Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

A Friend in Need Pt.5

I hadn't left my room in days. You'd think that would be less likely since it used to be Tate's room, and it was technically his ghostly spawning point, but it was the only other place I could go. It was my place of comfort, ignoring that my now ghost ex had died in there. I could always lock the door and shut myself out from everything. Tate could still pop up, but I'd yell at him to go away. Violet understood my feelings, so she allowed me to have some space. I couldn't say the same for my aunt or Jake.

I lay in a fetal position, bawling up in my blankets, and listened to music on my phone, yelling out the lyrics for the whole house to hear. I'm sure Thaddeus was downstairs horrified by my off-key, heartfelt singing. I had tissues sprawled all around my bed. I couldn't remember the last time I could breathe out of my nose without mucus. My eyes were puffed up and redder than Moira's hair. I was devastated. What were the odds of me finally finding love only to find out he was a mass-murdering deadbeat? The first red flag should have been that he was a ghost if I'm honest with myself.

No one had come to bother me all day. I was shocked someone would usually knock on my door to check on me, specifically my aunt and Jake; my aunt would give me a speech through my doorway about how I shouldn't be so caught up over a boy and how my world seemed like it's turning upside down when it's not, but she had no idea what my world looked like. I got kidnapped by ghosts and almost died for this boy- sometimes grown-ups just needed to shut the fuck up. Jake would chat and inform me about what was happening at school when I didn't fucking care. I'm not trying to sound like my ex, but fuck that school. Jake also attempted to make me laugh, so I gave him brownie points. He was not the most annoying cousin all the time.

Music blared through my speakers at top volume as I sang out my sorrows. Lana Del Rey was the public speaker of the century for me currently; she already was, but now everything felt different. I hollered the backing vocals of 'Serial Killer' from the top of my lungs; Violet appeared visibly concerned and kneeled by my bedside.

"Sweet serial killer," I sang, "Love you just a little too much. Love you just a little too much, much."

"Your aunt brought your favorite ice cream downstairs," Violet said, "I could bring it up here if you want."

"Thank you, Vi," I replied, "...Sweeet Serial Killer."

"God, " she flinched, "Y/n, you can't stay here forever. I know you're hurt, and you know I know exactly how you are feeling, but you can't just trap yourself in here forever. You could die in here."

"Maybe that's what I want," I sniffled.

"Then you'd be trapped with him in his room forever," she reminded, "You forgot what type of house this was, huh?"

I sat up and turned my music down. She was right. I'd be forced to see him for eternity if I died. There was no way of escaping him unless we moved. Tate would ensure that never happened.

"How are you not still pissed, Violet," I asked, "He fucked your mom. Your little brother is his ex's kid."

"If you want to make the pot boil more, he fucked my mom before he took my virginity," she sighed, "My mom had him before I ever did, and she liked it more than with my dad."

"Oh, oh," I gasped, "Vi, I'm going to sign you up for online therapy."

"I think it may be too late for that," she replied, "Now get up; you still have a lot of life ahead of you, and you can leave the house. You'll get older and experience life away from this hellhole."

"True," I replied, "Thanks, Violet."

"It's not a problem, Y/n," she replied, "I'll go get the ice cream."