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American Horror Story Fanfic.

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American Horror Story Fanfic. Empty American Horror Story Fanfic.

Post by thewretchedwriter on 12/28/2011, 1:17 pm

Chapter one- Apologies

Violet reached for that familiar blade, the relief to her emotional pain. She glanced at her scars, and cringed. With a sigh, she tediously traced over her previous cuts, inhaling sharply with the shock of pain, and exhaling smoothly with satisfaction as the crimson liquid started to bead up on her pale skin. Her brown eyes started to water a bit. She was trapped, this kept her going, functioning, or as much as a ghost can. She shook with the memory of seeing her decaying body in the basement. She blinked her thoughts away, and sat down in the recognizable antique bathtub, and slid the razor over her wrists again.
“You know that doesn’t help, love.” A voice from the doorway spoke.
She jumped a bit, and turned to the voice she’d had a love-hate relationship with.
“Tate, I’m dead, not an Alzheimer’s patient. But apparently you are. I haven’t forgotten what you have done, but clearly you have. I told you I didn’t want to see you.”
“Vi, I love you-“
“Tate, I love you too. But you haven’t changed. I will always love you, but I need time. And fortunately, that’s one thing we have an abundance of.” Violets voice got sharp, as she wrapped her wrists and dashed out of the room.
She crept up to the attic, and as she sighed, a red rubber ball rolled to her feet.
“Hello, Beau. I’ve missed you.” She rolled the ball towards him, and sat down on his bed. Vi had become quite fond of this misunderstood boy. Chains rattled against the old wood floor, which creaked as Beau walked up and sat by violet, Sometimes his only friend. She took a deep breath of the old house’s scent, and exhaled as a tear rolled down her pale and cold cheek. It had taken all her strength to tell Tate she hadn’t forgiven him. She seemed to collapse a bit, to melt onto the dark, cold wood floor. She curled up into a fetal position, and started crying. Beau whined a bit, unsure what to do. He sat next to her, attempting to comfort his companion.

She was awoken by her father’s weeping, accompanied by her mother’s quick pacing across the room, and back, and so on. Somewhere the ginger twins screamed as Thaddeus’ terrorized them. Hayden’s rant to Chad and Patrick about how she would have taken care of the baby, if Constance hadn’t abducted it. But she had not heard Tate. He had seemed to stay silent, or at least he planned to, until violet, his soul mate, needed him.
He had apologized many times in his head. He just didn’t feel the need to anger her again.
She had apologized in whispers to herself, apologizing to her parents, for the selfish act of suicide she committed.
Vivien apologized in her mind constantly; she felt the weight of guilt on her shoulders, for pushing her husband to suicide.

This house was full of apologies.
None of them heard.
Whispered for only the walls to hear.
“If walls could speak…” Tate whispered to himself.


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