Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Sweet, but Psycho - Pt. 4

"I don't think your mom would like this," I acknowledged.

After dinner, Tate and I decided that I should spend the night since I didn't have anywhere else currently. He denied my offer of sleeping in his room, but I was so close. Constance had no idea I was still in the house. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. With a flashlight, I followed him down to the basement, the only room he hadn't shown me during the tour "for safety reasons," he claimed. He was too sweet- caring so much about my safety, but I wasn't stupid. I knew what he was trying to do- if he wanted me to move in, he could've just said that. I was more than happy too.

"Well, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like you staying at some motel where some creeps can stalk you," Tate responded, "Believe it or not, I think she truly likes you. She doesn't even show Stanley that type of respect."

"That's unhealthy," I commented.

"Ah, fuck him," he chuckled, "No one in this house respects him. Not even his wife and kids."

"Okay, now I'm intrigued, we've toured the house, but you've had yet to tell me some of the stories," I beamed, "What happened with his family?"

"I'll save that one for later," Tate taunted, "If I tell you what happened, you might burn him- and if anyone is gonna light that motherfucker on fire, it's gonna be me."

I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. He said those words with such aggression. Such passion. I could feel every emotion that he felt. He was a man after my own heart- and he had it. He'd have it forever. Tate and I stopped at the bottom step as I glanced around. It was a typical basement, cold and eerie. Nothing too special- that was until I started hearing a weird noise. Tate could tell I was a little on edge, so he grabbed my hand and held it.

"Don't be scared," he assured, "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you."

I released a deep breath, not because I was scared, but because this man was playing with me. We could elope right in this instance, but he's playing.

"I will tell you one story, though," Tate began, "The owners of this house originally were the Montgomerys. Ever heard of them?"

"Yeah, weren't they that couple whose baby got snatched," I answered, "The man was a doctor, and the wife was just there. They pissed off some guys and got their baby back in pieces."

"And Charles brought it back to life," Tate said.

"And that's where the myth ends," I chuckled.

"The real myth is that the story is one," Tate corrected me.

"What do you mean," I asked.

I could hear a noise getting louder. It came from somewhere in the room, but I couldn't tell where. Tate's hand gripped mine harder as he led me deeper into the room. I know following some boy into his basement in the middle of the night was a stupid idea, but you only live once- besides, I was more confused than scared out of anything.

"Don't scream," he instructed.

I nodded my head as he stopped and shone the light around. The space was surrounded by ancient doctors, lab equipment, and old jars filled with items that looked like organs on the dusty shelves and table tops. Odd, yes, but some people eat their placenta after giving birth- people do weird shit and collect weirder. I know that Mark has a collection of porn mags; I didn't ask him- he just randomly told me one day and made me hate him more.

"Hey, Thaddeus," he said, "Come out and meet my new friend. I think you're going to like her."

Almost on command, Thaddeus crawled toward us. I'd seen a lot, but I never thought I'd see actual lore come to life. Tate leaned down and held out his hand to Thaddeus, who reciprocated.