She wanted to be a pretty girl. Of course, she didn’t look so pretty lying on that table, under those harsh, energy efficient lights. One of the many comforts of having children is knowing one’s youth has not fled, but merely been passed down to a new generation. They say when a parent dies, a child feels his own mortality. But when a child dies, it’s immortality that a parent loses.
You did encourage her, that’s true, but you were just trying to be kind, weren’t you? I was the one who sent her out into the world tonight. and it did what it will do. Go ahead, drink your tea, honey. A cigarette? Just don’t let your mama know that I am encouraging your vices. You know,Adelaide was a willful child. I suppose if she inherited anything from me it was that. In truth, I think my little monster was more like me than any of my other children. Tate cannot know about this, Violet. He cannot know that his sister has passed. Not now. He doesn’t react well to certain things, so you- you have to promise me. He’s a sensitive boy, you’ve seen that. He’s a young man with too deep feelings; the soul of a poet but none of the grit or steel that acts as a bulwark against this… these horrors of this world. The steel that has protected me, that Adelaide possessed and that- that you have too. I, uh, I think that’s why he’s taken so with you. He craves your strength. Look, maybe he misses his sister, but we must protect him, Violet.
American Horror Story, Constance Langdon