Murder House

Chapter 1: New House

I stared up at the huge house that sat in front of my eyes. I didn't want to move here...I wanted to go back to Boston.

"Marissa?" the soft voice of my grandmother slipped out through the air beside me.

I turned my head to look at her. Her eyes were filled with worry but she still wore a sweet smile.

I couldn't help but smile back at her. I didn't want her to know how much I already hated this house. "Come one," I motioned, walking over to the front door.

My grandmother smiled, her eyes now full of relief as she followed me inside.

I was most definitely a lover of the arts, but something about the old Victorian vibe gave me the shivers. It looked as though previous owners had tried to modernize the old, creepy house, but it just made it look tacky. I grimaced, looking up and down the walls as I continued into the fully redone kitchen.

"Well," I smiled, setting some bags up onto the counter. "It's interesting."

My grandmother frowned, "I know it's different," she sighed, setting my purse onto the counter. "But after what happened...I thought getting away from home would be best for you."

I sighed. She was right. I felt an overwhelming wave of comfortability being out of my old house...out of the house where it had all happened.

"Here you'll have a fresh start," she smiled, taking me out of my thoughts. "A new school, a new home, new friends..."

I exhaled, picking my bags back up, "So, where am I sleeping?"

"Upstairs. It's the second room on the right."

I grinned, picking up as many of my bags as I could and stumbling down the hall to find the stairs.

"I'll bring in the rest of your things and drop them in the kitchen," I heard my grandmother shout from the front door.

I shook my head, "Thank you!" I called out in response.

The stairs were old and winding and creepy. I felt uncomfortable just placing my feet on the steps. There was something about this house that just didn't feel right.

My grandmother had painted my room a charcoal gray which looked beautiful against the maroon and white bed spread. The head board looked like an ancient sculpture restored with glossy black paint. There was Greek-like filagree spiraling above the bed, gracefully. She had also put in a desk for me and scattered various art supplies across them. I smiled, she new my exact taste.

I dropped some of my bags on the floor and proceeded to collect the rest from downstairs. I didn't have many bags. When getting ready to move out of my old house, I did a lot of purging. I threw away bags and bags of things that it didn't need or brought back toxic memories. It left me with a few suitcases of clothes, my record collection, my comic books, and my drawing supplies.

I scanned the room again, finding the dressers and drawers, and just getting a feel of my new bedroom. As it was looking, my eyes landed on something particularly striking. I walked closer to it, trying to figure out where it had come from...but I didn't know. It just showed up.

"Gram?" I shouted from the top of the stairs, smiling to myself.

"Yes?" she replied, walking up to the bottom of the stairs.

"Thank you, I love it!" I giggled before racing back up the stairs to my bedroom.

I leapt onto my bed in excitement, clothes flying off of it every which way. I quickly rummaged through my things to find the case where all of my records were in.

The item in which I found placed in the corner of the room was a vintage, crummy looking record player. It was beautiful and I loved it. I imagined it be my grandmothers when she was my age.

I grabbed my 'In Utero' album and carefully slipped it out of it casing, placing it down onto my new record players.

I smiled to myself as Kurt's harsh voice filled my room. I used the best to 'Serve the Servants' as motivation to start putting away my things. I started with my clothes. Most of them were already folding up (thanks to my grandmother) so I wasn't left with only half of the work. I mumbled the lyrics to myself, bobbing my head to the rhythm.

"As my bones grew they did hurt

They hurt really bad

I tried hard to have a father

But instead I had a dad."

"Kurt Cobain is like our modern day Shakespeare," a cool voice sounded behind me.

I jumped, startled clutching my chest. I looked over to the source of the voice. It was a tall boy, his shaggy blonde hair disheveled like a mop on top of his head. He was wearing a frumpy brown and grey striped sweater and paired it with a washed out pair of jeans with a big rib in the knee. He almost loomed like Kurt Cobain's doppelgänger. The skin around his eyes were red as if he'd been rubbing his eyes a lot. But I couldn't help but notice how cute he was. He was smiling smugly at me, showing off his cheek dimples.

I smiled to myself, looking back down to what I was doing.

"More like a modern day Poe," I retorted, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Touché," he smirked, his docs thumping across the floor as he waltzed over to me. He knelt down next to me, cocking his head to the side. "What're you doing?"

"Unpacking," I stated, slowly, unsure of why he had come into my room or of even who he was and what he was doing here.

"Oh, woops," he whispered, straightening his legs out. "Sorry. I'm Tate."

I looked up at him, furrowing my brows still, "Marissa."

He smiled down on me, his dimple enhanced again. I averted my eyes and continued unpacking, secretly smiling to myself as 'Scentless Apprentice' played.