Filthy Goddamn Horror Show

I just wanted them to be quiet. I'm not just talking about the voices in my head, either. Larry, the fucking pig; left his wife and kids to burn alive whilst he panted after my mother, Constance. I'll never be her perfect son, and if she hadn't seen it before, it's all too clear in the blood smeared across my sheets and the little neon target spots dancing over my splattered face, even now. I lived for her. For as long as I can remember, I lived for her, because I didn't have a family and she saved me. When you die in this house, you come back, but it's not like you know what's happened. I know I died, and I know the cops killed me. But I don't remember it happening, and I don't remember why they did it. Constance wouldn't tell me, that fucking bitch isn't useful for anything. She was a useless mother to me, and she's a useless mother to my sister, Addie, now. I wish I could go back and help her, but I just don't want to leave this house. Or I can't, whatever, it's not like I have anywhere to go. And do you want to know what the worst part of it all is? The voices just got louder, after it happened. Only I couldn't ignore them so much anymore, because they were equal now. There's no point in a ghost, or whatever I am, pretending he doesn't believe in supernatural forces, right?

You'd think that the worst part is the loneliness, but it's not. I don't mind being alone. I was alone most of my life before and that wasn't so bad. I like to be quiet, and I like to read, which is why I just can't handle the voices anymore. I give into them now, because they quiet down when I do. They make me do bad things, I think. I don't do the bad things for me, I do them for her. I don't like living people so much, they're too much, just too much. But it's been a year or so since we had any, give or take a few months. After seventeen years of today you forget when it is, or at least that's what I find.

Muffled voices from outside the house brought me out of my mind, and I thought I could pick out the slightly sharp tone of Marcy, the fucking realtor assigned to this house. She may look like a nice, sensible woman looking to give people a good deal on a huge house, but she's a monster as much as I am, I tell you now. She smiled at the couple, the queers from before, and told them this was the perfect house for them. Nothing out of the ordinary here, boys, it's perfect for you. Oh, the price? Well, it's a little on the low side, but only because I want it to go to a budding young family that can breathe some life into it again, you'll make wonderful parents. I sneered from the top of the stairs, already knowing those queens were never going to walk out of the house again. You could tell by the way they looked around, perverted, greedy leers on their faces as they eyed the 'real tiffany light fixtures' and the 'original wall murals'. They were here to stay. That is, if I allowed them to. I kept an eye on them as they walked around the house. Marcy was the master of bullshit, I'll give her that. She put a bright, plastic spin on everything shitty about this house, and the queens were eating it up. I hated them already.

"So, what do you think, gentlemen? Is this the house of your dreams?" She plastered a worn-out smile on her features and waited, apprehensively, for their answer. In the pause that followed I would have held my breath, if I had need of it, hoping they both would and would not take it.

"I can't see how this wouldn't be someone's dream house," the dark haired man drawled.

"We'll take it," the blonde added, sparing little more than a glance for the man by his side. Guess we know who wears the trousers in that relationship then. I thought Marcy was about to explode with how exuberant she was, so desperate to get rid of this house once and for all. Though, of course, we both knew that wasn't going to be the case. These two wouldn't last here, not with everyone still so mad all the time. They'd just join the masses, and adapt, like me.

"Excellent, well, I'll leave you two to get acquainted with your new house, and I'll be back with the paperwork in a couple of hours. You should be able to be fully moved in by the end of the week," she beamed, before turning on her heel and click, click, clicking down the hall and out the front door. As soon as the door had closed, the brunette turned to his partner and smiled.

"It's perfect, Pat, isn't it?" He touched his forearm, manicured fingertips brushing against his bare flesh.

"Sure. We'll be piled under a mountain of debt thirty stories high, but it's perfect."

"And our baby, our babies! They'll grow up here, there's so much space! Such a huge lawn, did you see it? You can teach them to ride their bikes out front, I can bake, I mean look at this kitchen! Sure it could do with some refurb but when it's finished? Patrick, it's going to be beautiful!" The shorter man gushed. I grit my teeth, willing myself not to punch him in the face. I fucking hated his type. They had to buy this house now though, that much was clear to me. They wanted to raise a family, and she wanted a baby. I'd promised her I'd get one, and this was the solution. I couldn't go out and get her a baby, so the baby would come to the house, and to a mother that could really love it.

"You're cute when you're imagining things," 'Patrick' said, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulders.

"Not just things, Pat. Our lives. Our life, together. Forever, in this house." He didn't know how right he was.

"Ever the optimist, Chad my dear," the blonde smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to 'Chad's' temple before moving away.

"Shall we take a little tour of our own?" Chad suggested, raising one heavy dark brow.

"Marcy already showed us everything," Patrick trailed slowly, frowning at his lover.

"Yes, but there's one room I don't think we got a proper look at," Chad continued, still raising that one stupid eyebrow.

"Oh, oh I agree. The master bedroom could certainly do with a more… thorough investigation," Patrick agreed, grinning and holding his hand out. Chad took it, and they raced up the staircase together, narrowly missing me as a stood against the railing.

"God, they're going to be hard to tolerate," I muttered under my breath, before descending the stairs and rounding the hall towards the basement. I pushed the door open with my finger tips and followed the sound of the hollow sobs to find her. She was perched on the edge of a large wooden box, crying into a yellowing handkerchief.

"Life's too short for so much sorrow," I said quietly, and she looked up at me.

"You're wrong, it's an eternity," she managed, before breaking into tears again.

"Dry your eyes, Nora, I think I've found your baby." I smiled at her, desperate to see her smile back and kiss my hair again, just once.

"You… where is my baby? I just want my baby," she wailed, turning her head away from me. I took a few steps closer and placed my fingertip and thumb on her delicate chin, lifting her eyes to look at me.

"Nora… it's me, Tate. Remember? I wished you were my mother, and I promised I'd find your baby. The people moving into the house are getting a baby, and it's yours, if you want me to get it for you." Her eyes brightened and she smiled at me, radiant and maternal in a way that made my heart ache.

"Tate… such a good boy. My Thaddeus hasn't been giving you too much trouble, has he?" She fretted, worrying the handkerchief between her fingers. I let go of her face and shook my head. I just tell him to go away, like you told me to. He tried to hurt my sister, not me again. I told him to go away, Nora, like you told me." She nodded and stilled her hands in her lap. She didn't touch me, but she'd stopped crying. I got her to stop crying.

"Good, that's my good boy. You're a good boy, Tate, to find me my baby." I nodded, smiling back at her.

"You deserve to have one, Nora; you'll make a wonderful mother."

"I did," she nodded, and I saw her lower lip quiver with unshed tears. "My Thaddeus," she trailed, before turning away from me. "Don't mind me, dear, but I need to rest, my baby… I need my baby." I grit my teeth and set my jaw, straightening and turning to go.

"I won't fail you, Nora. You won't see me again until I can give you a baby," I promised, before leaving to check on the new residents again. Judging by the quiet, they'd finished up whatever they had been doing, and for that I was glad. I don't think I could control myself if they'd been doing that in front of me.

"Why do you never want to stay with me, after we fuck, anymore Patrick," Chad said, matter-of-factly. I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly, this side of the door. His tone had been too neutral for such a provocative, accusatory statement.

"I've never been the cuddling kind of queer, Chad, you know that," he retorted. The whole situation was so curious; I decided to brave the room itself. I'd never really been in the master bedroom of the house, even when I lived here. It just reminded me that my dad left because of the maid, and that my mother was a drunk who ended up here with young men every weekend, sometimes younger than me. I'd never felt the need to go in there, it was a place of lies and open violations of the marital vowels my parents had sworn upon before they'd had me and my siblings. It seemed fitting that now it was soiled by these two. Very fitting indeed. Chad was sitting, propped up against the pillows on the master bed that looked like it was going to fall apart any second. Patrick was sitting in a chair by the window, hunched over a laptop. To my relief, he was wearing underwear, though I couldn't be sure Chad was and so therefore I prayed he wouldn't get up anytime soon.

"Don't give me that shit; when we first got together, you were always the cuddling type. Don't make it sound so… so…" Chad trailed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish drowning in open air. I wanted to cut him with a butcher's knife.

"So what? Queer? I've got news for you Chad; you're as fucking camp as they come. And I'm just starting to get sick of it!" Patrick muttered, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. I strained up on the tips of my toes, trying to get a look at what was so interesting on his computer, but he shut the screen just as I got into position, as if he knew. Maybe he was just over-paranoid and doing something that he shouldn't have been. Either way it piqued my interest… maybe these people would be interesting for a while.