dollhouse

Pouring a glass of bourbon, Sawyer was about to sharpen one of his knives when he heard something clatter behind him. Confused–and a little annoyed that someone was able to sneak in behind him–the sociopath turned. Eyes traveling from the knife that was on the ground to the young ghost standing above it, Sawyer’s eyes narrowed in on the blood that covered her. 

Opening his mouth to say something about her entrance, Sawyer was caught off guard by the word that came from Salem’s lips. Eyebrows lifting, the ghost took a few steps closer to Samantha’s daughter–carefully pushing the knife away, just in case she got a little stab happy. Taking her by the shoulders, Sawyer lead her to his bed. “Tell me what happened.” 

Salem’s motions were robotic as Sawyer lead her over to his bed, and stiffly she sat. She nodded, though not necessarily in response to his question. She was nodding at her understanding of what had just happened, at what she’d just done to her own Goddamn brother. All that blood. Her lip twitched into a smile, if only for a brief moment. All that blood.

Her nodding continued, a little faster paced as she let out the words, “I killed him. I... killed Blair.” It was bittersweet, leaving her lips, a truth now out there in the open for anyone to hear. Anyone to use against her. Not that they would, after all, who would use anything against a girl who killed her own brother? What did this even make her? A psychopath? A sociopath? Just a girl who had a bad day? 

Just as she was about to grab the present, something - or rather, someone - grabbed her hair. “H-” Whatever sound was going to leave her mouth stopped as soon as she felt something cold and sharp touch her skin. She froze, eyes wide. Why was someone holding a knife to her? Then, the voice. Salem. The witch pressed her lips together in a thin line. “…. N-no,” Olivia finally managed to breathe out, her gaze shooting over to her nightstand. Her boline knife was in there, to protect herself, but she wasn’t entirely sure how she could grab it from the position she was in. “W-what… why are you here?” Her voice came out in a small whisper, unable make it louder.

Salem, although dark in her nature, was a very playful spirit. Her energy had a way of confusing people, and if Olivia didn’t already know her so well she might have used that against her. Instead it was a game of cat and mouse, Olivia being the mouse in this instant. She was sure Blair had told her all about the horrible things she’d done growing up, from haunting to harming the living and dead alike to her ongoing need to spill blood. Didn’t help that she grew up with role models such as a poltergeist and a serial killer. You almost couldn’t blame her for the way she turned out. 

@daughterdeath

Olivia sat on her bed, rifling through the contents of the basket in front of her. For Valentine’s Day, the witch wanted to do something special for Blair…. well, as special as it could be, considering one of the two couldn’t leave the house. A picnic in the backyard, she had decided a week before, would be nice for the two. She seemed to have everything… wait, where was his present? Liv furrowed her brow, standing up from her spot and soothing down her pink dress. She leaned down to her nightstand, opening up the first drawer, then the second. Not there. She sighed to herself. Quickly, she knelt down, peering into the darkness from under her bed. Catching a glint of silver wrapping paper behind some random items, the witch smiled. Quickly, she started to push away the other stuff, trying to reach the present.

Salem had been spying on the witch, unseen to the eye of the living or dead ---- for days. She was kindhearted, sweet, different than all of the other sorority girls. The ghost could almost see why her brother had taken a liking to her. What was it about her that was so inviting? She almost hated her. Perfectly peculiar. And she was about to give her one of the most wonderful gifts of all. Eternal youth for Olivia, and a real chance at love for her sibling. And of course, a gift to herself, another kill. 

Covered in blood. This wasn’t something that Salem was usually opposed to, but this time was different. This time it left an emptiness in her eyes, a stiffness in her step. She had ghosted to the attic, not knowing where else to turn. God knows she couldn’t go to her mother. Dropping the knife she’d used to butcher her brother, the sound of it clinking to the floor was her first clue of being present. Soon followed a hesitant, lost voice ---- “D-dad...?” 

Danny’s eyes closed. He was going to need every bit of determination to make it out of the room. Just a few years ago, he’d been happy. He was on a journey to find his mother in the house that he had only spent a few months if a year in. All because of some rumor that the dead walked the house. Now, the brunette had found himself trapped in the house–thanks to some asshole ghosts with a penchant for murder. 

He was trapped not only in the house, but in his own damn room as well. He had become a hermit. Not that he hadn’t always been awkward, but thanks to death he had been beset with all kinds of new and stressful anxieties. He needed something normal in his life. He needed to force some kind of feeling back into him. The boy only hoped that said forcing could be done with baking. 

Taking another deep breath, Danny focused on the kitchen. On the counter tops. On the refrigerator. Anything to make where he wanted to be as plain as can be. 

Opening his eyes, the boy smiled as he found himself where he wanted to be. Finally. 

Salem was bored out of her wits, most of the fraternity boys were out of the house for end of the year parties or whatever it was they did when they were away. And the girls? She couldn’t care less about. They weren’t as fun to play with. Sitting upon the counter top in the kitchen with her fingers dipped into a container of chocolate cake frosting, the petite psychopath dug up a clump of the sweet treat and stuck it into her mouth just on time for another to appear in the kitchen.

?? ;; DRUNK text.

Having made a blanket-bed in one of the lesser-roamed hallways, she had assumed that everyone got the gist that she had claimed this place— but apparently not everyone. Sitting up from her make shift bed as she heard footsteps, she called out. “Hey! This is my hallway, leave it!”

A laugh bubbled from the young psychopath’s lips. Had this girl really just said it was her hallway? The house and every hall in it was more hers than this girl’s. After all, she’d been born into it. The way Salem saw it, everything and everyone in that goddamn house belonged to her. “You know, I was just passing through ---- but now that you seem to have such a big problem with me being here, I think I’ll take my time.” She rose her brows, folding her arms as she perched herself against the wall. Some people made it too easy.

“Because there’s nothing good about it.” The ghost had barely spoken to anyone other than Olivia in the past few months, something about being around that one specific lifeling had him a bit hopeful for the others— but this one was… different? Her vibes were lively and deathly all alike. He didn’t know if he could trust her, yet words kept slipping from him, that little voice at the back of his mind cursing at him for being so careless. “Beer is completely impractical, does nothing for a buzz or ease. Tastes disgusting as well.”

“So what’s the hype all about?” The dark haired spirit scrunched up her nose, her attention remaining down on the bottle. “It’s like, all that’s in the fridge lately.” She rolled her eyes at that unpleasant discovery. Not that she was a big eater, but when there was no one to taunt and play with, a snack did the trick once in a while.

Eden scrunched up her nose, picking up the bottle right after Salem set it on the table. “Some people claim that beer is an acquired taste, or some stupid shit like that,” she paused to take a quick sip of the beer and grimaced to herself, “but those people are liars. Beer is disgusting.” Despite her words, the petite spirit took another swig before setting the bottle down. “Alcohol is only good when you can’t taste alcohol,” the brunette said with a shrug of her shoulder, blue eyes glancing to her friend. “I bet some sorority sister hid wine coolers or something in the fridge, if you wanna try a good drink.”

And what kind of victims have you had, little lady? 

“I dunno, dumb boys mostly.”

Looks like they got rid of school kids. 

Here’s to all the easy victims….