My name is Louis Daniels.
And I'm not entirely sure why I'm here. But I sure am glad that I am.

(This is a AHS roleplay account.)

Louis sat up on the bed in the second bedroom, fingering the lace top cover on the bed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d made himself visible (or why exactly), but he liked it. He felt normal when he could look into a mirror and see his reflection back. He felt comfortable. He felt alive.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t that stupid. He remembered the first time he tried to leave the house — April fourth of ‘54, to be exact — only to be returned back to the yard. He ran through it a few more times, thinking to be stuck in some kind of Twilight Zone-esque multidimensional hole, until he took a deep breath and went upstairs to calm down. Something is wrong, he thought. I can’t leave. I’m stuck in this house, and — that was the moment when he walked past the mirror in the bedroom and saw nothing.

Lou eventually grew to embrace it, just like the living embrace moving from one house to another, or transferring schools, or cutting all their hair off just for a change. He watched family after family come in, and family after family come out (or not, if the bodies couldn’t be found). There were a few girls in the sixties that delighted him with their curled hair and go-go boots, but after that he didn’t find much joy in anything except for the record player they left up in the attic.

Whenever he needed time to himself, he’d drag it down to his (he always insisted it was his when it was vacant) bedroom, turn it on, and put a record in to dance to. He’d comb tufts of his dark, thick hair back, take one look in the mirror to make sure everything was nice and pretty — in case he was burst in upon, he wanted to look nice — and then, he’d dance.

It was Tiger Wilson versus Kid McCoy
In the summer of ‘93.
Now the kid was everybody’s pride and joy
Just game as a kid could be.