It had been a long time since Blaire had seen the house. It was still captivating. The colossal structure loomed with beauty. Everything about the house took Blaire's breath away. She gravitated towards the lot. Each step filled her with empty stomach with butterflies.
The butterflies dissipated when she peered in the window. It was different. The house wasn't the same. It wasn't the house she knew. The furniture was different. The walls were different. It was different.
Disheartened, she returned to the sidewalk. She'd travelled so far to see the house… to see him. Hoisting her battered duffle bag higher up on her shoulder, she started walking. She didn't get far before she felt a pull back towards the house. It called her name.
She turned. Her eyes scanned the neighborhood. The pull shifted from the house, her house, to the one next to it. It was a quaint yellow building. In a trance she stalked to the front porch. She knocked three times on the door.
She half expected the home to be empty, but the door swung open. She was met with a surprise.
"Well, well, well, Miss Stafford. What an unexpected appearance."
"Constance, you whore," Blaire strained.
Constance looked the same as she did over a decade ago. Her face had aged, though it still was strikingly beautiful. Her golden hair was immaculately styled and paired with a flattering outfit.
"You're still a lady, I see," Constance smiled. "Come in."
Not having any other options, Blaire agreed. She followed Constance into the house. It was filled with furniture and photos she recognized. They comforted her. Constance led her to the kitchen and ordered her to sit. Like an obedient drone, Blaire dropped her bag and flopped onto a chair. Constance leaned over the counter. She poured coffee into two cups and then sat across from Blaire.
"So, darling," Constance drawled. "What's it been? 10 years? 15 years?"
"Almost 18," Blaire said flatly.
Constance didn't dance around her words, "You had a chance to leave, and you took it. Why'd you come back?"
"You know why," Blaire exhaled.
Constance threw her head back and let out a laugh, "You're a little too late for that one, sweetheart. Our little Tate has a new love."
"W-what?" Blaire stuttered. "You're lying to me. Tate can't…"
"He moved on," Constance cackled. "With the little slut next door."
"He told me he'd wait for me," Blaire muttered as she cast her eyes to the table.
"You know how delicate he is. He is still stuck in the past, you know."
"He still doesn't remember?"
Constance shook her head, "The family that just moved in next door, the father is a therapist. Tate is seeing him. I was hoping it'd help him remember... but instead it's just drove him further away."
"Wait, the family next door? You said that's where Tate's new… friend lives. Is she human?"
"I'm afraid so."
Blaire rubbed her neck, stunned. She'd traveled so far to come back to him. He was her life. Everything she had done, it was for him.
A look of clarity and discovery fell onto Constance's face. She leaned forward in her seat and said, "You know… you and I, we aren't so different. We can work together."
"What do you mean?" Blaire questioned.
"I want the house and you want him. We can work together. If you steal Tate away from that little bitch, Violet, she'll hate it there. She'll force her family to leave."
Blaire weighed her limited options. Constance's plan seemed to be the only logical one. Blaire had nothing to lose. She threw all her cards on the table.
With a heavy sigh, Blaire agreed, "Okay."
"Perfect. You can stay in the study for now. Before you get cozy, you might want to go next door and see the disgusting display of puppy love. They've been out back all morning."
Blaire set the cup down on the table and left the house without saying a word. She let herself through the gate, something she had done countless times before, and slowly stalked to the back yard. When she spotted Tate and the girl, she hid behind a tall pillar.
Tate. It had been so long since she'd seen him, but he still stirred the same feelings in her as he did the first time she saw him. He'd always cast a spell over her. Blaire's feelings towards Tate were only masked by the jealousy. The girl, Constance called her Violet, was stunning. She had an innocent air about her, though she looked as if she wanted to be tough.
Blaire couldn't hide anymore. She revealed herself. She approached the porch ledge where she sat with Tate countless times before. It took a few seconds for the two to realize she was there. When Tate looked up, his face fell into confusion.
"Blaire," He whispered loud enough for her to hear.
"Hi, Tate," Blaire mocked. She had rehearsed what she would say to him, but she forgot it all when he said her name. "I've missed you."
Violet lifted herself away from Tate and asked with confusion, "Who are you?"
Both Tate and Blaire ignored her. Tate stood to face Blaire.
"You left," Tate swallowed. "I thought you left."
Blaire reached up and placed a hand gently on his face, "I did. I went away for a while, but I'm back now. I'm back for good."
"Tate?" Violet exclaimed angrily. "Tate, tell me what's going on."
Finally realizing she was there, Tate looked over. His black eyes flickered and his face trembled. He looked from Violet to Blaire before storming away. He left the two girls alone in shock. It wasn't what Blaire had envisioned, and Violet… Violet was hurt.
She channeled that hurt into anger. She gave Blaire a hard push. Taken off guard, she stumbled backwards.
"Who do you think you are?" Violet spat.
Blaire composed herself, "Who do you think you are? Do you think you actually know Tate? You don't know anything about him. You aren't special. We had an untouchable love- a love that ended in death on both sides… a modern day Romeo and Juliet."
She walked away. She didn't want to deal with Violet anymore. Nothing had happened as she planned.
Violet had another plan, though. She stomped after Blaire, pulling her around.
"What do you mean ended in death on both sides?" She questioned. "You're a ghost too?"
Blaire pressed her lips, "We're all ghosts."
This time when she walked away, Violet didn't come after her.
Name: Blaire Leona Stafford
Species: Human – Ghost
Age: Killed at the age of 18
Weight: 105 lbs.
Figure: Body type similar to Kate Moss' in the early 90s.
Hair color: Dark brown
Hairstyle: Extends half way down back, naturally straight, fringed bangs
Eye color: Brown
Skin: Very pale and porcelain like
Scars/distinguishing marks: Old cutting marks mostly on her thighs. A few cutting marks on her wrist, including the one from her suicide.
Preferred style of clothing: Grunge and heroin chic