"Another stressful day, Miss Shepphard?" Moira asked as I walked through the front door.
I leaned against the door after closing it and sighed. "After catering to celebrities all day, I always have a new found respect for you." I answered.
The red haired maid gave me a smile. "That's kind of you to say. Shall I make you dinner?"
I nodded. "That would be nice. I think I'll take a bath while you do so."
I trudged up the stairs, heading towards the master bedroom as Moira slipped into the large kitchen.
"You know, this house is too quiet. You should blast some music."
I almost screamed as the young man in my bedroom spoke, giving me a Cheshire grin from his perch on my bed.
"And who the hell are you?" I asked him, ignoring his previous comment.
He stood up and shrugged, his hands resting in his pockets. "The name's Tate."
"Well, Tate, I'll have you know it's illegal to enter someone's house without permission. And it's creepy to hang around in someone's bedroom like this." I informed him.
"I didn't break in." He defended. "I promise." He put his hands out, palms up, as if I were a wild animal that he was afraid would bite him.
I let out a sigh. "Whatever. Get out."
"Aren't you going to tell me your name? Or ask where I live? Most people do those things."
"My name is Fox. I don't care where you live, I just want to take a bath. Now get out."
He quirked a brow. "Fox? Cool name. I live nearby, just so you know." He gave me a wink and then left my room, walking in confident strides.
He was a creepy motherfucker. But he was also attractive, I'll give him that.
~•~
After a nice, long bath, I slipped into my pyjamas and headed downstairs, following the aroma of whatever Moira had made for dinner.
The older woman had become a motherly figure to me, very quickly, so I was always glad that she was around. Not too mention she was a great cook and housekeeper.
I sat down at the kitchen island, and Moira sat a plate of pasta in front of me.
"Wow. Looks great!" I chirped honestly. "Thank you."
She smiled as I dug in.
"I'm going to go dust the living room before I leave, will you be alright for the rest of the night?" She asked as I twirled my fork around the spaghetti.
"You don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay." I answered and she headed out to dust and then go home.
I finished my dinner in silence, and then rinsed the plate and stuck it in the dishwasher.
I headed into the living room, Moira long gone now, and sat on the couch. Just as I reached over to grab my book off the coffee table, a blonde haired woman walked into the room.
"What have you done?" She looked around in horror as I stared at her in shock. "Such cheap fabrics in my beautiful home." She sniffled, as if she were about to break into tears.
"What? Does everyone in the neighbourhood just let themselves in without invite?" I murmured. I rubbed my eyes and turned to tell her to 'get out' only to find she was gone.
I made a quick sweep of the house, only to find I was alone.
"Okay. Weird." I whispered.
I made sure all the doors were locked and then sat back down on the couch to finish reading 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare.
At some point I must have fallen asleep. I vaguely remember dreaming of a chestnut haired, middle aged woman taking the book from my hands and marking my page as she set the book back on the coffee table.
"Go to bed." She murmured to me in a mothering tone and I nodded, following her instructions.
~•~
The next day, Wednesday, I had off from work. I had decided early in the morning that Tate was right, the house was too quiet.
So I set off in search of a pet store.
Nothing better than a loving pet to return home to.
I ended up buying two pets, a white, fluffy kitten, and an albino ferret.
They were both so cute, I couldn't help myself...
I let the two go once home, so they could explore the house. I had already given them names.
Draco, for the ferret, of course. And Caper for the kitten.
They made the house more homey.
"You bought a ferret?" Tate asked, giving me another heart attack as I noticed him sitting on the love seat in my living room.
"Apparently you've forgotten how it's still against the law to enter someone's house without permission." I rolled my eyes at him and plunked myself down on the couch.
He shrugged his shoulders. "You might notice I'm not the only house guest you have." He said sorta vaguely.
"Are you trying to tell me people break in often?" I replied.
He shook his head. "No one breaks in."
I narrowed my eyes and switched the topic. "Why are you here?"
He moved to sit next to me on the couch. "You look lonely, living alone. Are you?" It wasn't really an answer to my question.
"Not really. I'm used to being alone." I shrugged my own shoulders. "Before she died, my mom worked all the time, so it's not like I'm a stranger to empty houses."
He furrowed his eyebrows and leaned in towards me, conveying that he was listening with interest. "Don't you have a father?"
"No." I shook my head. "He got the hell out of dodge when he learned my mom was pregnant." I wasn't sure why I was telling him, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to trust him.
"Well I can promise I'll be around a lot, so you won't be alone." He spoke as if he were doing me some huge favour, and I could tell he was teasing me.
I shoved him off the couch playfully. "Who says I need anyone?" I gave him a smile, deciding he wasn't so bad.
He laughed from on the floor, looking up at me with another Cheshire grin. "You'll want me around. You'll see."
I grabbed the couch pillow and tossed it at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
He caught it and threw it back, and it soared over the couch and onto the floor. "Just that you shouldn't be so calm about living here."
I raised a brow. "Why? Because it's 'Murder House'?" I scoffed. "I don't believe in ghosts."
His attitude became serious. The joking manner gone from his face frightfully fast. "You should." He sat up on his knees in front of me. "And you will, if the house has any say in it. But I'll keep you safe."
I tilted my head to the side, listening to his words in confusion. He was almost scary, with how he spoke and acted about the 'ghosts' of the house. It was almost as if he believed the house was alive.
"You're bullshitting me." I decided.
He sighed, not in annoyance or exasperation, but as if he were tired. For a moment in his eyes I could see an agelessness I couldn't comprehend, as if he had lived longer than he should have, and had witnessed things he didn't desire to speak on.
"I won't lie to you. This time around, I'm not going to lie." He took my hand in his cold one.
I almost wanted to ask what 'this time around' meant, but I didn't.
"Alright." I mumbled, not sure what else to tell him because his seriousness was getting creepy. "Alright, Tate."
