wound.
“Why’d you do it, Emma? What’s happening to you?”
“She’s dead, Tate.” Her voice was strained, “She can’t come back like you did.”
Tate cocked his eyebrow in confusion as he gently wiped an alcohol swab over her hand, “I thought you hated that bitch.”
The brunette winced but it wasn’t because of the physical pain in her palm. Tate’s choice of words sunk deep in her mind. “She was still my mother. Deep down inside, I loved her and all she knows is my hate.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon laying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. The only sound in the room was Kurt’s crooning voice, the album Nevermind on shuffle and repeat. As the sun fell, Tate looked over and noticed that the brunette beside him had fallen asleep. He pressed his lips her her cheek and stared for a while, studying her at peace, at least for a while.
Hearing his name being called, Tate disappeared down to the basement where he found Nora weeping into her lace handkerchief. Thaddeus was cowering in the corner, his ghoulish face sending chills down Tate’s spine. Ignoring the Infantana, Tate stood before the weeping ghost and knelt down to be eye level with her. Nora looked up, not a smudge of makeup out of place, and outstretched her hand placing it gently on Tate’s shoulder.
“Had you given me the child from the start, things would have never ended this way.” Nora gave the teenager a quick look of pity before replacing it with one of determination, “You know what must be done, my precious boy.” She stood pulling Tate up along with her, a delicate finger underneath his chin.
Tate searched his pseudo-mother’s face. His body began to shake in both rage and sorrow, “I can’t... I can’t do it.”
Red flashed across Nora’s face, “Have you not made a promise? I thought I had your word that you would produce a child for me.”
“I love her, Nora... I can’t do it.” Tate let out a cry of frustration, feeling the pressure between a rock and a hard place. His verbal statement only solidified the emotions he was feeling.
“You love her, do you?” An amused expression danced across her face, “Well I can’t help but say that I am disappointed. I really thought you would stay true to your word.”
Tate felt uncontrollable rage bubbling up in the bottom of his stomach. “No, Nora, please! I’ll figure something out.”
Flashes of screaming students played in his mind as Nora’s red lips stretched into a grin, “As I expected you would, darling.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
With bright, colorful fireworks exploding in the air, no one heard the gunshots. Three quick bullets straight to the head and Mrs.Lucas dropped dead. It was date night and the doctor was treating his wife to a stroll on the beach after dropping a cool two hundred on dinner overlooking the ocean. No one saw it coming.
The event was on the cover of magazines and made small television bits. Although the notable doctor’s wife was not murdered in the acclaimed Murder House, most began to speculate an theory of the curse following its inhabitants even when they weren’t in the house itself.
“Killed... three slugs to the noggin.” The brunette stared at her reflection in the mirror. She gripped the small metal blade in her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. The monotony of answering the officers questions were on a constant repeat in the young girl’s mind. At first it was a flurry of sirens, uniforms, and condolence.
”Now, Miss Lucas, I understand you were home during the time of this tragic event.” The officer opened the manilla folder and started flipping through paperwork.
Without thought, a dead, “Yes” slipped through her dry cracked lips. Three days had already passed since the murder at the shore and her body was wrung dry of any tears.
A small trickle of red liquid landed in the sink with a prominent thump. There was no pain, no feeling, no sorrow. Her dull eyes found their way to mirror again. She saw nothing but a skeleton of her former self in the mirror. There was a soft knock on the door but her dead stare never faltered. Tate’s voice of concern wafted through the door before he just entered the room.
The first thing he noticed was the glint of silver coated with red. The white porcelain sink was painted over in blood. There was an echoing, ear splitting shriek that came from neither Tate nor Emma. Nora appeared beside the young girl, her face horror stricken at the sight of her bathroom fixture saturated in crimson blood. The brunette stood in such a trance like state only snapping out of it at the feeling of another person’s hand guide her line of vision away from the mirror.
Tate’s cold hand on her warm cheek sent electric shocks down her spine. “Don’t do this, Emma.” HIs voice was calm, smooth like butter, but Emma could always detect the hint of desperation and panic in his voice. “Drop the blade so I can wash up the cut for you.”
Doing as he asked, Emma slowly lifted her bloody hand and dropped the blade into his open and waiting palm. Tate quickly jumped into action and grabbed one of the bath towels much to Nora’s disliking and applied pressure to the laceration. Moira soon joined the bathroom party with a box of medical supplies which Tate grabbed out of her hands. The young ghost ushered his friend back into her bedroom and sat on her bed, cleaning the wound.
“Why’d you do it, Emma? What’s happening to you?”
“She’s dead, Tate.” Her voice was strained, “She can’t come back like you did.”
Tate cocked his eyebrow in confusion as he gently wiped an alcohol swab over her hand, “I thought you hated that bitch.”
The brunette winced but it wasn’t because of the physical pain in her palm. Tate’s choice of words sunk deep in her mind. “She was still my mother. Deep down inside, I loved her and all she knows is my hate.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon laying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. The only sound in the room was Kurt’s crooning voice, the album Nevermind on shuffle and repeat. As the sun fell, Tate looked over and noticed that the brunette beside him had fallen asleep. He pressed his lips her her cheek and stared for a while, studying her at peace, at least for a while.
Hearing his name being called, Tate disappeared down to the basement where he found Nora weeping into her lace handkerchief. Thaddeus was cowering in the corner, his ghoulish face sending chills down Tate’s spine. Ignoring the Infantana, Tate stood before the weeping ghost and knelt down to be eye level with her. Nora looked up, not a smudge of makeup out of place, and outstretched her hand placing it gently on Tate’s shoulder.
“Had you given me the child from the start, things would have never ended this way.” Nora gave the teenager a quick look of pity before replacing it with one of determination, “You know what must be done, my precious boy.” She stood pulling Tate up along with her, a delicate finger underneath his chin.
Tate searched his pseudo-mother’s face. His body began to shake in both rage and sorrow, “I can’t... I can’t do it.”
Red flashed across Nora’s face, “Have you not made a promise? I thought I had your word that you would produce a child for me.”
“I love her, Nora... I can’t do it.” Tate let out a cry of frustration, feeling the pressure between a rock and a hard place. His verbal statement only solidified the emotions he was feeling.
“You love her, do you?” An amused expression danced across her face, “Well I can’t help but say that I am disappointed. I really thought you would stay true to your word.”
Tate felt uncontrollable rage bubbling up in the bottom of his stomach. “No, Nora, please! I’ll figure something out.”
Flashes of screaming students played in his mind as Nora’s red lips stretched into a grin, “As I expected you would, darling.”
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