Dead (Violet Harmon/You)

1

Your P.O.V.

After the longest ten hour drive of my life, which was filled with my mothers horrible jokes and even worse choice of music, we finally arrived to the place we now call "home". I'd seen the pictures online, but I didn't expect it to be so large. I stepped out of the car to stretch my sore, cramped limbs, my mom following suite. 

"Don't you just love it, sweetie?" 

She asked me enthusiastically as we walked up to the front door. She pulled out the key that the landlord gave her at the realtor's office before we came to the house, and unlocked the front door. I couldn't help but notice the homey aroma that the house gave off, like someone was still living here. The walls and floors were so incredibly bare that it almost seemed boring. But I'm sure with a little home decor, this place will liven up. The good thing about living with my mom is that I can decorate just about anything to fit my taste.

"It's pretty cool." I responded as I took a look at the grandiose staircase that apparently lead up to my room. My mom took me on a mini house tour, showing the living room, kitchen and all of the other rooms that she was fascinated with. All throughout that time, something in me kept pulling my attention toward the rooms upstairs. "I'm going to check out my room." I told her, accidentally cutting off her rant about the wallpaper. She looked at me for a second before saying another overly enthusiastic "okay" before I let my feet carry me to my destination. Step after step, the dark oak wood floors turned into lighter glossier ones. As I reached the top, it was like a transformation into another house completely. The walls were white with a few small windows that let the sunlight leak in, making it carry an entirely different vibe. I stood there, remembering my moms words as she told me which room would be mine; second room on the left. I walked slowly toward the white door, letting the translucence of the hallway guide my steps. I reached for the door knob and twisted it, letting the door fall open. I stepped in, once again noticing the kind of aroma that would belong to an occupied house. It smelled of vanilla. I walked further into the room that felt like someone else's, recognizing more windows that allowed light from the outside. The walls were also painted a dark purple, which kind of fit the vibe of the room. While I stood in the room taking in the architecture, I couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching me. It was an odd feeling. Not like someone staring, but observing. I looked behind me, but there was no one there. I turned back, taking in the room one more time before exiting. I walked back downstairs, trying to shake the feeling that was surrounding me. I walked into the kitchen — passing a very expensive looking stained glass window — finding my mom on the phone with someone. I sat on one of the built in stools at the island and waited for her to end the call so I could discuss possible interior design within the house. After a few minutes of listening to my mother argue with the other person on the phone, there was a knock at the front door. I turned my head as it caught my attention, wondering who it could be. I turned back to my mom.

"Honey, could you answer that please?" She asked quietly, covering her phone so the caller didn't think she was directing her question to them. I got up and made my way toward the door of our new home, keeping a strong demeanor. I twisted the knob and opened the door to find a woman on the other side. She had blonde hair in a neat up-do, a blue summer dress matched with red heels as she held a plate of cookies. 

"You must be the new owner. I'm Constance Langdon." She introduced herself with a polite smile, though I could tell that was the kind of smile you only use to get something you want. Though, I couldn't possibly understand what she would need from us. 

I smiled back at her. "My mother is the owner, actually. She's on the phone right now." I told the slightly intrusive woman who kept peeking behind me into the house.