𝕭𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖓 ✧ American Horror Story

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊: 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑

✧

Constance stood at the kitchen sink, meticulously drying a dish with a small towel swung over her shoulder, her movements deliberate and focused. Joey's eyes wandered over to his grandchildren nestled in separate car seats, their innocent faces a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the room.

"I don't mind watching them till after the service, Joseph," Constance offered, her voice gentle yet resolute.

"I know, but I can't impose on you like this, Constance," Joey replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. It had only been a week since his daughter's tragic death.

Constance turned off the water and approached the table where the babies lay. "Oh, don't be silly. Looking after these little angels is no imposition whatsoever," she reassured him, her hand tenderly brushing over baby Michael's cheek. "And I wouldn't dream of burdening you with the care of newborn babies during this time of your... unspeakable tragedy."

"Thank you, but... everything's prepared for the move, and these babies need to get as far from here as possible," Joey explained, his gaze heavy with concern.

Constance met his eyes with a solemn expression. "Oh, I see."

"If I could just get their things..."

"Certainly, uh... though it is nearly their lunchtime. I know... why don't I feed them? They'll fall right asleep, and then you can come back in several hours."

"I can feed them. It's really no trouble at all."

"I'm here to get my grandchildren, Constance."

"Your grandchildren... of course. Let me just gather up his things." Constance glanced at him before retrieving premade bottles of formula from the fridge. "This formula has to be warmed up. All you have to do is run it under the hot water tap."

"I'll be fine."

"No, I don't believe you will. Nor will those children if you take them back into that house."

"Just give me their things."

Constance began to grow frustrated as Joey took the formula from her hands. "Dr. Bishop, hear me. There are forces in that house that mean to do these babies grave harm. We both know that it's true. The same forces that killed your sweet daughter. If that house can claim her spirit, what's going to happen to these sweet little babies?"

"The babies are going to be fine," Joey insisted, his resolve unwavering as he moved to grab both car seats.

"Oh, you are a fool!" Constance's voice rose in frustration. "After everything that you've seen... after everything that has happened, how can you still be so blind?"

✧

In the warm glow of the kitchen, Moira sat at the island while Ophelia meticulously folded the new baby clothes she had never had the chance to see her babies wear. The room seemed to hum with a bittersweet energy as they discussed Ophelia's adjustment to her new lack of existence.

"I wonder, how is your adjustment going?" Moira inquired, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

Ophelia released a heavy sigh, her movements slowing as she contemplated her response. "I don't know... seeing my Dad mostly. He's devastated."

"Yes, well, it's always the living that make it hard," Moira mused knowingly.

Suddenly, Joey entered the kitchen, two car seats in hand, startling Ophelia, who instinctively ducked behind the island.

"You don't need to run off, dear. He can't see you unless you want him to," Moira reminded her gently.

"Oh, yeah..." Ophelia chuckled to herself before rising back up, her gaze immediately drawn to her babies. Her heart swelled with a mix of love and sadness as she looked at Josiah and Michael, their innocent smiles seeming to reach out to her. Turning to Moira, Ophelia couldn't help but ask, "Can they see me?"