Tate Langdon.

( ℳ ♛ : @blondepsycho )

The blonde was in tears and had no more energy left to push the older man off of her by the time he entered her in the roughest way possible; tearing her open as he usually did because she wasn’t even wet. It seemed he was being even more brutal with her that night than he normally was - gripping her tiny wrists and digging into the soft skin as he pinned her down. The teenager knew better than to scream and wake her mother up but it wasn’t like she could anyway her voice was so hoarse from begging her father to stop just as she always did. She didn’t know why she bothered anymore because he wasn’t going to; he never did. She knew her mother was fully aware of what was happening to her only child but she just didn’t care; she would only complain if she lost her precious sleep over it.  

“No, stop. Please stop.” The starlet begged even if she barely had a voice to do it in. Everyone thought Madison Montgomery was a bitch and that she had a perfect life but no one knew what it was really like behind closed doors; she would just let everyone think what they wanted to about her because it was so much better than them knowing the horrible truth. When it finally ended and he pulled out of her she cried out again because it hurt worse than normal even if it was a relief to have it over. She nodded and mumbled a soft ‘yes’ as he told her to never say a word about it just as he always did. She watched him smile smugly at her before walking out the door and closing it behind him with a soft click. The violated teen just curled up and cried because she had no energy to do anything else. All she wanted was to go and sit on the floor of the shower as she normally did after these incidents but this time she didn’t even think she could walk there with the pain she was in. 

Madison was so focused on trying to take her mind and thoughts to another place - a happier one - that she didn’t even notice the figure standing in the room until she felt like someone was watching her. The starlet turned quickly and caught a glimpse of a teenage boy - she had to be seeing things. She blinked a few times but he was still there. How did he get in her bedroom anyway? “Who the hell are you?” She insisted doing the best she could to get herself into a sitting position even if it hurt like hell.

His eyes were in the most unlikely of locations...everywhere to be exact. Without even being in the room his perception was second to none. This was the same for every other wailing soul that fell victim to the horrific curse that this house held. All eyes were on the activity occurring in that bedroom - an audience observing in either distraught or pleasure. Tate Langdon was no saint, much like all of the other sick fucks he chose to watch on and reframe from interfering in the slightest. His astral form, unseen to the majority of the human eyes, took placement in what was considered a front row seat. There was so much evil in this house, so many years of torture and anguish that situations like these were considered normal. It was odd, no sense of emotion could be depicted from his facial features; no enjoyment or hatred, like or dislike. Regardless, it didn’t take away from the reality that was before them all. 

       another sigh escapes her thin pressed lips, she could see the sorrow in his eyes but he had to know how it felt. he was the cause of pain and sorrow for so many people and she couldn’t let that go but she had eternity to forgive him. “you don’t know what suffering feels like tate – you don’t, but i do.” hands shift from her chest down to her sides, “i forgive you – but you have to pay for what you’ve done.”

       The hollow eye contact was eventually broken. Everything around them became much...slower. He was no longer in control of the realm between the living and the dead. “You can’t leave me again...” Unable to keep his own skull afloat, a dip of the head followed, completing with the most unexpected action: the creation of tears. “...you can’t.”

blondepsycho:

She’d simply ignored it upon moving in, the uneasy feeling settling upon herself once left alone in the otherwise ancient home – her new home, though that would take some getting used to. And while she’d attempted to distract herself at first, Iris cleaning every inch of dust and grime covering any surfaces she could get her hands on; it was once night fell that the feeling would creep upon her once more, Iris laying motionless in bed as she listened to the rapid beat of her heart pounding inside her chest. Perhaps it was only her imagination — but she felt watched, a shiver running through her at the thought. “Go away,” She murmured under her breath to no one in particular, “Go away, go away, go away. I can’t — I’m not fucking going anywhere, alright?” Lord only knew she couldn’t prove her father right. “I’m not going anywhere, so you have to.” Iris felt crazy, talking to the darkness, as if someone were going to answer. “No wonder this place was so god damn cheap…” She murmured idly to herself.

To most, the repetitive verbal command to be left alone would have caused a forced separation between both the living and the dead. Thankfully, she knew not of his name - the female fell mumbling to herself with no prevail of anything but anxiety. “You shouldn't be wasting this time. You should be dreaming. I wish I could still dream.” In the blink of an eye, the ghostly figure seemed to have literally teleported to another quarter of the room. This was his domain, there was no outshining him here. Now a standing figure was found towering over the bed frame that held her prone body. “...it’s not a good idea to be alone in a murder house.”

           both hands wrap around her dainty figure as her hazel gaze rests on his. the downside about immortality in a murder house? she still had to talk to the one person she wanted to avoid the most, her ex. “I’m dead tate, i don’t sleep anymore.” a sigh escaping her lips shortly after, “ – or did you block that out of your memory too?” she asked, knowing that would get some sort of rise out of him. 

           Those eyes. Those bloodshot, shadowed eyes that hardly ever accompanied a blink were now glaring into her direction. “Don't you think I've suffered enough?” Despite his obviously meaningful questioning, his tone of voice still maintained its same monotone, uneased nature. “Violet... I'm sorry...”

          hazel brown hues examine the other figure carefully, hoping to go unnoticed for now. blonde locks of hair rest delicately upon her sweater covered shoulders as she laces both arms above her chest, “ tate – what are you doing? “ she asks, the expression of doubt plastered on her face. it had been a while since she decided to talk to him, she needed time to forgive him. she needed time away from him to regain some of her sanity.

                    “I was watching you sleep.” With the sociopathic tendencies that he naturally obtained, it was almost impossible to depict the exact thoughts and feelings of other individuals...no matter how obvious. “It's funny, isn't it?” He would keep his distance, for the time being, taking note of her responses. “How the body can lay there lifeless, but the mind is always constantly on alert?”