Chapter Text
After the disaster of your failed marriage, you felt pretty fortunate to be able to get a place of your own...even if it was the infamous Murder House. When you saw the price was actually something you could afford and the location far enough away to give you a fresh start, it was kind of a "fuck it" turning point.
Your friends had mostly abandoned you after everything that had went down, you were an only child, and your parents were dead. What did you have to lose? Your life? Ha! As if you even had one.
The realtor practically cried when you said you'd take it. You could see the fear in her eyes though. It had been a few years since anyone had died there but it hadn't had a family last for more than a month since the Harmons died. The record for the shortest time was a single night. (Held by the Ramos'.)
At least you wouldn't be fully alone. The only bright spot in the divorce was you got to keep your dog. Nova had kept you sane throughout the past year with her cuddles and soothing presence. She never liked your ex-husband anyway. Guess you should've trusted her instincts. Getting married was way cheaper than getting unmarried, legally. It was a good thing the house came mostly furnished. All you really had were your clothes and Nova's things and all your books. That fireplace was just begging for you to curl up in front of it with a book, a blanket, and a cup of coffee.
Tate and Moira watched your arrival from an upstairs window.
"Oh, she has a dog! Look at all that fur- it's going to require so much more cleaning. I do hope it's house trained."
"Hey, a dog could be fun! We've only ever had little yappy ones here. It sure is pretty-like a wolf." Tate watches Nova trot alongside you as you drag two suitcases up the sidewalk.
"I suppose it's a good thing to have a large dog when you're a single woman living alone. Did you hear her tell the realtor that she was newly divorced? Scandalous!"
"I mean, she does look awful young to be married and divorced. But who knows what happened- you shouldn't jump to conclusions." Tate chastises her, watching you disappear from view with a frown.
"I suppose I should go introduce myself. A young woman on her own will surely need my help managing this large of a house."
"Do you really think that's a good idea? You haven't shown yourself to any of the others. You think she's going to last past a month?"
Moira gives him a sideways glance. "Hm. Something about this one. She's different. Plus, Christmas is less than a month away. We could at least let her stay for the holidays."
You stand in the foyer gazing up at the staircase and ceiling. It doesn't feel real. That's where Ben Harmon hung himself. The Murder House is now your home. You did your research before you completed the purchase of the house. Discovered who all had died or disappeared within these walls. Heard the accounts of the previous brief owners. Haunted they said. With so many deaths under one roof, it really wasn't surprising. You didn't necessarily believe in ghosts, but you didn't not believe either. Just hadn't had any experiences personally to MAKE you a believer. Until now.
"Eep!" You squeak as you walk into the kitchen and find someone standing there.
"Oh hello! I didn't mean to frighten you. You must be the new mistress of the house. I don't know if the realtor mentioned but I've been employed by previous owners, I'm..."
"You're Moira..." You breathe, interrupting her in amazement. "Oh my God."
Moira freezes in shock, staring back at you open mouthed.
"The house really is haunted, oh my God."
"I...I have no idea what you are talking about ma'am, I assure you that..." She stammers, hand to her chest.
"You're Moira O'Hara, you disappeared in the 80's after working here as a maid. They never found your body."
"Oh dear." Not knowing what to do in this unexpected situation, Moira simply vanishes.
"Can I say it?" Tate smirks at Moira as she appears upstairs. "Can I say it?"
She glares at him disapprovingly.
"I told you sooooo. Told you it wasn't a good idea!"
"Oh hush! How was I to know she'd know who I was? That's never happened before!" She wrings her hands as she paces back and forth.
"What's going on?" Vivien appears behind them.
"Moira appeared to the new owner and she recognized her." Tate informs her.
"You know her Moira??"
"No! She knew me!" She frets.
"Knew she'd disappeared after working here and all."
Vivien purses her lips. "Clearly she did better than me at researching the history of the house she was buying. If she knows about Moira, it's probably safe to assume she knows about most or all of us."
"Holy fuck." You whisper to yourself as you drag one of your suitcases up the stairs.
The house really WAS haunted. You just spoke to a ghost. Who clearly wasn't prepared for you to know who she was. It made you wonder who else was haunting the halls of your new home.
The house was huge- way more space than you really needed. You wandered through the upstairs, testing your memory and the research you'd done. You can identify the room that was clearly being prepared for a nursery and the master bedroom where Viven Harmon had claimed she was raped. Considering you only heard whispers about it, gossip on the internet, you weren't sure what the truth was. It did however make you drag your suitcase past the large room to a smaller darker bedroom. This had been the Harmon's daughter Violet's room, and before that school shooter and murderer Tate Langdon had lived and died in this very room. Creepy...but kind of cool too.
Tate watches as you walk around his old bedroom, Violet's old bedroom, Gabriel's bedroom for a single night. He feels such a bitter loneliness. The loneliness he'd always known, sharpened and distilled after Violet's love for him had turned sour. He thought they'd be together forever and instead he hadn't seen her since the night she'd saved Gabriel Ramos. He hadn't shown himself to any of the subsequent fleeting owners. No point really when the Harmons scared them away so fast. You however...you were proving to be interesting. It was kind of funny to see a ghost being spooked by you instead of you spooked by them.
You flip through a stack of CDs on the desk. Lots of 80s and 90s rock, not bad. You listened to a little bit of almost everything yourself. A whine from Nova has you glancing up to see her staring down a corner of the room.
"What is it? Or is it more of a, who is it?" You walk over to rub between her ears. "Do we have a shy ghostly visitor?" You stare intently towards the corner but there's nothing or no one you can see. Shrugging, you start unpacking.