✧

Flashback

Eden settled on the edge of her daughter Ophelia's bed, the eve of Halloween casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit room. Eight-year-old Ophelia was snuggled cozily under her blankets, her wide eyes fixed on her mother as she read to her with theatrical flair.

"Halloween," Eden began, her voice carrying a mysterious undertone, "originates from the ancient Celtic holiday of Samhain. It marked the end of the bountiful harvest season, and the Celts celebrated it to ward off their deepest fears. They firmly believed that on October 31, the veil between the realms of the living and the dead would fade, allowing spirits to walk among us." Eden paused, her gaze shifting to her daughter's innocent face. With a haunting smile, she continued, "That's why people dress up in spooky costumes, to scare away any lingering ghosts and ghouls."

Ophelia's little head shook emphatically, her golden locks dancing in the faint moonlight. "No way I ever want to be a ghost," she declared, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. "It's so sad."

Eden gently used her free hand to caress her daughter's cheek, her fingers tenderly brushing away a stray lock of hair that had strayed onto Ophelia's face. With a soft, reassuring smile, Eden began to speak, her voice carrying a gentle lilt. "You're right, my love, but there is undeniable comfort in the thought that our loved ones will always be there, watching over us." Her words wrapped around Ophelia like a soothing embrace, offering reassurance and solace in the face of the mysterious and ethereal nature of life.

As the story unfolded, the room seemed to carry an enchanting ambiance, and the soft rustle of wind outside painted a picture of the mystical Hallows Eve night. Eden's storytelling artistry captivated Ophelia's imagination, and the mother-daughter duo embraced the spirit of the season, finding comfort in each other's presence before the night of Halloween embraced them with its mysterious charm.

✧

Marcy sat perched at the island in the sunlit kitchen, her dark eyes glinting with determination. Across from her stood Ophelia and Joey, both looking a tad disheartened. "This is unacceptable, Marcy," sighed Joey, his frustration evident as they had only managed to attract a single person to view the house in the last two weeks.

"Just one person in two weeks," Ophelia chimed in, lifting a steaming cup of coffee to her lips, her memory lingering on the peculiar encounter with the apprehensive blonde visitor. "And she didn't even stay for the whole tour. She was so freaked out by it."

Joey urged Marcy to take action. "You need to do something, Marcy."

"Please don't put the blame on me, Dr. Bishop," Marcy responded, defensively waving her hand. "This house has an image problem, plain and simple. Fix that, and this property will sell like hotcakes."

The desperate question hung in the air. "What are we supposed to do?" Joey asked, seemingly out of ideas.

"I think we need a fluffer here," Marcy suggested, Ophelia to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Huh?" Ophelia inquired, unfamiliar with the term.

Marcy began to explain. "They're talented individuals we can hire to sprinkle a dash of style and élan throughout this place."

"We have style," Joey retorted, slightly offended by the insinuation.

Marcy smirked knowingly. "Everyone thinks they have style, and everyone thinks they're funny. But most people aren't," she candidly pointed out, drawing a slightly offended look from both Ophelia and her father. "That's why in my business, we have fluffers. They come in, they rent some accessories, karate chop a few throw pillows, and make this home look like a magazine spread."

With a glimmer of excitement, Marcy continued her pitch. "It's Halloween season, and just imagine the impact of decorating your front porch with divine, cheery pumpkins. Throngs of happy trick-or-treaters would mean parents talking to their friends, attracting more curious onlookers, and generating better PR for the property." Turning her attention to Joey, she added, "I heard you were egged last night, Dr. Bishop."

Joey sighed, remembering the unfortunate incident involving two mischievous twin boys in Halloween makeup. He shot a reproachful glance at his daughter. "Why did you tell her that?"

Ophelia shrugged nonchalantly. "We do have an image problem, Dad. We're literally on the murder house tour," she pointed out, taking another sip of her coffee before turning to Marcy. "Do you know any of these fluffers? Can you find one for us?"

Marcy nodded, a gleam of enthusiasm in her eyes. "Yes, I know a wonderful English lady—a true pro, but she's a bit more expensive. Alternatively, I also know a young, talented gay fellow who could work wonders for us."

"Let's go with the gay fellow," Joey decided, not keen on spending any more than necessary.

Ophelia concurred, "Definitely."

"I'll call the fluffer," Marcy declared, a sense of determination evident in her voice as she prepared to transform the house into an irresistible haven.

✧

In the kitchen, Luke Maxcy, the security officer, demonstrated the various alarm systems spread out on the island to Ophelia. The setting was one of cautious anticipation as Ophelia absorbed the information.

"This is your control panel," Luke explained, pointing to it. "It operates one of the 15 window and door sensors. You're also gonna get this infrared motion detector. It goes in your foyer." Ophelia nodded, trying to remember each detail Luke pointed out as he held up a white clicker for her to see. "This is your panic button. I'm gonna hide one of these in your nightstand, probably put one in the kitchen somewhere. Now, if something goes bump in the night, you hit this button, and I'm on my way, all right?" Again, Ophelia nodded, beginning to feel safer with these added security measures. "Now, given what you've gone through lately, I'm expecting some false alarms, so don't be shy."

"Okie dokey, if you say so," Ophelia sighed, crossing her arms, taking in all the devices on the island.

"I do," Luke reassured, nodding with conviction.

"You know if your power goes out or someone cuts your phone line, something like that..." Luke continued, ensuring Ophelia understood the system's limitations.

"Yeah, we would be in some deep shit," Ophelia acknowledged the potential risks.

"Exactly, right," Luke nodded, offering a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm gonna let myself out... if you need me—"

"I'll press the button," Ophelia interrupted, grabbing the panic button clicker for effect and placing it down.

Luke shot her a warm smile before departing through the front door. Ophelia let out a long sigh, looking down at the devices on the island before noticing Tate entering the kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Tate, the memory of their passionate kiss then him leaving right after flooded her mind like a torrent of emotions. Her eyes widened, realizing her father was home. "Are you crazy? My dad's home," she hurriedly moved towards him, attempting to guide him to the front door.

"Don't worry, another patient came in after me," Tate reassured.

Ophelia breathed a sigh of relief, noticing his tear-streaked face. Concerned, she asked, "Are you seeing my dad again?"

"Uh, yeah, actually," Tate nodded. "We're gonna meet for coffee."

"That's good," Ophelia smiled, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Meet me in the basement tonight?" Tate looked down at her with hopeful eyes.

After a moment's consideration, Ophelia nodded her head and dropped her arm to her side. "Yeah... midnight?"

"It's a date," Tate smiled charmingly, leaving her in the kitchen as he exited through the front door.

✧

"Did Marcy bring these pumpkins?" Ophelia inquired, stepping into the kitchen and finding Moira sitting diligently carving one of the pumpkins.

"Yes," Moira replied simply, her focus remaining on her artistic task.

Approaching to get a better look over the housekeeper's shoulder, Ophelia admired the pumpkin's intricate design. "That's really nice."

"Thank you. I enjoy crafts," Moira appreciated, briefly glancing up at the girl hovering beside her. Ophelia placed a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder before heading to a nearby cabinet to fetch a cup. "Ms. Bishop... a question," Moira began hesitantly.

Ophelia turned back to face her, filling her cup with water. "What's up?"

"May I have Halloween off? I'd like to visit with my mother," Moira requested, her voice soft yet hopeful.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Ophelia nodded, leaning on the counter as she took a sip of her water.

Silence filled the kitchen as Moira finished carving the pumpkin. "Done," she finally declared, a sense of accomplishment in her tone.

Ophelia placed her cup down and approached Moira. "I'll put that one outside," she offered, picking up the pumpkin and stepping out onto the patio. To her surprise, she spotted two men conversing and inspecting her yard.

"The roses have whitefly. Jesus, what an eyesore," the man with brunette hair commented, unaware of Ophelia's presence as she set the pumpkin down on the steps.

"Um... Hi," Ophelia greeted, curious as to why these men were in her front yard. Her sudden appearance caused the two men to turn and face her.

"Hi. Love the house, so much potential," The brunette man complimented, his eyes glancing over Ophelia's appearance.

"Thanks," Ophelia replied, slightly taken aback. "Are you Marcy's fluffers?"

The brunette man looked away for a moment before stepping closer and extending his hand for Ophelia to shake. "I'm Chad Warwick." Ophelia shook his hand, and Chad gestured to the blonde man standing beside him. "This is my ball and chain, Patrick."

With a nod, Ophelia suppressed a smile at the playful banter. "Welcome." She then led the fluffers inside, intrigued by their presence and eager to see the transformation they would bring to her home.

✧

Ophelia and her father sat in the cozy company of Chad and Patrick, all gathered around a table, their hands engrossed in the delightful task of pumpkin carving. The soft flickering of candles cast an enchanting glow over the room, enhancing the magical ambiance of the scene.

Amidst the rhythmic scraping of pumpkin flesh, Joey couldn't help but revel in the joyous moment. A genuine smile graced his face as he confessed, "This is actually kind of fun. I never got to do this when I was a kid."

Curious, Chad asked, "Why not?"

Joey raised his head to meet Chad's gaze, but he found himself at a loss for words. The memories of his childhood seemed distant and enigmatic, leaving him without a clear answer.

Meanwhile, Ophelia delighted in the art of pumpkin carving, her face alight with glee as she skillfully carved intricate designs onto her pumpkin canvas. "So, this is what you guys do for a living," she pondered, her excitement evident. "So cool. I think style is so important."

"It's everything." Chad wholeheartedly agreed, turning his attention towards Ophelia, a warm smile gracing his lips. However, a brief moment of tension filled the air as Patrick scoffed at Chad's statement. Ophelia and Joey noticed the awkward exchange between her Patrick and Chad, and they shared a knowing look, silently acknowledging the underlying tension.

Chad's gaze settled on Patrick for a moment before refocusing on the Bishops. "It's so great that I get to help you guys have the best Halloween ever. I love Halloween. Patrick does too, considering the bars are overflowing with twinks in revealing outfits," Chad teased, glancing back at Patrick, who seemed uneasy but remained silent. Chad then playfully rested his weight on Patrick's shoulder. "Isn't that right, Pat? The Abby, The O Bar, Rage," he added, reminiscing about past Halloween experiences.

However, Patrick's discomfort became evident as Chad continued. Chad shifted his attention back to Ophelia and Joey, regaling them with the story of how Patrick had spent the previous Halloween at the bars instead of helping him with the trick-or-treaters.

Patrick observed his partner, who took a sip from his wine glass. "Have another drink, dear. Crafting brings out his inner George and Martha," Patrick remarked with a touch of humor.

Ophelia couldn't help but feel uneasy amidst the passive aggressiveness in the room. Trying to steer the conversation to a more positive note, she asked, "So, in addition to Halloween night and making everything look inviting, which I get, do you guys have any other suggestions to make the house sell faster?"

Chad nodded thoughtfully, walking over to the window to glance at the backyard. "Actually, yes. That gazebo's got to go. The lattice is wrong."

Patrick concurred with a firm agreement, adding, "I agree."

Ophelia couldn't hide her disappointment. "Fuck, my dad just put that in," she sighed, her lips pursed in frustration.

Curious about the gazebo's history, Chad turned back to face them, leaning on the kitchen counter. "You put that gazebo in yourself, Joey?" he inquired, intrigued by what secrets might lie beneath it.

Remaining calm, Joey replied, "Yes," his mind pondering the memories that the gazebo held.

Chad proposed a solution, "Well, let's get through tomorrow night, and then we can tear it down and put in an organic cutting garden."

However, Joey's internal panic over the prospect of removing the gazebo inadvertently led to an accident. He accidentally cut himself with the pumpkin carving tool, and Ophelia, alarmed, exclaimed, "Oh, shit."

"Let me see." Patrick, putting his own tool down, walked over to inspect the cut, assuring Joey, "I think I'm gonna need stitches," Joey sighed, wincing slightly.

"It's okay. I can fix this up," Patrick reassured him.

Chad interjected with a hint of sourness, "Pat's an EMT."

Playfully teasing, Ophelia quirked an eyebrow, "I thought you were a fluffer."

Chad chuckled, finding her humor amusing, "You're hilarious, Ophelia. And I love the hair color. I can barely see any root."

Proudly, Ophelia replied, "It's my natural color," grateful for the compliment, despite its backhanded tone.

Concerned for Joey's wellbeing, Patrick asked, "Where's your first-aid kit?"

Joey directed him, "Upstairs," and led Patrick out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

In the meantime, Chad asked Ophelia for help, "Mind helping me cut out these bats?" He picked up a stack of printed-out bat designs, and Ophelia gladly accepted one, sitting across from him. As they focused on their bat-cutting endeavor, a moment of silence settled in the room. Chad decided to broach a sensitive subject, "Your dad seems very..." he paused, searching for the right words. Curious, Ophelia glanced up at him, inviting him to continue, "Nervous?"

Ophelia sighed, agreeing with Chad's perception. She had also noticed her father's increasing unease. Instead of delving deeper into that topic, Ophelia changed the direction of the conversation, intrigued by Chad's relationship with Patrick. "Seems like you and Pat are having problems."

Chad smirked, having finished the first bat cutout and moving onto another. "Yeah. He can't keep his dick in his pants," he confessed, a mixture of frustration and amusement in his tone.

Ophelia looked up at him, intrigued by his honesty, "You caught him cheating?"

Unabashedly, Chad admitted, "Yes, I'm a sneak and a snoop," continuing to cut along the outline of the paper. "Do you have anyone special in your life?"

Caught off guard by the question, Ophelia stared at Chad for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "It's... complicated," she finally said, the complexities of her personal life making it difficult to offer a straightforward answer.

Chad empathized, offering a forced smile, "They always are." His warm gaze softened as he extended a hand towards Ophelia, "Ophelia, that bat is terrible. Let me finish it," he offered, willing to assist her in this simple yet meaningful task.

✧

Ophelia stood before her closet, sifting through its contents, trying to decide on the perfect Halloween costume for the party they were hosting to sell the house. As she contemplated her options, her heart skipped a beat when she heard a faint noise emanating from beneath her bed. Curiosity mixed with a hint of trepidation, she turned around slowly, inching closer to the bed, and leaned down to investigate. Suddenly, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle, causing her to let out a startled squeal.

To her relief, it was Addy who emerged from under the bed with a mischievous grin. "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat," Addy playfully chanted.

"Addy!" Ophelia scolded, placing a hand on her chest to steady her racing heart. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Unfazed, Addy declared, "I want to be a pretty girl for Halloween." Ophelia was taken aback by the unexpected request.

"You want what?" Ophelia questioned, slightly puzzled.

"Make me a pretty girl like you, Ophelia," Addy reiterated with excitement. After a moment of consideration, Ophelia agreed, motioning for Addy to sit in the chair by her vanity. Eagerly, Addy settled into the seat, and Ophelia rummaged through her drawers to gather the necessary items.

"Close your eyes," Ophelia instructed.

As Addy obediently shut her eyes, Ophelia carefully applied a light blue eyeshadow to her eyelids, enhancing Addy's youthful charm. Adelaide opened her eyes to admire herself in the mirror, but Ophelia playfully interrupted, "I'm not done yet."

"I like it," Addy assured with a giggle, closing her eyes again.

Ophelia chuckled, continuing her makeover artistry on the other eye. Amidst the beauty session, Ophelia's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "How old are you, Addy?"

"A lady never reveals her age," Addy replied cryptically, "Is Tate your boyfriend?"

Ophelia pulled away for a second to look at Addy, not knowing they had even known each other. "Wait. You know Tate?"

"I talk to him when he comes here for his head shrinking." Addy explained, causing Ophelia to nod her head before grabbing some blush and applying it to her. "He likes you, I can tell. So does Elliot. They think you're a pretty girl," Addy confided, revealing her understanding of the feelings surrounding Ophelia. Ophelia's mind swirled with emotions, not knowing how to navigate the complexity of her relationships with Tate and Elliot. Addy's innocent observations both touched and unsettled her, leaving her feeling warm and fuzzy inside while grappling with uncertainties.

Addy's questioning continued, "Are you a... virgin?"

"Um... no." Ophelia answered, "Are you?"

As she applied a pink lipstick on Addy's lips, she chuckled at Addy's blunt response. "Hell no."

"You can't keep breaking into our house, Addy."

"But I like it here." Addy whined. "My friends are here."

Ophelia let out a sigh, placing the lipstick down on the vanity. "Alright. I'm done," Ophelia finally said, stepping aside to let Addy admire herself in the mirror.

Overjoyed with her transformation, Addy couldn't contain her excitement, exclaiming, "Ophelia, I'm beautiful!"

"You were always beautiful, Addy," Ophelia responded, shaking her head with affection. Surprisingly, Addy pulled her into a tight hug, and though taken aback, Ophelia warmly embraced her, feeling a sense of closeness with her.

✧

Ophelia sauntered over to the chair nestled in the corner of her room, dragging it closer to the window. With a soft creak, she opened the window, allowing a gentle breeze to fill the room. Taking a seat in the chair, she picked up her phone from the window sill, her thumb hesitating over the contact labeled 'Zoe.' After a moment's contemplation, she decided to call her friend and hit the dial button. Placing the phone on speaker, she waited as it rang, reaching over to retrieve a joint and lighting it up.

"Holy shit, it's been a minute since you called me," Zoe's voice came through the phone, and Ophelia took a puff before responding.

"I know. I'm sorry, Zo. Life's been fucking crazy for me," Ophelia confessed.

"I know... but It's good to hear your voice," Zoe replied.

"It's good to hear your voice too," Ophelia replied with a warm smile, her mind drifting back to the memories of the days when they used to sneak out and roam Fremont Street. The bustling city lights, the laughter of strangers, and the thrill of their secret adventures filled her thoughts as she spoke to Zoe on the phone.

"I heard about the invasion, are you doing okay?" Zoe inquired.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," Ophelia reassured her.

"We can talk about it if you want."

"Honestly, all I've been doing is talking about it. I need a break," Ophelia sighed.

"I get it," Zoe sympathized before steering the conversation to a lighter note. "Any hot guys over there?"

Ophelia chuckled at the topic change, taking another hit and holding the smoke in. "Funny you say that." She exhaled the smoke out the window before continuing. "I'm actually in a conundrum at the moment."

"Spill." Zoe urged, "It's so fucking boring here without you."

Ophelia pursed her lips to the side in thought before speaking. "So, I met these best friends, Tate and Elliot."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. And so, we all started hanging out, and then a few weeks ago, Elliot kissed me."

"Oh!"

Ophelia breathed, taking a moment before continuing her story. "Anyways, I liked it but I was into Tate as well so I felt bad... but a couple days ago Elliot showed up to my house and we were baking cookies—"

"How romantic," Zoe teased.

"Everything happened so fast and... he ate me out." Ophelia admitted, placing her hand on her cheek to feel the warmth.

"Was it good?"

"Dude, I came in like two minutes." Ophelia stifled a laugh, "Anyways, after all that, Tate was throwing rocks at my window, so I let him in and we kissed and then he just leaves."

"Ophelia, you slut!" Zoe laughed through the phone.

"I'm wrecked with guilt," Ophelia sighed, reclining in the chair and taking another hit of the joint.

"I need to see what they look like," Zoe squealed with excitement.

"Here. One sec," Ophelia said, picking up her phone from her lap and sending a photo of her, Tate and Elliot flipping off the camera one night when they were drunk.

A moment passed before Zoe spoke. "Those are literally the hottest people I've ever seen in my life."

"Ugh, I know," Ophelia grumbled, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Babe, you've dealt with worse shit than having two hot-ass guys at your beck and call," Zoe offered straightforward advice. "Do they know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're fucking with both of them."

"Fuck, I don't know. When we're all together, it doesn't seem like that. It's just normal dumb shit."

"Maybe you should just talk to them about it."

"Ha!" Ophelia laughed at the thought, feeling anxious at the idea of confronting the situation.

"I'm just saying. Whatever situation you're in is going to continue to get messy if you're just going to sit there and hope for the best."

"Ugh, but why do I have to do it," Ophelia whined, pouting slightly.

"Cause boys are dumb."

As the night wore on, Ophelia and Zoe delved into a deep conversation, exchanging stories and reminiscing about their past adventures. The familiar sound of Zoe's voice brought comfort to Ophelia's troubled mind, providing a temporary respite from the chaos of her life. The soft glow of a nearby lamp illuminated Ophelia's face as she sat in her room, the warmth of the conversation easing the tension in her shoulders. With each passing moment, the weight on her heart seemed to lift, and a genuine smile graced her lips as she shared laughter and memories with her long-time friend.

Amidst the laughter and catching up, Ophelia couldn't help but feel grateful for the bond she shared with Zoe. The conversation acted as a soothing balm to her troubled soul, allowing her to momentarily forget the haunting events of the past. In those moments, Ophelia found solace in the familiarity of her friend's voice and the shared history they cherished. As they talked, Ophelia's thoughts drifted away from the home invasion and the complicated relationships with Tate and Elliot. Instead, she found herself fully present in the conversation, embracing the joy of reconnecting with Zoe.

With a final exchange of laughter and promises to talk again soon, Ophelia ended the call, feeling grateful for the cathartic conversation. The weight that had been pressing on her chest had lifted, and she now faced the challenges ahead with renewed determination and the knowledge that she had a friend by her side.

✧

Ophelia cautiously descended the steps of the basement, searching for Tate as they had planned to meet there at midnight. "Tate?" Her voice echoed, but there was no response as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Hello?" Ophelia turned to look behind her, but still, no sign of him. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

Frustrated by the silence, she turned back around only to be startled by the appearance of a figure clad in a black rubber suit. Fear gripped her, and she let out a scream as the figure pushed her back against the stair railing. Soon enough, the laughter revealed the truth—it was Tate all along. Ophelia responded by playfully hitting him on the arm. "You asshole!"

Tate took off the mask, and Ophelia, still catching her breath, managed a smile. "I scared you," he grinned mischievously.

"You're a dick," Ophelia shook her head, playfully taunting him as he stood tall before her. She noticed that he was wearing the same suit she had seen in the attic. "Where'd you get this thing? My dad threw it out."

"Finders keepers," Tate smirked, leaning in to capture Ophelia's lips with his own. The sudden kiss took her by surprise, but she soon melted into it, savoring the feeling and taste of his lips. When the kiss ended, Ophelia looked into his eyes when he spoke. "Really? I didn't scare you?"

"No," Ophelia lied, crossing her arms and looking away, but the truth was evident in her eyes.

"I bet I can," Tate challenged.

"Mm, okay. What are the stakes then?" Ophelia rolled her eyes playfully before meeting his gaze again.

"If I scare you... I get to kiss you again," Tate suggested, brushing a stray hair out of Ophelia's face.

"I'm sure you'll kiss me anyway, but you're on," Ophelia teased.

Tate smirked, turning away from her then motioning toward the zipper that started at the neck. "Mind getting that for me?"

Ophelia nodded before undoing the zipper so he could remove the black rubber suit and was left in his clothes he wore underneath. The girl sat down on the stairs as she watched Tate smile at her before walking away to set up a table with a red candle and an ouija board. Ophelia watched him curiously, intrigued by what he had in mind. He invited her to join him at the table, and she complied, still pondering the recent events and what happened to the people who had attacked her.

"You have to put your fingers on the other side." Tate instructed, lighting the red candle.

"How is this supposed to scare me?" Ophelia questioned, resting her head on her hand.

"Charles is gonna answer all your questions. He used to live here."

"Is Charles going to tell me what happened to those assholes that tried to kill me?" Ophelia asked, her thoughts still consumed by the past. "What'd you do to them?"

"I told you I didn't do anything," Tate reassured, but he could sense her disbelief. "I had some help." As they placed their fingers on the planchette, Ophelia's mind raced back to their previous encounter in the basement and the creature she had encountered there. She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't adding up.

"What's in this basement? I want the truth," Ophelia demanded, her eyes fixed on Tate.

"What I'm about to tell you might scare you... to death," Tate warned before removing his hands from the planchette, and she followed suit.

"I can take it," Ophelia shrugged, trying to remain composed.

"Dr. Charles Montgomery built this house. And here in this basement is where he worked. Charles was a doctor to the stars, but he was also a drug addict, and his wife Nora wasn't gonna let that get in the way of her lifestyle. So, she set up a little secret side business; he would take care of girls who didn't want to be in trouble anymore," Tate explained, recounting the dark history. "This went on and on until one day, one girl couldn't keep the secret to herself, and she told her boyfriend what happened. Driven insane by grief, the doctor used all his experience but what he created was ungodly, and monstrous. And even after their tragic end, that 'thing' remained, down here, to this day."

"My God..." Ophelia rolled her eyes, trying to stifle a laugh. "You are so full of shit. I don't believe a word that has come out of your mouth. Forget it. Forget I ever asked."

Ophelia got up from her spot and started to walk away, but then she turned back to face Tate, determined to change the atmosphere. "And I'm tired that we keep hanging out in this house. Why can't we go somewhere, like on a real date?"

Tate didn't respond immediately, but then he walked over to her, taking her hands into his. "All right. Tomorrow night. We'll go out." Ophelia smiled up at him, but their moment was interrupted by footsteps upstairs. "I'm not supposed to be here," Tate said, worried they might get caught.

"Come on, I'll be your lookout," Ophelia assured him, taking his hand and leading him up the steps to sneak him out of the house.

✧

Joey sat restlessly at a weathered park table, the anticipation of Tate's return for their therapy session mixing with the overwhelming stress that had been consuming him. Uncharacteristically, he reached for a cigarette, seeking a momentary escape from his racing thoughts. As he took a deep drag, his attention was unexpectedly drawn to a little girl dressed as a witch, innocently giggling and running around with her family. A bittersweet smile crept onto Joey's face as memories of a young Ophelia, eagerly excited for Halloween, flooded his mind.

"There's so many different flavors, it's freaky. I don't know half of them." Lost in his reverie, Joey was brought back to the present by Tate's voice as he approached, holding two steaming cups of coffee. But Joey seemed distant, still fixated on the family that reminded him so much of his daughter.

"She reminds you of Ophelia, doesn't she?" Tate mused, following Joey's gaze and then turning his attention back to him.

Joey finally tore his eyes away from the scene and refocused on Tate, the weight of his emotions evident in his troubled expression. "She had to be scary. My fierce little girl. Just like her mom," Joey recalled, his voice quivering with the weight of his memories. "Smart and beautiful... no need to be like anyone else."

Taking a moment to gather himself, Joey inhaled from his cigarette, attempting to regain composure. He turned his gaze to Tate, opening up about his own past struggles. "The thing is, I was a... I was a troubled kid, too. I was kinda like you, Tate." Tears streamed down his cheeks as he continued, the vulnerability of his confession evident. "I didn't hold out too much hope for myself. Not many other people did, either. It was a total shock to everyone, including myself, when I became a doctor. But somehow, I was given this... amazing gift of family."

As the weight of his emotions intensified, Joey found it hard to control his tears. He stubbed out the cigarette on the table and buried his face in his hands, grappling with the overwhelming stress and emotions. He felt vulnerable, his usual composed demeanor unraveling before Tate's eyes.

Tate reached out with a comforting hand on Joey's arm, offering reassurance. "Hey, It's gonna be okay, Dr. Bishop..."

Feeling embarrassed and unprofessional, Joey pulled away from Tate, wiping away the stray tears, and attempted to regain his composure. "I'm sorry. Oh God," he stammered, trying to collect himself. "I'm sorry, Tate." The therapist attempted to regain his professional composure, reminding himself that he needed to be strong for his patients, but the weight of his emotions still lingered in the air.

✧

Ophelia sat cross-legged on a chair in front of her vanity, the soft glow of the vanity lights casting a warm ambiance in her room. Music filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere as she skillfully applied makeup, turning herself into the witch she intended to be for the Halloween party hosted by Chad and Patrick to sell the house. With each brushstroke and swipe of lipstick, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves for the upcoming event. As she sang along to the music, her attention was suddenly drawn to the door. Elliot's presence caught her off guard, and she quickly turned to face him, setting the lipstick aside. A flutter of anxiety danced in her stomach, as it had been some time since they last saw each other after the cookie incident.

"Saw your dad's car wasn't here so I let myself in," Elliot explained, his casual demeanor doing little to quell the nerves within Ophelia. She tried to steady herself, taking a deep breath as she met his gaze. "Any plans for today?"

"Yeah. I'm helping my dad host a party later," Ophelia replied, considering whether to mention her date with Tate. She turned away from him and moved closer to the mirror, wiping off any smeared red lipstick, her mind wrestling with the complexities of her feelings for both boys. "After that, I have plans with Tate."

The silence that followed Elliot's next question hung heavy in the air, making Ophelia feel self-conscious. "Like a date?" he inquired, his hands slipping into his pockets.

"Yeah, I guess so," Ophelia answered with a shrug, trying to maintain a sense of nonchalance even though her heart was racing. Getting up from her seat, she turned her attention to the skimpy witch costume laid out on her bed, hoping to divert the conversation. "What do you have planned?"

"I'm going to visit my sister. Haven't seen her in a while," Elliot revealed, slowly approaching Ophelia from behind. The proximity made her nerves jump, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel drawn to his presence. He gently pulled her hair back to expose her neck, and the touch sent shivers down her spine. Elliot's soft kiss on her neck made her lean back into his chest, the rush of feelings overwhelming her. But amidst the pleasure, guilt gnawed at Ophelia's conscience. She was supposed to go on a date with Tate later, and here she was entangled in a moment with Elliot. She turned to face him, their faces close enough to feel each other's breath.

"Elliot..." Ophelia's voice was barely a whisper as she struggled to articulate her thoughts and emotions in that moment. She felt torn between the chemistry she had with Elliot and the connection she had been building with Tate. A part of her yearned to lean into the moment, while the other part hesitated, unsure of the implications and consequences. Elliot's low hum showed he was attuned to her, adding to the complexity of the situation. The young man ran a finger along her jaw-line, then down her neck, following down to the crevice between her breasts. Elliot leaned down to her ear, his breath tickling her neck causing Ophelia's breath to catch in her throat then closing her eyes to relish in the electric feeling.

"I know you feel this too." Elliot whispered before placing another hot kiss on her neck. The girl melted into the feeling, growing increasingly more aroused with the way he was touching her. She couldn't deny the way that Elliot made her feel. Before she knew it, his large hands ran up the sides of her, gripping onto the fabric of her dress to pull it up and over her head. As Ophelia stood there in only her underwear, she couldn't think about anything else than what he would feel like inside of her. Elliot glanced down at her body, taking in every single detail about her. Ophelia flopped down on the side of her bed staring up at Elliot intensely, watching him remove his shirt.

The girl's eyes trailed over his lightly sculpted body before Elliot placed a finger under the girl's chin, guiding her to look up at him. He gently brushed his thumb along her lips, smearing her lipstick slightly in the process. On edge with how soaked he had made her, her vision clouded with desire so she reached over and slowly unbuckled his belt. As she gazed up at him, she watched his reaction as she tugged down his jeans enough for his cock to be visible, soon taking it into her hand and slowly pumping it. Elliot let out a moan at the feeling, loving how confident she was being. The girl tore from his gaze to teasingly licking around his tip before wrapping her mouth around it. The sounds of his moans practically made her drip with anticipation as she skillfully pumped him in and out of her mouth. After a while she pulled away, wiping away the spit surrounding her mouth as she smiled nervously up at him. She took her bottom lip between her teeth before reclining on the bed, inviting him between her legs.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a naughty girl." Elliot smirked, clucking his tongue before reaching down to grasp the sides of her panties and tugging them down off of her. He then placed himself between her thighs, which she instinctively wrapped around him before Elliot grabbed his cock and guided it toward her, rubbing it along her folds as if to tease her. The girl hmphed in response, pouting slightly as he did so. He chuckled at her reaction before slipping himself into her, the two letting out a gasp of satisfaction at the feeling of one another.

Elliot leaned down, placing his arms by either side of her head as he applied his lips to hers. He slowly began to pump in and out of her, his left arm travelling down to grip the outside of her thigh to better steady himself. Ophelia moved in sync with him, wrapping her arms around him as she moaned into his mouth. The pleasure he provided her was impeccable as they moved against each other. Eventually, Elliot pulled away from her lips, returning to his standing position on the edge of the bed and picking up the pace as he slammed into her. The sudden roughness made Ophelia moan even louder, feeling Elliot reach down and grasp one of her breasts. "Touch yourself for me, Phi."

The request was odd for Ophelia but she did as he said, slowly snaking her hand down to rub her clit, the sensation of him inside her and her touching herself driving her crazy with pleasure. "Good girl." Elliot praised, gripping onto her hips to delve himself deeper into her as he watched how good he was making her feel. The double sensation brought Ophelia to her climax quickly, circles of moans escaped her lips as she rocked through her intense high. Elliot felt her walls close around him, reveling in the feeling of her as he continued to glide in and out her wetness. Feeling overstimulated at the euphoric feeling of him fucking her as she came down from her high, she removed her hand from her clit and let out a breath. As Elliot reached his own high, he let himself spill inside of her, gripping onto her thighs while he relished in the feeling.

The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically as Elliot's guilt became palpable. He hastily disentangled himself from Ophelia, pulling up his jeans and hurriedly buckling his belt. The air was filled with an awkward silence, and Ophelia sat up, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling vulnerable and exposed. She searched for any sign of reassurance or explanation in Elliot's eyes, but he remained silent, leaving her with a profound sense of uncertainty and confusion.

Once he had put on his shirt and seemed ready to leave, they shared a lingering look that held unspoken emotions and questions. Without a word, Elliot turned and made his way out of her room, leaving Ophelia feeling abandoned and emotionally torn.

Alone with her thoughts, Ophelia sat there, trying to process what had just happened. Guilt consumed her as she couldn't help but wonder if Elliot was just using her, or if there was something more genuine beneath the surface. Her emotions were a whirlwind of desire, confusion, and self-doubt. With trembling hands, Ophelia stood up from her bed, shimming back into her underwear. Her mind and heart were in turmoil as she walked over to her vanity, her reflection in the mirror reflecting the vulnerability she felt within. The sight of her smeared red lipstick served as a stark reminder of the intimate encounter, causing tears to well up in her eyes.

Feeling the weight of her emotions, she reached for a napkin and carefully wiped away the remnants of the red lipstick, as if trying to cleanse herself of the conflicting feelings and uncertainty that clouded her mind and heart.

✧

Ophelia gracefully descended down the stairs, her costume fully adorned, and her makeup perfected. The haunting sounds of Halloween filled the air as she observed Chad fiddling with a decoration he had set up earlier. "What the fuck is that?"

"The spooky sounds of Hallo—" Chad attempted a spooky voice before cutting himself off as he caught sight of Ophelia in her costume. "Really?"

Confused, Ophelia looked down at her outfit. "What's wrong with it?"

Chad launched into his critique. "The first impression anyone will have before they experience my meticulously-appointed candy/scare station is of you going to the front door in that slutty Rite Aid witch outfit. Ugh!" Ophelia rolled her eyes, and then Joey made his entrance, wearing a cheesy vampire costume. "But never fear, Count Chocula's here to really add some class."

Not in the mood to deal with Chad's judgment, Ophelia grabbed a lollipop from a nearby bowl and nonchalantly walked into the kitchen. Chad followed, still fussing about the party setup. Joey, observing the situation, joined them in the kitchen, wondering what was going on.

"What's wrong?" Joey asked, confused on why Chad was so upset.

"He doesn't like our costumes," Ophelia sighed, exasperated as she removed the lollipop's wrapper, placing the sweet candy in her mouth.

"Well, there's nothing that can be done about it now. The doorbell's going to be ringing, and we still have to decorate the bobbing station." Chad continued, then walking over to the bobbing station to be met with a sight that fueled his anger. Chad's irritation persisted. "What the hell is this?"

Joey, still trying to keep things light, inquired, "What?"

Patrick, who was also present in the kitchen, chimed in. "Chad?"

"Gala apples. We specifically talked about Granny Smiths." Chad criticized, looking over at Joey who was in charge of getting the right apples.

Trying to defend his choice, Joey explained, "They didn't have any Granny Smiths at Gelson's."

Unsatisfied, Chad spoke again. "Then you go to the farmer's market or an off ramp in Valencia and you buy a bag from Pedro. Where's the effort?"

Ophelia intervened, removing the lollipop from her mouth. "I think you're overreacting."

Frustrated, Chad declared, "Because I'm the only one who actually gives a shit? I think you should just leave."

Ophelia had had enough of Chad's attitude in their own home. "You think we should just leave our house?"

"It's not your house," Chad retorted sourly, with Patrick backing him up. "We know it, you know it, and the house knows it. Frankly, you don't deserve it."

Unleashing her pent-up fury, Ophelia wasn't going to tolerate any more disrespect. "I'm sorry, who the fuck do you think you are? Get out."

Joey had reached his limit too. "Yeah, leave."

But Chad and Patrick remained defiant. "We are not leaving this house," Patrick insisted.

Ophelia's anger flared, and she couldn't hold back anymore. Knocking over decorations in a fit of rage, she yelled, "Get the fuck out! I don't care about any of this, get out!"

Patrick managed to pull Chad away as Ophelia continued her outburst, knocking over one final decoration before leaning against the wall to catch her breath. Concerned, Joey approached her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm tired of this fucking house and the weird shit that comes with it," Ophelia vented, her frustration evident.

"I understand, kiddo," Joey reassured, patting Ophelia's shoulder before reaching for his car keys. "I'm gonna grab a drink. Don't answer the door for anyone."

Ophelia looked puzzled at her father's suggestion. "What? It's Halloween," she said, shaking her head at his unusual behavior as she watched him walk out the door. Alone now, she let out a sigh and decided to take charge.

Walking into the kitchen, Ophelia found a piece of paper in one of the drawers and grabbed a pen to write 'take one' on it. With the sign in hand, she picked up the candy bowl and made her way out to the patio. Placing the bowl down on the table, she taped the sign slightly above it, ensuring the candy was available for trick-or-treaters. Despite the chaotic events that had unfolded earlier, Ophelia wanted to salvage the Halloween spirit for the kids in the neighborhood. She took a moment to compose herself and put on a friendly smile, determined to make the best of the evening. Back inside her home, Ophelia closed the door behind her and made her way up the stairs. She felt the need to escape into her own world, away from the recent tension and drama. As she reached her room, she grabbed her earbuds and plugged them into her IPod, selecting a playlist that matched her mood. The music began to flow through her ears, drowning out any lingering worries.

Taking a moment to settle into her cozy chair by the window, she picked up the book she had been reading. The story quickly consumed her, transporting her to a different time and place. As she turned the pages, she could feel the weight of the day slowly lifting from her shoulders as she waited for Tate to show up for their date.

✧

Elliot's heart tightened as he recalled the painful memories of his childhood. He had endured so much, both for himself and for his younger sister, and the wounds from that time still haunted him. As he followed her from a distance, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions—love, protectiveness, and sadness.

He continued to observe from across the street, unnoticed by his sister as she enjoyed the Halloween festivities with her son. The boy's Batman costume reminded Elliot of simpler times, when they were just innocent kids seeking refuge from their troubled home lives in the joy of dressing up and going trick-or-treating. He remembered how they had leaned on each other for support during those difficult years, finding solace in each other's presence amidst the chaos that surrounded them. Elliot had always tried to be the strong and dependable older brother, even when he was struggling with his own pain and traumas.

As he watched his sister interacting with her son, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He wished he could have been there for her, protected her better, and shielded her from the horrors of their past. He knew that he couldn't change the past, but he yearned to be a better brother now and to be a positive presence in her life.

Elliot's mind wandered to his best friend and how he had been a source of comfort and refuge during their tumultuous upbringing. Despite his own family troubles, Tate had always been there for Elliot, offering unwavering support and understanding. Their bond had been a lifeline for Elliot, and he was grateful for the friendship that had sustained them through the years. As he continued to watch from afar, Elliot felt a mix of emotions—nostalgia, sadness, and hope. He hoped that his sister had found some semblance of peace and happiness in her life, despite the darkness of their shared past. He yearned for a chance to reconnect with her, to mend their fractured relationship, and to create new memories together but he knew that could and will never happen.

✧

Ophelia removed her earbuds, gently placing her book down on the table, and let out a sigh, feeling a sense of contentment after immersing herself in the fictional world of her novel. She rose gracefully from her seat on the cozy chair and made her way down the stairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under her weight, to venture into the kitchen in search of a late-night snack. Her mind still lost in the world of literature, she was taken aback when the sound of the doorbell pierced through the silence, jolting her back to reality. Curiosity piqued, she wondered who could be at the door, considering she had already set out a candy bowl for the trick-or-treaters to dissuade them from ringing the bell. As she approached the front door, the doorbell chimed again, its incessant ringing growing more insistent.

"Goddamn it Joe, I want my money!" A man's voice echoed through the door, his tone laced with frustration and anger.

"I'm not leaving here till I have my thousand dollars!" He continued to shout, pounding on the door with increasing intensity.

Ophelia took a cautious step back, her heart starting to race as she peered through the peephole, only to be met with a haunting sight - a half-burnt man, his disfigured appearance sending shivers down her spine. As she attempted to process the eerie scene outside, a young trick-or-treater approached the door to retrieve candy, seemingly unfazed by the unsettling presence.

"Here, here. Take one and go!"

Feeling an overwhelming sense of unease, she rushed to the house phone and dialed her father's number, her voice slightly trembling as she recounted the disturbing situation unfolding at their doorstep.

"Hey, honey," Joey's voice came through the phone, his concern evident as he awaited her explanation.

"Dad, there's some freaky dude at the door screaming about money. I think he might be one of your patients. I don't know, should I call the cops?" Ophelia's words tumbled out in a mix of urgency and fear as the man's incessant banging continued in the background.

"No! No. Just... just keep the door closed. Is it locked?" her father instructed, his voice calm yet reassuring.

Ophelia quickly glanced back at the door, double-checking the lock, and replied, "Yeah."

"I'm on my way home right now. Ophelia? Just... just keep the door locked," Joey assured her before ending the call.

"I know you're in there," the man's voice seemed to echo through the door, unnervingly close.

"Is that your daughter?" he called out, the mere mention of her identity striking a nerve within Ophelia, her fear now fully consuming her thoughts. As she stood alone in the hallway, she could still hear the man's persistent voice, demanding entry and claiming to know she was inside. The realization that he knew she was home sent a chill down her spine, and she could feel her anxiety mounting with each passing moment.

Startled by the sudden presence behind her, Ophelia felt a gentle hand resting on her shoulder, causing her to jump and turn around to find Tate standing there. Relief washed over her as she recognized him, grateful for his appearance in that unnerving moment.

"Come on, let's sneak out the back," Tate suggested, motioning toward the back door while reaching for her hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. Without a second thought, Ophelia nodded eagerly, not wanting to confront the man on the other side of the front door any longer.

Following Tate's lead, Ophelia allowed him to guide her through the kitchen and out the back door, the cool night air greeting them as they stepped into the darkness. The soft glow of the moon cast faint shadows around them as they moved away from the unsettling encounter at the front of the house.

In the safety of the backyard, Ophelia finally felt her racing heart begin to slow down. She leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady herself while Tate stood beside her, his presence providing a comforting anchor. She could feel the warmth of his hand in hers, their fingers still intertwined, and she silently appreciated his protective gesture.

Tate glanced at Ophelia, his eyes searching hers with concern. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," Ophelia replied, managing a small smile as she leaned into his support. "Thank you for being here, Tate."

Tate's thumb gently brushed against her hand, his touch sending tingles up her arm. "Always," he whispered, a sincerity in his voice that made Ophelia's heart flutter. She found herself lost in the depths of his eyes, feeling a magnetic pull toward him that she couldn't ignore.

"I like your costume," Tate said, breaking the momentary silence between them, his gaze softening as he admired her witch attire.

Ophelia glanced down at her dress, suddenly remembering that she was still dressed in her Halloween costume from earlier. She chuckled lightly, feeling a hint of self-consciousness as she looked back up at Tate. "Thanks," she replied, feeling her cheeks warm with a blush.

Tate's smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. "You make a pretty convincing witch," he teased playfully, his voice laced with affection.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Ophelia quipped, trying to play it cool but secretly enjoying the compliment.

Tate closed the distance between them, and Ophelia's heart skipped a beat as his presence enveloped her. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin as he spoke, and his words resonated deep within her. "You don't need a costume to be enchanting," he said, his voice tender and sincere, as though he couldn't contain the emotions welling up inside him.

A mixture of delight and embarrassment flushed Ophelia's cheeks, and she playfully rolled her eyes to hide her growing blush. "Oh, come on, that's the cheesiest shit I've ever heard," she managed to say, attempting to mask her genuine appreciation of his compliment with a touch of humor.

Tate's lips curved into a mischievous grin, and he leaned in closer, his eyes locking with hers. "Well, sometimes the truth is cheesy," he teased, his voice low and teasing.

Her breath caught in her throat, the intensity of their connection growing stronger with each passing moment. Ophelia felt a rush of emotions swirling within her, unsure of how to respond but not wanting the moment to end. Tate took a subtle step back, holding out the rose he had carefully prepared for her. Ophelia's eyes fell upon the darkened petals, and a soft smile danced across her lips.

"I painted it black," Tate explained with a touch of pride, as Ophelia reached out to accept the unique gift. "I know how you don't like normal things."

A spark of surprise flickered in her eyes as she cradled the rose in her hand. "You're the first person to ever give me a flower," Ophelia admitted, her smile growing wider as she appreciated the gesture. Tate chuckled in response, utterly enchanted by her reaction as she looked up at him. "Thank you. I love it."

"Ready to go on our date?" he asked, his voice gentle and inviting.

✧