"It's a classic LA Victorian built around 1920 by the doctor to the stars at the time," I heard the real estate agent recite to the potential buyers for what felt like the millionth time since she was appointed to selling this house. Only once she succeeded—a same sex couple who thought redecorating would cover up the fact that everyone who has ever lived here has died almost brutal deaths. It's their fault, in all honesty. They were the ones who thought they could acquaint their insignificant lives in a house that did not belong to them.
It belonged to Violet.
I did it for her—all the deaths and hauntings and fear was to keep her soul intact within the walls, even though she has been gone for 17 years. It's like my own personal vendetta to her to make sure that her death is worth more than any life that set foot in her house. And if these buyers were to purchase the house, the same inevitable fate would meet them.
As the realtor placed descriptions of the interior, I snuck my head around the corner of a wall to listen to a man as he whispered, "Tiffany, wow," to a smaller female before nudging her and walking ahead. For a moment, I admired the back of her head and as her golden hair pooled on the shoulders of the mustard coloured cardigan she had on. My eyes then trailed past her floral dress and to the small black boots. Everything about her screamed Violet, but I knew that my mind was just wishing it could be. Now it'll be even harder to slit her throat if her family decided to move in.
The girl wandered for a while, touching the old wood and stepping on the floor until it groaned. Look at her, marking her way across Violet's house like it could be hers. Too bad such beauty can hold the most terrifying darkness.
She turned her head abruptly as my foot made a creaking sound when I stepped back.
No, she can't see me now, not yet.
Her footsteps inched closer, and it was about the time when I started to think of the way I'll have to muffle her surprised screams and quickly snap her neck before anyone notices her lengthy absence. The steps halted when someone called out, "Violet!" and they faded off into another room. My whole body tensed once hearing her name spilled from the lips of another, now branding this girl as the woman I love.
It had to be a coincidence that this girl was named Violet. It had to be a fluke that her golden locks were uncannily alike my Violet's. It had to be every single explanation that abstracted from the idea that it could actually be her.
A hand fell on my shoulder, startling me. Constance was standing there with a shrewdly expression upon her preserved face. "Is that Violet?" she asked, her voice rid of any mockery or spite. Merely fascination.
"I-I don't know," I whispered, gulping. "I need to find out."
Constance's hand held me tighter so I couldn't walk before she said, "Do you think, even if it is her, that she'll remember you?"
She had a point. My Violet died, along with all these memories of us. There was no knowing that this Violet knew who I was.
"Tell me, Tate," Constance said. "Do you think she is a reincarnation?"
It took me a second to soak in her theory, but once it did, the pieces seemed to fit into place.
"So if I told you that I'm from the future, you'd believe me?" Violet had said to me all those years ago. I realised now that what she had confessed about the future actually came true—the shooting, my death; it all made sense. She wasn't a reincarnation; this was the beginning of everything that lead up to her falling into the past and meeting me, and now it was my turn to meet her again.
I turned to look Constance in the eye before saying "no" and pursuing the room Violet had gone into. Looking into the kitchen carefully, I watched as the realtor continued to boast her way into selling this God-damned hellhole to this family. Violet was preoccupied by inspecting the yard through the back door, so it gave me a moment to recollect her beauty. Her skin was like it always was; a delicate porcelain crème shade that left a faint blush to rise from her translucent cheeks. Her jaw was still sharp and guarded, but soft enough to place heated kisses to. The only thing missing was in her eyes, and what I meant by that was that they lacked hope, or self-purpose. This girl lacked any influence on my behalf, and I knew it would hurt me until the second I got to greet her.
Something scuttled by my feet—a small white dog stared curiously up at me, a faint growl boiling from its throat. I placed my finger to my lips as I took a few steps back, but it continued to follow with that protector-esque stance. Soon enough, it began to bark, so I quickly made haste and hid myself behind the door to the basement.
"What are you yapping at?" I caught Violet say in that same beautiful voice as she approached; I hadn't heard it in such a long time. Sometimes I thought I could hear her through the walls if I listened really closely, but it hardly compared to hearing it now.
Her figure silhouetted against the frosted glass of the door, and I had barely any time to bolt down the steps and hide before she attempted to open it.
The light flicked on as she made her descend into the basement, and I crawled behind a broken vent on the back wall. Violet stood there for a moment filled with curiosity and not a hint of fear. For a split second, her eyes fell upon me—but I wasn't sure if she actually saw me until she approached. I knew I'd be caught when she got a better look, but as soon as her foot stepped over the place I had laid her dead body once, she shivered and retreated. It gave me a chance to relax before I followed her back up at a safe distance.
"—Murder suicide," I caught on to the realtor as Violet went into the room and I stayed behind the wall. "I sold them the house, too. They were just the sweetest couple. You never know I guess."
"Where did it happen?" Violet asked.
"The basement," she responded. Violet's eyes flickered to the corner of the door, too fast for me to fall back unnoticed. She had to have seen me, but all she said was, "We'll take it."
And with that, I was determined to make her fall in love with me for the first time, twice.
A/N: Well, that's it, guys, it's all over! Thank you so much for everyone who read, followed, favourited, and took the time to write me a review. You have no idea how much I love this story, but I love even more that you all stood by it after such a long time between updates. So, thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed the ending as much as I did wrapping it up. *teary eyed* Love, Mei-Fabula xo