❝ When a ghost falls in love with the living, he'll start believing his heart has awoken. ❞
❝ When a medium wants to close her eyes to the dead, she'll realize being normal is harder than it seems. ❞
än ämerican horror story fan fi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑
"IT'S probably the hottest time of the year, why are you wearing a turtleneck?" Christine asked, pushing the cart through the grocery store, her eyes on the hunt for whatever ingredients for a dish she planned on making later.
Last night's dream had felt more three dimensional than Antoinette had ever experienced. The soreness to her throat was a constant burning brand that demanded frozen bags of peas to soothe. Antoinette didn't want anyone to see the indents that tattooed her flesh and while it was baking in downtown Los Angeles, she would rather sweat than be questioned. IF anyone had caught sight of the way it scarred her, a manhunt would be placed on the town, and she knew her father would be the one to lead it.
"I like the shirt." She shrugged, walking calmly beside Christine.
Her mother raised a brow at her but didn't press further on the matter. The grocery store was a place of quiet searching; distant elevator music played while the main customers that perused the aisles were retired military men or housewives preparing their next gelatin. On a Monday morning, everything seemed stuck in a slow-motion capture reel. Antoinette felt herself being slammed and dissected, but outside of her inner world, the real one moved along without any kind of cheek-gnawing paranoia. It felt as though this was the make-believe realm that made normal lives feel on script while the horror she lived internally proclaimed a more natural way of life.
"Have you considered?" Christine changed the subject, taking two boxes of pasta down from a shelf and throwing it in the cart.
Antoinette let out a slow breath. "I still have my life in San Francisco."
"It's just so far away," Her mother said, disappointment wrinkling her eyes. "At your age, I wanted to be left alone, too. To live my own life and meet new people and not have to worry about what goes on back at home. But...after a time, I missed the ones that raised me. I just don't want you to forget how much we miss you."
Guilt tore into Antoinette's stomach. There was nothing against what this woman had done; even though Antoinette wasn't her blood-related daughter, she had treated her and loved her like one all of her life. Christine Debroux was a saint, a god-fearing woman that seeded her love through the acts of service she inflicted upon the members of her family. From her food to her singing, she made sure that herself, her father, and Gabrielle were in the bubble of her love.
