𝕭𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖓 ✧ American Horror Story

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚙𝚎'𝚜 𝙱𝚘𝚡

✧

Flashback

In the dimly lit living room of the murder house, Constance lay sprawled out on the couch, lost in a drunken stupor. Meanwhile, two young boys, seven-year-old Tate and Elliot, took refuge in playing with a bright yellow toy truck. Tate's house had become a haven for Elliot, as he sought solace from his troubled home life and found camaraderie with his friend Tate. Both boys knew the pain of having parents who struggled with their own demons.

Laughter and giggles filled the air as the friends played, their innocent joy a stark contrast to the dark surroundings. Tate's carefree demeanor shifted suddenly as he recognized the risk of waking his intoxicated mother. "Shh. We can't wake up my mom," Tate cautioned, his laughter fading into seriousness.

Elliot, apologetic for accidentally knocking the toy down the basement stairs, felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry, Tate. I didn't mean to."

Tate peaked around the corner at his sleeping mother and confirmed that they were safe to continue their game. "We're good," he reassured.

"I'm going to get it," Elliot nodded determinedly, though his unease about the basement was palpable.

Tate acknowledged Elliot's fear, his willingness to help overpowering his own discomfort. "I'll go with you."

"Okay, let's go," Elliot agreed, their bond providing comfort as they embarked on their mission. Together, the young boys descended the basement stairs, the darkness of the basement looming ahead.

Tate's courage led the way, with Elliot trailing close behind, his apprehension evident. Suddenly, a box fell seemingly out of nowhere, startling both boys. The unexpected noise jolted them, and their eyes darted around nervously.

"What was that?" Panic tinged Elliot's voice as he scanned the shadows, the basement's eerie atmosphere intensifying his anxiety.

Tate, however, remained undeterred, his determination to retrieve the toy unwavering. Ignoring the unsettling incident, he continued his search through the basement. Elliot, his unease growing, hesitated. "Maybe we should go back upstairs," he suggested, the fear evident in his voice.

Tate's focus remained on his goal, his determination blinding him to the lurking danger. "I found it," he declared triumphantly, crouching down and crawling beneath a table to retrieve the toy.

Unbeknownst to them, the creature responsible for the earlier disturbance was lying in wait. As Tate reached for the toy, the creature's grasp snaked out and pulled him underneath the table. Elliot's scream joined Tate's as he watched his friend vanish.

"Tate! Tate!" Elliot's voice trembled with terror as he realized his friend was in danger. Driven by instinct to help, he crawled beneath the table, intending to rescue Tate. However, the creature seized him as well, yanking both boys out from their hiding place.

Panic escalated as the creature's intentions grew darker, threatening to harm the boys. Just as it was about to strike, a blonde woman materialized, her presence casting a protective shield around them. She intervened, her arms enveloping the boys and pulling them away from the danger.

"No, Thaddeaus. Go away!" Nora's voice was firm, her command compelling the creature to retreat. As Tate and Elliot trembled, the woman lowered herself to their level, her touch a soothing balm against their fear.

Nora shushed Elliot, tenderly wiping away his tears. Her hand cupped Tate's cheek, radiating warmth and comfort. "Shh, tell me, what's your name?"

"T—Tate," he managed to stammer, finding solace in her gaze.