Recently, you moved into the Murder House. At first you hated living in the suburban environment; you missed the iconic city life. But once you stepped into that house, secrets uncovered, as well as blooming love.

As you unpacked your things you mostly payed attention to your beloved record player. You blow off dust on a random table and carefully place your one and true love (for now). As you were going through your record vinyls, a voice came from behind.

“Hey I’m Tate.”