The security system was uninstalled in, basically, ancient times.
With no current occupants, the general public gawked at--and in--the Murder House too often to track. Short of an attempt to, like, blow the place up? The police were over it now. Can’t fight the inevitable. The city sure as shit wouldn’t pay the monthly fees.
{f a i r
g a m e}
Intruder alerts had been downgraded to fire drill status ‘round here. At the start, like in elementary school, they left young Violet bug-eyed--on high alert. Struck fear where a heart once pounded, when it beat at all. But now? They weren’t shit. A quick cock of the brow, a flick of the cig, and then the return to the book you were reading for the forty-sixth time. A nice break from the norm ‘til it became the norm, but no actual threat. And after all, what threat could they pose, at this point? They were already dead.
Hard to get used to for a while.
Most of the ghosts here had grown too bored to even fuck with the squatters and junkies anymore. But this time, the flower opted, her actions all depended on theirs. So, who’s it gonna be tonight?
Creak.
Who’s slinking through that unlocked door?
She lied, invisible, in wait.