Dream for the Dead (Completed/Editing)

1

It's pretty cliché. A new home. A new beginning. A new life. You see, my parents had decided to divorce - Mum had, anyway - and my mother chose to move both her and myself to some place new.
Somewhere far away from my father.
Mum was really angry with dad. Furious. Livid. She'd told me the reason for their abrupt divorce wasn't anything too bad, just something pretty... cliché. But I'd been listening to their hushed arguments, and I was now terrified of my own father.
I had heard him in the old living room blubbering that he had been going crazy for a while now, but my mum 'never listened to what I have to say, so I have no help or support.' I then heard something that had made my stomach clench, made my vision blur... all of my organs seemed to momentarily cease function, in fact. It felt as though time had stopped, and I remember praying in my mind that I was having a horrible nightmare.
This is what I heard:
"You've been dealing drugs, David. Worse, and I can't even say it without wanting to throw up- oh, you bastard, how?" Mum paused here, sighed, then hissed through tears, "you've been killing people! Murder, and just for money! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
There was a pause. The world stopped to watch my own world shatter and fall apart.
I'd heard Mum trying to whisper, "is this even real? I'm saying it, but I can't believe it! Ugh, you sicken me. I'm getting another glass of wine..."
So, we had moved away. I was actually quite happy, especially since I knew the real reason we were moving. But my contentment with the situation was mostly because our new house was gorgeous. It was an extravagant mansion in a small countryside town, but had been suspiciously cheap for what it was, due to 'issues.'
"Could you please elaborate?" Mum asked the estate agent.
"Oh... umm..." the estate agent had chuckled nervously, messing with her hair whilst deliberately trying to look anywhere but directly at us.
"Well, it's all superstition, really. I mean, you tell people the history behind this house, and they begin hallucinating..."
"What are you talking about?" I couldn't contain my excitement. I'd always been fascinated with the idea of paranormal activity, mysteries, creepy backstories to places - you know, that sort of thing. Some people might call me 'sick' - and they had - but it was thrilling to me, and those words were like a dream come true.
"Well," the nervous - and annoying - chuckle again, "this house has had some... some strange things happen within it. Ha, yeah... well, um, first of all, a psychologist... a psychologist sort of, sort of messed with his wife's brain... until she went absolutely crazy and, and she... she committed suicide. He kept her body, thinking he could experiment on her and somehow create a zombie ... sex ... slave ..." she cleared her throat, chuckled dryly and continued, "soon after, his wife's brother came to check up on her, since she hadn't contacted him in any way for a while. When he saw what the psychologist guy had been doing, he got really angry and... well, he stabbed the man to death. He mutilated his body-"
"Please, enough of these stories!" Mum snapped, placing a hand to her right temple.
She was a really squeamish person, and it was hilarious watching her try to keep calm whilst this woman rambled on about the mansion's devilish history, though I was rather disappointed I wouldn't hear the end of it - perhaps I was better off not knowing; I'd maybe start to hallucinate myself, whilst I lay in bed at night all alone, and it would be silly to lose sleep over entities and forces that absolutely did not exist. Still, somehow, a part of me deep inside wanted such a thrill.
I knew it would never be, though. As fun as such stories as hauntings and the like are, they are just that: stories.

*

One week after our viewing of the mansion, we moved in and began settling into our new home. I had chosen a beautiful bedroom for myself out of the seven bedrooms the manor house had to offer. It was large, very large, and the view from the window was stunning: countryside and greenery for miles. I made a mental note to check out the field and forest visible from my second-storey boudoir. There was even an ensuite bathroom in this room, it was like I was royalty or someone really posh. It was perfect, a paradise home in bliss.
Dad tried to call me as I stared out of the window - the third time already that morning. I'd ignored it, however, allowing my attention to instead be captured by the aesthetic, and kept for the time being, adhered to the idea of blissful ignorance and empty thoughts.
I couldn't bare to speak to him just yet.
Maybe never again.

*

"Tabbi, why don't you stay at your father's house every other weekend? It'd be nice for you and for him-"
"No."
As we were sat eating in one of the three dazzlingly decorated dining rooms, the chandelier twinkling above us and casting stars onto the crimson wallpaper and golden skirting board, I'd started to go off my meal. I wasn't going to be staying at his house, no matter what the circumstances were, I was too afraid, but perhaps what bothered me most at that moment in time was the fact that Mum wanted me to stay with a monster like my father. Seriously, woman, I thought, have I done something to upset you and now you want to ship me off for slaughter?
"What's wrong, sweetie?" Mum stopped eating and made me look up at her.
I shrugged and replied simply, "nothing... I just, I love this house. I don't want to leave." I put on a fake smile and my mum laughed lightly.
"I'm sure you'll change your mind by next week, darling."
I certainly wouldn't.

*

"Tabitha, it's your first day at school, you don't want to be late!"
I woke up the next morning to mum calling me from downstairs. I was nervous, and immediately began to feel nauseous, dreading having to handle the pressure and anxiety of making new friends.
"Come downstairs, there's bacon!"
Bacon? Right, that settled it. I was going downstairs, no questions asked. Hopping out of bed, I slipped on my fluffy bunny slippers and bounced down the winding staircase to the dining room.
Mum laughed as I ran in and scooted to my seat, beaming at her, my eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"You're not getting lost yet?" she asked.
"No."
"I guess I should have known that nose of yours would lead you straight here, anyway."
I gave her a sarcastic laugh and smiled with anticipation as I seated myself at the dining table, and forgot all about school as Mum placed a bacon and egg sandwich in front of me.
"I've only been over, like, a quarter of the place anyway... I haven't had the chance to get lost," I laughed and said, "but I'm going to explore some more this weekend. I've finished unpacking, so I'm sure I'll find the time."
"For now, eat, and get ready for school!"
With those words, my mood was dampened once more.