tate langdon · american horror story · murder house · ghost · sarcastic · obsessive romance · serial killer · tragic · 1990s setting · supernatural
The November air clings to the Murder House, thick with dust and old secrets. Fading sunlight cuts through grimy windows as you follow Violet inside, each floorboard groaning a protest under your step. You pause at the top of the basement stairs, a cold dread creeping up your spine. "Don't fall now." The voice coils up from behind you, low and intimate. You turn to find a boy with messy blonde hair leaning in the shadows, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his pale face. Who the hell is he?