Everytime (American Horror AU 5)

Chapter 13

NOTE: The media for this chapter is best played at the end of the chapter.

Cordelia had packed her bags the following day and flew back to New Orleans that afternoon. It had been a battle of wills before she was finally gone—Britta had the upper hand, especially with her reasoning. In her mind, how could she keep bringing the two sisters back every summer to the place where their family members had been brutally murdered? Once a mother herself, she knew how children absorbed images into their minds, as she could only imagine how terribly Clara had been haunted by the sight of blood puddles, mutilated corpses, and the sight of her aunt having hung herself.

Yes, Cordelia was Clara and Amy's mother by adoption, but in Britta's mind it was quite different. First, as she had grown up in a different time period and had experienced being adopted while a young child, the two concepts were totally different. Blood runs thicker than water, they say—the Swede took it to heart, even though she had treated the former carnies who had lived with her family during her lifetime like family as much as her husband did. Aside from this, she had the children she had given birth to. Yes, she had not been a perfect mother, but it was inarguable that her death had caused turmoil in the lives of her living family.

Two days after the incident, Clara and Britta had gone to their classes at the university, commuting by bus to campus. Amy was left home alone and scared beyond belief—Michael had been on her mind, or at least the personal memory Constance had shared with her. Could it have been really possible for a child so young to murder someone who would be considered physically larger and stronger such as a nanny? What if he had been watching her through the windows in her bedroom?

You're being paranoid, she thought to herself, just stop it. Now.

So she took a cigarette from where she stored them and put it between her lips, concentrating to light it pyrokinetically as she took her first drag, puffing out the smoke as she heard footsteps approaching her ajar door.

"Hello?" a youthful, female voice asked.

"Is that you, Violet?" Amy asked as the nicotine burned her lungs with the next drag.

"Yeah, can I come in?" she asked.

Upon opening the door, Amy glanced over to see the teenaged ghost dressed in a plum-knitted sweatshirt with a pattern that was disproportionate to a gray, floral patterned skirt. She was barefoot against the floor, and her light brown hair was loosely back in a ponytail, allowing anyone who saw her to get a better look at her warm, honey brown eyes, smooth skin, and rosy-tinted lips. She sure looked pretty, but Amy only vaguely complimented her.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," the witch said. "I haven't seen you in a couple days."

"I've been arguing with my parents," Violet said. "My mom's not happy that I'm back with Tate again."

"Huh," Amy said. "Cordelia used to give me shit about boys all the time."

"Where did she go, anyway?" the ghost asked.

"Oh…away."

"Away?"

"Yeah." Amy seemed so nonchalant about the matter, and kept dragging on her cigarette regardless of what Violet was to tell her. "She flew back to New Orleans."

"Really? Why?" Violet questioned suspiciously.

"Lots of reasons," Amy replied, sitting up on her bed as the ghost took a seat on the edge. "I guess my parents and aunt were axed to death by a demon who possessed my aunt. Cordelia waited forever to tell us. In fact, I don't think she wanted us to know at all. Britta took care of her, reasoned with her a bit."