Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7486101.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      American_Horror_Story:_Murder_House
  Relationship:
      Violet_Harmon/Tate_Langdon
  Character:
      Violet_Harmon, Tate_Langdon, Constance_Langdon
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Self-Harm, NSFW, Murder_House, Tate_The_Psychopath, The
      Only_Season_That_Matters, Psychological_Thriller, Suicide, No_Fluff,
      Darkfic, Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-14 Completed: 2018-02-02 Chapters: 17/17 Words: 37503
****** Outrun My Gun ******
by zuzaisaloser
Summary
     Violet has always liked to play with fire. Tate was more than willing
     to help her burn.
Notes
     Warning: This story contains adul themes, mentions of self-harm/
     mental illness, and gruesome descriptions.
     AU. Tate is alive, he never committed the shooting.
     Next 5 chapters are written and edited, I will be updating shortly.
     Constructive criticism is always welcome :-).
***** Chapter 1 *****
She has never been the type to show her true feelings. Discontent was a mere
frown on her face. Her anger never outspoken. Best she could come up with were
sarcastic remarks. Running upstairs and shutting the door if things got too
heated up. Not once did she shout at her father for being a disgusting cheater.
On the other hand, not once did she try to comfort her mother. She was always
there, ready to listen to her ramblings if need be, but never to offer a
helping hand. It is not that she did not have a strong opinion on the matter.
If it was up to her, Ben would be long gone, contact cut-off for good. Even
more so, if she had the guts she would find that little student of his and spit
into her face. But she didn't. All her feelings kept deep inside, the only way
to let them go was through slicing the razor across her arms. Or hips. Or
chest. She once tried to slide the blade around her throat but she wasn't
ready. Not yet. If the day comes, she thought, she will be.
Throughout long months between her father's affair and them moving, she devoted
her time to listening. Listening and taking those silly pills supposed to cure
her depression. "Isn't it funny," she thought to herself "that 50 mg of this is
supposed to heal my mind?". Anytime she went to the kitchen to take her shot,
as she liked to call it, she would stand by the counter and listen. Funny how
some people believe they are private while they scream so loud that neighbors
three floors down can hear. At first there was no screaming though. Dead
silence. Anytime she went downstairs she could hear Morissey's voice pumping
through her speakers. Then, occasionally, there would be hushed voice of her
father followed by her mother's rapid screaming. Get outs and leave me alones
became the most used phrases in Harmon's household. Later came the screaming
marathons. Ben would no longer leave when ordered. He would stay and try to
"talk things out". His exact words. "Talk things out". As if brutal miscarriage
and affair with someone 20 years his junior could be talked out.
"Hey, I fucked my student in our bed. It happened more than once. You slept in
the very same sheets as did she. Let's talk this out!". Violet would be
disgusted with her father's persistence if not for her sick curiosity.
Curiosity that would get her killed one day. Then the screamings turned into
actual conversations. The conversations led to the bright idea of leaving
Boston and traveling across the country to start "anew". As always, she did not
say a word. She was unhappy, sure. But she believed that the best way to put
her parents off is to stay quiet. So quiet she stayed.
===============================================================================
 
Arriving in California was even worse than she imagined. The exaggerating heat
was too much too handle. She was used to wearing layers over layers. Oversized
sweaters over oversized dresses and shirts over thighs. Not exactly the clothes
you would wear on always sunny, always humid West Coast. Although she couldn't
deny that she felt a tiny bit excited. She has only ever left Boston to visit
her grandmother in Virginia. And now she was across the country. In a new
place. She knew right away that she would not make friends here. She knew that
she would suffer in the heat. But she was looking forward to overstepping her
boundaries. For any normal sixteen years old moving across the country would be
maddening because of all the friends left behind, all the high-school
sweethearts forgotten, and all the favorite places not to be visited again. She
felt the angst too, after all she wasn't a complete loner. Actually, the way
she carried herself was considered kinda cool in Boston. But the part of
herself that hated her body, and her mind at times, was excited. In some
twisted way she was looking forward to suffering under those new conditions.
She wanted the sweat to make her favorite, yellow sweater itchy on her skin.
She looked forward to being confronted with loneliness, not having someone to
sneak out to smoke cigarettes or to drink vodka straight from the bottle while
hiding behind the school bins.
Her father's rambling interrupted her peaceful thinking. They were getting
close to their destination. Long street with similar houses on the each side,
green lawns and exotic flowers. They weren't really exotic. She has just never
seen them in real life. Violet's eyes focused on person after person, perfect
Californian mothers and their groomed husbands. Each woman with long legs, tiny
waist, fake tits and fat-injected-from-my-stomach ass. The way they carried
themselves like models on a catwalk made her chuckle. They were all the same.
Perfect Stepford Wives, devoting their lives to cooking balanced meals and
changing shitty diapers. All of that, of course, when they weren't sucking
their husbands' dicks religiously as to make them stay.
At last their soon-to-be house appeared. She would never admit that but after
her father's constant rambling about "historical" mansion, Violet looked it up
online. She was not disappointed. The Murder House, as it was referred to on
one of the websites, was supposedly the place where numerous gruesome events
took place. It looked even better than in the pictures. The creepy vibe it was
giving out made her smile. Best of all, it wasn't the very same type of
building like each of the houses with perfect gardens that they had passed.
After stepping out of the car, she had to stop her stomach from turning.
Apparently Ben believed that all is good in the family and he held Vivien close
against her obvious stiffness. Violet followed them to the door. Stepping in,
she felt overwhelmed. The place was huge with wide corridors and massive wooden
stairs. Dark wallpaper and bottle-green lamps suited her style. Straight away
she left the parents' side to discover what else was there.
"Isn't it beautiful?" She heard her father's voice. It sure was, at least in
Violet's book.
"I am going to pick my room," Violet shouted while running upstairs.
"Just not the master bedroom," answered Vivien merrily. Violet's heart was
pumping with excitement. The house had at least three floors from what she's
already seen, but she suspected that there had to be an attic and cellar as
well in such a spacious building. In her head she started making plans. There
were only three of them, the master bedroom was on the first floor. If she was
to pick a room on the third one she would have all of the storey to herself.
That meant that she could do whatever she wanted, listening to her music loud,
smoking in her bedroom even. Finally, she stopped in front of one of the open
doors. The room had her attention instantly. Dark-purple walls, enormous bed
just by the window overlooking the street. It was fully furnitured as well. The
desk, the wardrobe, even an old chalkboard on the wall left to the bed.
Previous owners did not even remove rugs or curtains. She walked slowly to the
bed, taking all of the new in. For the first time in months Violet felt
content.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     As promised, next chapter. Twice as long. :) As mentioned before, I
     have next chapters ready so let me know if I should upload them day
     after day or maybe week after week, I don't know. Let me know what
     works best for you.
Violet couldn't sleep. She was leaning by the window frame, her legs dangling
nonchalantly. Rolling the cigarette, she was thinking about the upcoming day.
Come morning she would have to dress up, pack her stuff, and leave for school.
Westfield High. The name reminded her of those fancy boarding schools in
England. The ones her back-home friend used to tell her about. She wasn't
looking forward to being a centre of attention. Fresh blood. Even better for
local kids, she was different. Her slender, boyish figure, make-up-less face.
Dirty blond hair, not once dyed. Not even with those silly colorful dyes that
would wash up eventually. And her clothes. Layered. Way too warm for the
weather. "Those bitches will have something to gossip about," she thought.
Violet knew that she had to find a job as well. That wasn't too bad actually.
She has never worked a day till they moved. Her family was well-off and her
father always over-protective. But she knew that the opportunity had come. She
would land some stable, little job, maybe at a local vinyl shop that she had
spotted exploring the neighborhood. She would save up to buy cocaine from the
local druggies. Even her school in Boston had cocaine-heads, without a doubt
Westfield would have twice the number. She was always curious about addictive
substances. Not like she wanted to smoke meth or something, but she had heard
that cocaine makes you numb and that appeared attractive to little Violet.
"Will you stop," hushed male voice coming from the street interrupted her train
of thought "I won't. Those fucking shrinks mess with my head." She tried to
identify where was it coming from and finally her eyes focused on the house on
the other side of the street. Open front door caught her attention. In was
standing a woman, at least 50 years old, her face worried but persistent. She
was looking at the man standing in front of her. All Violet could tell was that
he was tall, at least 6ft, broad-shouldered with head full of blond curls.
"You will go to therapy whether you want it or not. I will not risk my
reputation around here, Tate." Woman's voice had strong southern accent, but
the way she spoke reminded Violet of old Hollywood actresses. She instantly
thought of Vivien Leigh and her theatrical way of speaking. Tate, cause
apparently that was the man's name, nodded his head. Violet was curious.
Extremely curious. She inhaled the smoke, her eyes not leaving the arguing
couple. Then the door closed with a loud slam. Tate was slowly making his way
down the stairs of the house. That's when he looked up. She should feel
embarrassed for getting caught but she wasn't. She stared at him intensively.
His face was picture perfect, or so Violet thought. Strong, sharp jaw-line,
full lips, beady eyes. Crown of blond locks covering his forehead. He smirked
at her and proceeded to the black Mustang parked on the street.
===============================================================================
 
"Violet, will you please hurry?" said Vivien standing by the entrance door. She
was worried that they will be late on her daughter's very first day at the new
school. Violet came running down the stairs.
"Sorry, have to look my best" she joked sarcastically. She was wearing baggy
black dress, knitted sweater, thighs and leather boots.
"You will melt in those clothes," Vivien's patronizing tone made Violet cringe.
"That's kinda the point," she remarked. They made their way into SUV parked on
the street. Violet didn't sleep at all last night. After her "encounter" with
mister-jackass-angel-face she settled on her bed listening to The Smiths and
reading. Vivien looked hopeful. She turned the music on and proceed down the
street.
"You know, me and your father were thinking," she started "that you will need a
car. He doesn't trust public communication in this city. I know, that's so his
style. Anyway, he decided that it would be for the best if you had your own
vehicle. Of course it doesn't mean that Ben is letting you loose. He wants you
to drive from and to school... eventually to do some grocery shopping.". Violet
stopped listening to her mother's rambling after the "you will need a car"
part. She was excited. Not that it was showing on her face but the idea of
having her first car made her squeak inside. Another step towards freedom. They
arrived by the huge, walls-made-of-glass type of building in no time.
"That's it for old-school style school," Violet thought. She made her goodbyes,
waved at leaving Vivien and started walking towards the entrance. Checking her
phone she realized that she still has 10 minutes left. Plenty of time for a
cigarette. She didn't know school's policy concerning smoking, but following
her better judgment she decided to settle quite a distance from the building.
Violet unpacked her tobacco and skins, and started rolling the cigarette.
"Hey you!" she heard a man's voice. "Shoot. Great. Fucking brilliant. One of
those idiots is going to scald me for smoking," she thought. Approaching her
was a tall, muscled guy with olive skin and raven black hair. His brown eyes
were flickering with amusement. She instantly knew that he was a teenage heart-
throb. A boy that all of the junior girls were thinking about while applying
make-up and picking their most revealing clothes.
"Don't worry. I am not going to instruct you that smoking is not allowed here.
I wanted to ask if you could roll one for me as well." Not what she was
expecting.
"Have this one. I will roll another," said Violet passing him the cigarette. He
took it from her hands and started searching his pockets for a lighter.
"By the way, I am Trevor. You will for sure hear about me anyway but that would
be rude not to introduce myself, right?" Violet chuckled at his cockiness.
"I am not really interested in hearing about high-school jocks, but sure.
Name's Violet." Trevor laughed exhaling the smoke.
"So, new girl, huh? Where do you come from? Surely not from here. No girl in
her sane mind would wear thighs in this heat." His remarks amused Violet. She
liked people crossing the boundaries.
"Boston. Good 'ol Boston is where I come from. Thanks for noticing though, I
will take it as a compliment." Trevor smirked. For a minute they were sitting
in silence, inhaling the smoke. She was examining the surrounding area and he
was examining her.
"Okay, Violet," he said extinguishing his cigarette "I will be seeing you...and
thanks for the cig." Then he started to walk towards the group of boys similar
to him. Tall, muscled, tanned. He for sure was a star of school's football
representation or something. Maybe a basketball player considering his height.
Not that it mattered to her. She wasn't interested in dating anyone. Well maybe
if it was somehow beneficial to her. Violet made her way into the school
building and managed to find her class just as the bell rang.
===============================================================================
 
Ben was waiting for her at 3 P.M. sharp. Luckily for her, he wasn't making a
show out of it. His car was parked down the street and not on the school
parking.
"Thank fucking God," thought Violet as she was approaching his car.
"My little girl!" he exclaimed with exaggerated excitement. "How was your first
day at school? How were the classes? Made any friends? More importantly…met any
boys? Do I need to buy a gun?" Not 2 minutes in small space with him and she
was already annoyed. Ben was terrible at making jokes. Even worse so, he
believed himself to be the funniest guy to ever walk the earth.
"No, dad. Didn't make any friends. Didn't meet any boys. School's alright." She
wanted the conversation to be over and she didn't even have to lie. By the end
of the day she forgot about ever meeting Trevor. She spent her day lonely,
sneaking out for a cigarette or sitting in the library, browsing through books
that she had no interest in.
"Your mother told me that you already know about the car." Ben was looking at
her. "I picked a nice truck for you," he continued "I am supposed to meet with
the guy tomorrow. If all is good you will have it by the end of the week." She
didn't respond. She didn't want to start yet another conversation with him. He
dropped her off by the house saying that there is some grocery shopping to be
done. She made her way into the house. Violet planned on sneaking quietly to
her room but she stopped as she heard voices coming from the kitchen. She put
her bag down and leaned by the wall to hear her mother talking with someone.
"No, it is not a good idea at all. I understand that the younger generation
wants to make everything modern-looking but this house is a historical site!"
Violet recognized the thick accent instantly. The neighbor who had a chitty-
chat with mysterious Tate yesterday's night. "Vivien, I used to live here too
and God did I detest those wallpapers! But looking back it made me everything
look so sumptuous! Too bad my poor excuse of a husband did not appreciate the
beauty of this mansion. I had to sell it and move elsewhere."
"You sold it on your own," she heard her mother saying "I thought you just said
you were living here with your husband?"
"He died, terrible tragedy. Good thing none of the blood splashed on the
antique wooden furniture. Anyway, God bless his soul." That woman was a
freaking sociopath in Violet's book. "Luckily, before that we were able to
procreate. The first one did not work out quite as we expected, cruel joke of
fortune. Do not get me wrong, I love her to the bone, it is just that I felt
punished by Lord himself. The next one happened to be perfectly healthy though.
Tall and strong. Handsome. Smart. He is my joy and pride." Vivien was quiet for
a moment. Apparently the realization that her neighbor was a sociopath, or
narcissist at best, had to sink in. Violet was still standing by the door
frame, listening to the women sipping from their cups. At last, the neighbor
broke the silence.
"I digress," she stated slowly "When will your husband, Ben is it, be back
home? I need to talk to him about the matter I am most concerned with."
"He was supposed to pick Violet from school and then go grocery shopping. I
think I mentioned that he would be back by four."
"Well Violet is here now, is she not?" Violet froze at the words. How in the
hell did this woman know that? Her face flushed aggressively. Vivien stepped
outside the kitchen just in time to catch Violet making her way upstairs.
"Violet? When did you get back? Why didn't you say hello?" The questions were
making Violet angry. "Come and meet our neighbor, Mrs. Langdon". Vivien didn't
seem too pleased with her presence in their house but she decided to be civil
toward her neighbor. Violet followed her mother to the kitchen. At the stool
was sitting a woman that she had seen last night, only that now she could take
a better look at her. Her posture proud, legs crossed at ankles. She was
wearing a blue, knee-length dress with a floral print. Her blond hairdo held
together by ridiculous amount of hair-spray. Pretty old-school if you were to
ask Violet. Her neck was graced with white pearls. Similarly, her wrists and
fingers were covered in gold jewellery. Her face, although no longer young, was
still showing signs of once great beauty. She looked as if set in stone, not
showing any emotions. Her brown eyes cold.
"Mrs. Langdon, nice to meet you." Woman's face changed rapidly, now she was
giving her a warm-smile.
"Sweetheart, I am so glad that I finally get to meet you. Your mother told me a
lot about you." Violet doubted that. Her mother seemed frigid, smile not
meeting her eyes.
"I bet she did." The silence that followed was uncomfortable. That's when Ben
opened the front door and walked straight into the kitchen, smile plastered on
his face. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed three women staring at him.
"Excuse me, didn't know that I was invited for the afternoon tea." His joke
went unnoticed.
"Ben, this is Constance Langdon, our neighbor," said Vivien "She needs to talk
to you about something. Professionally." Ben's face changed. Goofy smile left
his face as soon as he sensed money from possible appointments.
"Oh, of course. Mrs. Langdon, will you please follow me to my office?"
Constance stood up, straightened her dress, thanked Vivian for the coffee and
oh-so-lovely chat. Then she followed Ben out the door. Violet looked at her
mother picking the cups and saucers from the kitchen table. She seemed relived
that Constance is gone.
"That woman is crazy," she spoke pointing at Ben's office. Violet smiled. Yes,
Constance was weird, but from what she has already seen that ran in the Langdon
family. She made her way upstairs and tossed the heavy boots and sweater into
the room's corner. Try as she might, Violet couldn't deny that "creepy" and
"weird" was attractive to her. She lit a cigarette and laid down on her bed,
thinking what next move should she make on her way to freedom.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Violet's steps echoed through an empty house. Persistent knocking on the door
made her fasten her pace.
"I am coming!" she shouted. "Jesus, I am coming, I hear you!". She was getting
angry. She ran to the doors and opened them to see Constance, in all her grace,
standing by the door with plate full of cupcakes.
"Violet, darling, I was expecting to see you."
"And I was not expecting to see you," was what Violet wanted to say but instead
she settled for something nicer.
"Mrs. Langdon! Please come inside, my mother is…" She didn't have a chance to
finish her sentence as Constance was already making her way to the kitchen.
Their neighbor could be extremely charming one minute and devilishly annoying
the next.
"Will you please make me a cup of coffee," she asked. "No sugar. Please, heat
up the milk as well. Drinking lukewarm coffee is not something I enjoy." Violet
started to understand why it was so hard to get rid of Constance. She left no
space for interpretation nor did she ever grant her acquaintances with the
privilege of saying "no". Actually, Violet hasn't seen her since the last time
she visited. Constance left after a short conversation with Ben, not to be seen
again for a week to come. To be quite honest, Violet never even noticed her
around the garden. She was itching to ask Constance about Tate but she decided
to make a small talk instead.
"So, Mrs. Langdon, what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" Violet had to try
her best not to chuckle. Constance's manner of speaking was something she
enjoyed making fun of. Older woman did not notice though or she simply
pretended not to.
"Oh, Violet, I just came here to spend some time with my neighbors. We haven't
had a new family here in almost ten years. The house was empty. Can not blame
me for trying to befriend you, can you?" Violet didn't trust a word coming out
of Constance's mouth. That woman wanted something from her family. She put a
cup of coffee in front of Mrs. Langdon and one in front of herself. Constance
took a sip and looked at Violet with a smile. "How is Westfield? It did not
disappoint you, did it?" She hated the way in which this woman was asking
questions, again, no chance for sincere answer.
"It's alright. I quite enjoy the classes I have. American lit is cool."
Constance nodded her head in agreement but she looked as if she did not care
for an answer. "My son finished Westfield as well. Honor student. Made his
mother very proud". Now, that was something which caught Violet's attention.
She pushed the subject.
"Really? You have a son? I have never seen any children around here…or
teenagers for that matter." She played stupid. She has heard enough from
Constance herself about woman's family life.
"Why, yes. I have a son. A daughter too, Addie. You see, Tate is not exactly a
teenager anymore but he sure acts like it sometimes." Violet waited for her to
continue. "Always have to clean his mess. Anyway, he visits occasionally. Does
not live far away. He has landed a job as a lecturer recently, so you can see
why he does not have much time left for his mother" That's not what Violet
expected. Tate, even if she saw him for a mere minute or two, looked nothing
like a university professor.
"Lecturer? He really must be quite smart then." She wanted to tackle
Constance's ego to get some more information. The woman looked at her with a
smug smile.
"He is. English literature is what he teaches. It has always been his favorite.
I wished that he would became an actor or something similarly lucrative. Face
like his could kill but that is life for you." Violet didn't say anything. She
was deep in her own thoughts. So the guy was not only good-looking, he actually
had brains too. Impressive considering L.A. reality.
"Well, if that makes him happy then good for him". Warm smile disappeared from
Constance's face.
"You do not understand, Violet. I am happy for him too, What kind of mother do
you think I am? But he was Westfield's track-running star. Always surrounded by
a group of friends. A beautiful girl on his arm. He could have had it all. The
way women look at him, if he had ever made it to the silver screen, he would
have been famous over-night. If not for that silly bitch that ruined
everything". "Here it comes again", Violet thought. Constance and her psychotic
rambling.
"Well, that's not for me to judge, Mrs. Langdon. I have never even seen him
before." Constance gave her a patronizing look.
"Did you not, Violet?" she asked coldly and put her cup down. "I have to go.
Have things to attend this afternoon," then she looked at the plate she brought
with her "Please, have a cupcake. I made them for you." She gave Violet a warm
smile. "I will see myself out." With that, she was gone. Violet took one of
pre-made cigarettes from her pocket. Gray smoke started to fill the kitchen as
she was wondering how Constance can go from here-for-you-friendly-neighbor to
i-hate-you-you-little-slut under one minute. How did she even know that Violet
saw Tate that night? His car was never around Langdon's house. She has never
noticed him go in or Constance go out. Sure, he could call her, but what would
he say, "Hey mom, that little girl from Murder House stared at me intensively
for full minute as I was leaving last week"? The thought actually made her
laugh. She extinguished her cigarette and started cleaning after Constance's
visit.
===============================================================================
 
On Monday Violet was starting her first job. She landed the position at the
vinyl store just as she had planned. This and the fact that she has recently
got her truck made her excited. She hasn't cut in quite some time too. Maybe it
was the fact that all her plans slowly started to unfold. After she cleaned the
dishes, she made her way upstairs and called her father, who was supposedly on
a business trip to Boston. She didn't really care and she didn't want to spend
time chatting with him about nothing at all but she had to make sure that he
wouldn't call checking on her later in the evening. Violet planned to go out.
She knew that no regular bar in the area would allow someone her age to enter
but she was smart enough to research what shady places didn't care about the
age of their clients. And she knew just the right person to ask. Although her
and Trevor didn't talk, except for quick greetings while passing each other,
she had made a point of cornering him once he wasn't surrounded by his group of
friends. Two hand-rolled cigarettes later she knew what places were a go-to on
the map of her district. Trevor had even mentioned "bumping" into her if she
picked his favorite spot. She decided to wait for her mother to come home from
her shopping-spree before breaking the news. Or maybe more accurately – lying.
The chance arised during the dinner they were eating comfortably in front of
the TV.
"I am going out tonight," she started "I know. I am only 16. It is a new place.
But I made a friend at school and she invited me out and I am dying to leave
this castle of a house." Violet wondered how Constance's method would work on
her mother. Vivien opened her mouth to speak twice but each time no words came
out. "Mom, you wanted me to make friends, didn't you? You were telling me that
the move wouldn't be so bad. Well, I have a chance to make friends and I have a
chance to make it good. And dad's not here…" Vivien interrupted her.
"Yes, Violet, okay. Okay. I get it. It would be stupid of me to risk you
sneaking out. I'd much rather you go somewhere with my approval. You can go out
with your friend. But I need you to promise me that you will not turn your
phone off. And that you will not be drinking! And that…". Violet hugged her
mother for the first time in months. And for the first time in months it was
sincere.
===============================================================================
Violet decided that she has to dress somehow more maturely. Even if the bar
staff was not to check her ID, no-one in their sane mind would serve alcohol to
an obvious high-schooler. She settled for a knee-length bottle-green dress that
her mother had forced on her sometime in the past. It was not revealing in the
slightest, with no cleavage or thighs showing, but she still felt naked. Her
bony arms and collarbones were clearly visible. If the dress was any tighter
people would see her ribs as well. She decided to put some cardigan on to make
her feel more like herself. Even if her mother bought her some clothes that
Violet would (almost) never wear, she could never force her to try-on a pair of
nice shoes. Not that she cared. Her favorite worn-out Converse would be her
first pick anyway. She skipped make-up entirely. Mostly because she did not own
any but even more so because she was not going to cake-up her face for one
night out. She decided to put her hair in a high ponytail. Violet figured that
thin people usually look older because of the sharp features so it would be for
the best if she didn't hide her face behind a curtain of straight, dirty blond
hair. She said her goodbyes and made her way to the car. She has already
decided that she would pick a place furthest away from the house. She didn't
want to risk meeting any neighbors. Violet doubted that Stepford Wives enjoyed
smoke-filled, crowded, and dirty bars but better safe than sorry. 30 minutes
later she was driving into a poorly-lit but full parking lot. The name of the
bar was not clearly visible from where she parked, but she figured out that she
probably had to look for drunk teenagers and shady types. She was not mistaken.
The only place surrounded by the circle of people was a ruined building with
broken windows and graffiti all over its walls.
"Yup, that's it," she thought to herself. The only way in was to go down
slippery stairs. So she did. The place was heavy from cigarette smoke. Her eyes
started tearing up before she made it to the bar. The music was playing loud,
but not loud enough to not hear one's own thoughts. The floor was filled with
people. Tables were standing by the walls with people sitting on what seemed to
be garden chairs. This place was not fancy, that's for sure. She walked to one
of many free stools right by the counter. She knew that she wanted to get dizzy
but not drunk. After all she had to get back home in one piece. The barman was
a middle-age man with bald head and stomach showing but otherwise quite
pleasant looking.
"What can I get ya?" he asked with a strong foreign accent. Violet had to make-
up her mind quickly. She did not want to look as if she was doing something
sketchy. "Vodka. With coke, please," she answered giving the man her best
smile. He chuckled.
"Comin' right at ya." Violet relaxed. The thing she came here for was given to
her easily. The barman provided her with a glass and she quickly paid for her
drink. She took a sip. Alcohol was burning her tongue. She had tried vodka
before, hell, she had drunk it straight from the bottle, but she wasn't used to
sipping on a drink and what's more – pretending to enjoy it.
"Since when are high-school kids drinkin' hard alcohol," barman asked, looking
at her with amusement in her eyes. So her attire didn't work out. She decided
to play it cool. "Since when is vodka sold to high-schoolers?" The man laughed.
The little one was way more enjoyable than any of those conceited kids.
"Darlin', I don't give a shit about it being illegal," he answered. "If you
haven't noticed yet, you are in the devil's asshole. This place is makin' money
because of spoiled high-schoolers lookin' for a place to spend their daddies'
cash." Violet laughed sincerely. "My children ain't gonna feed themselves. Pigs
can check this place anytime they want. If I see someone sketchy, I am gone,"
he continued with a smile. Violet was halfway through her drink already, she
enjoyed listening to the barman too much. She had to stop herself from downing
the whole glass. Instead she took her phone out and texted Vivien as to avoid
worried calls later into the night. Before she could finish the barman was
leaning in to her "Now listen carefully. I ain't your daddy but there's a man
there, in the corner," Violet was about to look around when he almost shouted
at her not to turn her head. "He is starin' at ya. He fished ya' out of the
crowd. If he comes here and tries to sweet-talk ya' don't fall for it. Don't
leave with him." Her stomach turned. Scarcely had she made herself comfortable
she had to be extremely vary of her surroundings. She started sipping on her
drink again, careful not to look around. That's when she felt it. Someone was
staring at her intensively. She could not bear the pressure. Against her better
judgment she slowly turned her face. Curiosity killed the cat.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     I know that I update every other day BUT I've already written and
     edited 7 of the chapters. After the 7th one my pace will slow down
     and I will be updating twice a week (Wednesdays and Saturdays).
     Anyways, we finally get some Tate and Violet action! Hope you enjoy
     and remember that constructive criticism is always welcome.
     Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm. Triggering
     content is under the last cut.
Their eyes met and Violet's heart stopped. Staring at her was no-one else but
Tate. Playful smile was gracing his lips but he didn't move, didn't nod his
head even. It looked as if he didn't even care to greet her properly. Violet
exhaled deeply and looked at her hands. And then she laughed. Sincere, loud
laugh was leaving her mouth.
"Jackass," she thought. The barman was staring at her, unsure of what to think.
"That's my neighbor's son, Tate. I know him," said Violet. The information did
not put the man on ease.
"He could be the Queen of England for all I care, what I said still stands."
Violet looked at his face and then at her own hands. She decided to roll a
cigarette. Smile was playing on her lips.
"Pour me another one, will ya'," she asked the barman playfully. He chuckled
and poured her a drink.
"That will be 4$…"
"Violet. Name's Violet." He smiled.
"That will be 4$, Violet. Name's Tom." She returned the smile and started
sipping on her drink. She actually enjoyed herself. Downing it down she felt
like dancing. Violet hardly ever danced but that's vodka for you. She waved at
Tom and made her way onto the floor. Pleasant dizziness caught her head as she
started to move with the crowd. No familiar faces around, no sign of Tate.
Violet enjoyed the R&B beats playing. Not her usual cup of tea but for a moment
she didn't care. That's when two strong hands were placed on her waist. She
stiffened instantly.
"I didn't come all the way down here to be touched by some ugly, drunk, sweaty
teenager," anger started boiling inside of her. Violet turned around to tell
someone off and she was met with a pair of piercing brown eyes. Tate. Violet
was mesmerized. Finally she had a chance to look at him up close. Constance was
right. That face could kill. He looked even better tonight than when she had
seen him last time. Her dizzied state didn't help with the staring. She was
studying his face until the grip on her waist tightened. That's when the
situation hit her. He was a good few years her senior, preying on her all
right. He did not approach her when she was seated by the bar, did not
introduce himself properly. He waited for her to drink some and then decided to
just grab her at the dance-floor. She sobered instantly.
"What do you think you are doing," Violet asked angrily grabbing his hands and
putting them off her body. He looked genuinely hurt. "Is this guy serious?"
"I thought that's what people do at the dance-floor, you know… dance with each
other," he answered, his eyes not leaving her face. The nerve of this guy.
"Is grabbing teenage girls what people do as well," she barked. Tate's face
changed instantly. His eyes lightened with flickers of true anger.
"Careful with accusations," he hissed through clenched teeth. Violet was
instantly drown to the fire. She wanted to get burnt.
"What, didn't your mother tell you that I am still in high-school?" Her smirk
only maddened him. The smile was wiped-off from her face as soon as he
tightened one of his hands around her neck. He lowered his mouth to her ear.
For a moment she was certain that he would lick her lobe.
"Do you want to play with fire or do you want to burn?" Violet shivered. The
way he threatened her sounded almost erotically. His deep voice was caressing
her. He loosened his grip and she was once again met with his brown eyes. His
face smoothened. Playful smile was gracing his lips yet again. She noticed the
dimples he had when smiling. She scalded herself internally. Tate could go from
pleasant to terrifying in seconds just like his mother.
"Excuse me," she said, holding onto her bag and quickly walking away. She
nearly ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang.
Dropping her bag on the floor she sat down on the toilet, face in her hands.
Violet was shaking. She didn't know what to think. He was much older, maybe
even by a decade and, clearly, he didn't even care to get to know her. Hell, he
didn't care to introduce himself! Not that Violet didn't find him alluring, she
did and that was the part of the problem. If she was a little bit older, if she
had been close to any man at all before, everything would be different.
"But that's not the reality," she spoke to herself quietly. Tate was a stranger
preying on her. She had to put herself together. Standing up and walking by the
mirror she saw a scared, little girl. Her eyes big from fear. "Okay. Calm
down," she said to herself. "He probably just wanted to fuck. Shoot. 20-
something girls marry disgusting, old, guys. I may be underage, but I am not a
child anymore. Maybe he thought that I am a senior." Her coping mechanism was
to pretend that his intentions weren't sinister at all. She would walk back
there with her head up, say goodbye to Tom and leave. Violet opened the door
and walked out. He-devil was nowhere in sight. She made her way to the bar. Tom
looked clearly relieved that the young girl is still here.
"Violet! Where were ya'? I ain't gonna lie, I was gettin' a bit worried." She
gave him her warmest smile.
"It's cool. I bumped into some high-school friends. They are waiting for me
outside, I just came here to say goodbye." Tom nodded his head and looked
around. Not spotting Tate made him relax.
"Hope I'll see you again, Violet. You are a funny little thing."
"You will Tom, I love the place…and cheap drinks." With that she left. Making
her way up the stairs she scanned the surroundings. "No Tate in sight, good."
Violet started to walk at a quick pace. She made it to car and started looking
for her keys. "Jesus, where did I even put…" Loud whistle interrupted her. Hair
stood on her back. She slowly turned around to see Tate standing about fifty
meters away, leaning on his Mustang's door. As soon as their eyes met he
grinned at her. Violet wasn't going to give him something to laugh at. She
flipped him off and got into the car then started the engine without looking in
the back mirror and drove off, instantly breaking the speed limit. She turned
the music loud as to silence annoying thoughts. Slowly, her muscles began to
relax. Violet wasn't going to turn her head back. If he was following her so be
it. She didn't give a flying fuck. Making her way up the street she thought she
had it together. She parked by her house and decided to stay in the car for a
little while. The reason was her gut feeling. She opened the window slightly
and grabbed a cigarette. Heavy smoke slowly filled the inside of her car.
Violet exhaled deeply. That's when she heard a car rolling slowly on the
street. She cautiously looked in the back mirror. Black Mustang. Violet should
feel terrified but instead she was boiling with rage. She extinguished her
cigarette and jumped of the car just as Tate was parking in front of his
mother's house. He heard her angry footsteps before he fully opened the door.
"Are you following me," she spitted angrily. Tate exited his car slowly. He
closed the door and looked at her. His mouth formed in a smirk again.
"My mother lives here." Violet opened her mouth without thinking.
"She does but somehow I haven't seen you around lately." She quickly realized
that her words could be misunderstood. It sounded as she had been observing
Constance's house in hope of seeing Tate again. Truth be told she had but he
didn't need to know that. His smile was now a full-on grin.
"Are you following me?" Violet was dumbfounded. Tate was good at playing games.
She decided to change the subject as to avoid any more embarrassment.
"And you are visiting Constance at 2 A.M.?" Tate laughed.
"She has insomnia. Sometimes she calls me to come visit her late at night so
she doesn't feel lonely."
"Doesn't she have Addie to keep her company?" His face darkened. Violet
couldn't keep up with his moods.
"Is that all? Cause I feel like I am wasting my time answering your silly
questions." Now she felt stupid for ever approaching him. He was right. His
whereabouts were none of her business. She scalded herself internally for being
so stupid. Violet overreacted and now she was met with hostility, a feeling way
too familiar. She looked at him one more time and then slowly started walking
toward her house.
"I will see you around, Violet," Tate shouted as she was opening the door.
===============================================================================
 
Violet made it into her room on one breath. She instantly took off her clothes
and let her hair loose. She searched for the razor hid in her mattress and
walked straight to the bathroom. Violet opened the tap and as the bath was
filling she looked at herself in the mirror. It made her remember why she hated
her guts so much. She could lie to herself all she wanted. She could tell
herself that she is better and that everything looks promising, but that simply
wasn't true. Her mind was full of self-disgust. Violet sat in the bath and
started playing with the razor, memories of the night flooding her mind. For
the first time in forever she felt so free and her sick mind had to ruin it.
Her face flushed deep red when she thought of the verbal abuse toward Tate. How
could she be so fucking stupid? That guy had no bad intentions at all. She
relied on Tom, a complete stranger, and lashed-out. How could Tate had even
known her real age? He had simply wanted to have some fun, to dance, maybe
something more but what's wrong with that? And she had overreacted. "Anytime I
let myself vocalize my feelings I look like an idiot." She should have stayed
quiet. Metal of the razor was burning her hand. Violet slowly pressed it
against her arm. She enjoyed the pressure. She knew that she could easily slice
her skin open. "No. That would be too obvious," Violet thought so she slid it
down slowly without cutting too deep. Blood started bubbling on the shallow
wound. Not enough. She moved the razor to her thigh. "Now, that's good." No one
would see that part of her body. She put a little more pressure and observed
thin streamlets of blood going down her leg. "Enough with the cutting." She
knew that hot water would make bleeding worse and that was what Violet enjoyed
the most. She tossed the razor on the floor. She instantly felt better.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Vivien knocked softly on Violet's door.
"Vi? Are you there?" Violet has been avoiding everyone since she came back from
her nigh-out day ago. Vivien knocked on the door again and not hearing any
response, decided to enter. Violet was lying down, hair in her face, feet
tangled in the sheets. The window was open but not wide enough to get rid of
asphyxiating smell of cigarettes. "Vi, wake up," Vivien started shaking her
delicately. "Wake up, it's almost 11." Violet opened her eyes and looked at her
mother dazedly.
"What's up?" she asked turning in the sheets. "Did something happen?"
"No, nothing happened. I just thought that it is high time you woke up," said
Vivien and then unsure whether she should even vocalize her worries, added "You
haven't left the room since yesterday's afternoon." Violet was studying her
face. Indeed, Vivien looked worried.
"Is it a crime? There's nothing to do around here, all's left for me is to rot
in my room." Vivien sighed with relief, if Violet was still giving her smart
remarks, all was good.
"Dad's back. He caught an early flight." Violet didn't look interested. "He
starts his practice today."
"Cool," said Violet. She stretched her back and stepped out of the bed to fully
open the window. She didn't feel like talking with Vivien. In some way she
appreciated her mother's instincts but since her encounter with Tate she felt
like being left alone. "I will meet you downstairs in a minute." That was a
sign for Vivien to leave.
"I made pancakes. Blueberry ones, your favorite," she said with a small smile
and walked out. Violet sat at the window and lit her cigarette. She felt so
strange. She had decided to ignore all of her thoughts about Tate and entirety
of that night in general. What were the odds of them being so close again? He
would come visit his mother sometimes, but that's all. They did not exist in
the same circles. Actually, Violet didn't exist in any social circle at all.
Their encounter in that bar was completely random. He was older, independent,
with a stable job. She was a high-schooler living with her parents. Tate was
handsome, she was average at best.
"Wait, what," she said out loud. She was doing it again. Thoughts of Tate were
flooding her mind. "Stop being so stupid," she scolded herself internally. Yes,
he was hot, whatever. There was also something extremely alluring about him.
Maybe it was the way in which he carried himself. Maybe the fact that his
persona was surrounded by understatements…"Stop!" Violet took the last smoke
and decided to dress-up. Her musings were embarrassing, the only way to stop
them was to keep herself occupied.
===============================================================================
 
"Here's my little girl," said Ben as Violet walked to the kitchen. "I haven't
seen you in ages. What's good?" He was sitting over coffee and breakfast, big
smile on his face. She rolled her eyes. Her father was unbearable with his
suddenly positive approach to everything and everyone. Violet knew that Ben was
trying so hard because of the crippling guilt but she didn't give a fuck. She
detested everything her father had become.
"Nothing's good. I am starving." She sat down and grabbed one of the pancakes
from the plate.
"Not keen on using a fork?" he tried to joke. Violet ignored him.
"Where's mom?" she really didn't want to be stuck alone with Ben.
"In the garden. Weather is great, you should go out sometimes." She was chewing
on her food slowly. "Constance's son is coming over today." Violet nearly
choked. Why would Tate ever visit them? She had to think of the way to get more
information without making Ben suspicious. Play it dumb Violet, play it dumb.
"She has a son?"
"She does. Actually, he is going to be one of my patients." Cold sweat covered
her body. She swallowed food slowly. Great. Out of all the shrinks, Tate had to
pick her father. She made a fool of herself in front of him and now she will be
seeing his face at least once a week.
"Yeah? Interesting." Ben took a sip of his coffee, put the cup down and cleared
his throat.
"Violet, we need to make some things clear," he started. "I have never had at-
home practice. You know that I sometimes work with unstable people. I need you
not to interact with any of my patients. They are not our guests. They are here
to seek help from me." Violet nodded her head.
"No interaction with any of your patients, got it." Too bad she has already
interacted with one of them too much.
"Good girl," said Ben, smiling at her warmly. She stood up slowly and walked
out, giving Ben a fake little smile.
"What do I do," was her only thought. Tate definitely had some effect on her.
As of late, effect to make her lash out. But she couldn't deny that she was
somehow drown to him. Interested in him even. Not romantically or anything but
she had that strange urge to seek him out. She made her way upstairs and threw
herself on the bed. Her eyes focused on the ceiling above. "What do I do?"
Should she ignore him? Should she apologize? Violet was way too proud for that.
Sometimes her immaturity and inexperience took the best of her. She rolled on
her stomach and lit a cigarette, plan already forming in her head. If he wants
to mess with her, she will play along. Violet grinned, slowly inhaling the
burning smoke.
===============================================================================
 
Tate has been in Ben's office for 30 minutes already when Violet made her way
downstairs. She looked around in search for Vivien but her mother was nowhere
to be found. Her steps quiet, she could hear the muffled sounds of their
conversation. Violet's curiosity had to be tamed. She stood just by the door,
listening.
"Could you elaborate," Ben's voice was calm.
"There was no connection, you know? He was just sitting there, nodding his
head. Then he prescribed me some pills, anti-depressants, that's what he said.
Never came around to taking them though." Tate had to be talking about his last
doctor. Violet wanted to know more.
"Why did you not take the pills, Tate?"
"I have tried some stuff before. Pills, I mean. They made me think about bad
things. So last time I didn't even bother."
"What were those thoughts about?"
"Blood."
"Could you elaborate, please?"
"I just had those constant visions. Visions of hurting myself. Visions of
hurting others. Drowning in blood. Couldn't sleep. Each time I put my head on a
pillow, boom! Blood. Swimming in blood." Tate didn't sound like himself. Not
that she knew him well, or at all if she was to be honest with herself, but his
pattern of speech seemed off to Violet.
"Well, that's how anti-depressants work. You have to be under constant
supervision of your doctor for the first two to three weeks. After that it
should get better. If not, they should try to treat you with something else.
Have you ever told him about the visions?" There was silence followed by Ben's
footsteps. Violet's heart sank. She hid behind the nearest corner. There was a
little click followed by muffled sounds again. Ben must have realized that the
door weren't closed fully. She waited a an additional minute and made her way
back.
"I did." Tate's voice was quiet. She had to focus to make out his words.
"Why did you do that?" "She knows a lot about me. Know more than I would like."
Who was he talking about?
"That's why she pushed you? Has she ever threatened you?" Were they talking
about Constance? She could hear Tate's laugh. It was evil. It chilled her to
the bone.
"Try living with a cocksucker for half your life and you will know." Violet
wasn't sure if she wanted to hear about Tate's darkest thoughts and deepest
secrets. In her head, she was organizing the information she has just
collected. He had been treated before. Many times… and apparently none of that
worked out. His relations with Constance weren't as good as he made them out to
be. "Cocksucker"? What sane person calls their mother that in a casual manner?
But maybe Tate wasn't sane at all. If she was older, if she knew more about
life, all of those new information would make her stomach turn. But they
didn't. Violet felt somehow closer to him now. At last someone who has been
suffering from the very same illness. Someone on whom pills didn't work. Just
like her. She stepped back, unsure on how she really feels, and decided to go
outside and catch some sun. Violet sat down on a low wall, parting between
bushes and their back entrance. It was never used, Ben opened the door once as
he was inspecting the house for the first time. She would sometimes go there
and listen to music or read, because of the location no-one would ever bother
her. She wasn't yet used to California's heat but she liked the burning feeling
sun left on her bare skin. She removed her cardigan and took one cigarette out
of her skirt's pocket. She liked the smell of tobacco mixed with the one of
growing flowers. Making herself comfortable, Violet dangled one of her legs
down the wall and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply. Her cigarette was almost
finished when she heard the steps.
"I used to like this place too," Tate voice was coming from her left. She
opened her eyes to see him standing close by, hands in his pockets, warm smile
on his mouth.
"What are you doing here?" Her stomach tightened. She didn't know if it was
because she wanted to see him or because she was afraid of him. Tate casually
walked to her and sat on the wall. His legs were long enough to touch the
ground.
"I took a walk around the property," he said "haven't had a chance in quite a
while." Violet didn't say anything. She was looking at how his hair appeared
gold in the sun. "I used to live here, you know? We moved when I was like ten."
Violet knew that already, she remembered the conversation Constance had with
her mother.
"Did you move across the street?" Tate nodded his head.
"My mother was not capable of supporting such a huge mansion on her own. She
had to settle for something smaller. Still, she wanted to look at her old home
every day." Violet felt as if Tate talked about whatever just to keep the
conversation going. She wasn't going to make it easy for him.
"So, seeing a shrink, huh?" He was staring at his feet. She bended to see him
better.
"Did you listen?" he mumbled finally. Violet didn't know what to say. Did they
realize that someone was outside the door? "Don't worry, I will not tell your
dad if you did," he added turning towards her. Was he playing with her again?
"No. I didn't. I was here the entire time." Their eyes finally met. Tate
smirked. The nerve of this guy. She was studying him yet again, veins on his
neck, strong figure, muscled arms. Arms. Her stomach turned. She didn't cover
her arms. Violet was about to reach for her cardigan when Tate stopped her. He
had her wrists between his hands. She felt the warmth spreading throughout her
body.
"I have those too," he said, letting go of her and rolling his sleeve. Indeed,
his arm was covered in white scars, barely visible unless you knew what to look
for. "I stopped. This shit is bad. Don't hurt yourself." His voice was full of
care. Where was that jackass of a guy she had been faced with barely a day ago?
She knew that she should be vary, his moods were unpredictable. But she still
remembered how his fingers caressed the delicate skin on her wrist. "Violet,"
he started "I am so sorry for what happened the other night. I swear I didn't
know that you were so young. If I had known I would have never, never touched
you like that." He sounded genuine but if so, why did she feel disappointed?
No. She had to be tough. No hard feelings.
"How old are you anyway?" Tate looked hesitant for a moment.
"25." Almost a decade older. She had predicted that he would be around that
age. Not that it bothered her, actually, she was amazed with her indifference.
They both sat in silence. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.
Violet heard Tate stand up. "I've got to go. My mother hates waiting." She
nodded her head, her eyes still closed. He was still standing there, she felt
his presence. Finally, he started to walk away, his steps echoing against the
walls of the house. Violet opened her eyes to spot him crossing the lawn. She
watched him leave the property. She stood up and slowly made her way into the
house.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Here comes another chapter. I am sorry, I was a bit lazy with
     updating. I hate the formatting process on this site.
     Anyway, next chapter contains something pretty big so I will be sure
     to upload it tomorrow. After that we are on the regular schedule
     (Wednesdays and Saturdays).
     I've introduced a new character. I know that he doesn't appear in the
     show but there was no-one that I could use and who would fit into
     character. Hope you don't mind. :-)
It's been almost a week since Violet last saw Tate. Thoughts of him were
flooding her mind. Deep inside she knew that her deliberations were pointless.
He made it clear that the whole situation had been a mistake. No matter the
obvious, she couldn't help herself. Maybe rules of attraction simply worked
that way? Violet could lie to herself but deep down she knew - she felt
attracted to him. Sure, he was a handsome guy, no surprise here. She bet her
ass that every woman would feel the same after meeting Tate. At the same time
it was clear to her that his looks was only one of the factors. There was much
more to him. His secretive persona was alluring to her. Each time they were
together she felt it heavy in the air, the weight of the unsaid. As for someone
with the obvious weakness for the forbidden, his age also played the role.
Violet was young, she knew that she could have her own secret admiration for
Tate. But she was also pragmatic, probably one of the effects of her sheltered
personality. She would never play out on her desires, she didn't want to taste
the bitterness of refusal. Most of all, she has never imagined herself being
truly close to someone, whether it be emotionally or physically. Not that it
mattered anyway. Violet knew that in time she would move on, forget about her
teenage crush. Didn't we all have an inappropriate infatuation at one point in
our life? So she carried on with her normal life. Home, school, work. Repeat.
Violet actually enjoyed the steady pace of her day to day being. Working at a
vinyl shop provided her with a very needed cash, spending day after day in the
same place gave her a sense of stability. Truth be told, she loved the smell of
that little shop. She loved browsing through countless albums crowded on high
shelves. Even the contact with customers wasn't such a pain in the ass as she
had imagined. She liked to be surrounded by like-minded people. As for school,
it was just that. School. Mindless bitches, stoners, jocks, grey mass. Violet
refrained from them all. She was spending each lunch-break away from the
madding crowd, sitting by the old tree in the back of the school's yard. It was
Friday when Trevor approached her.
"Hey stranger!" he was coming her way with a playful smile on his lips.
"What's good?" Trevor sat down and took a cigarette out of his backpack.
"Not much. The usual stuff, football, girls, you know the drill," he smirked,
his perfect white teeth showing. She and Trevor wouldn't spend much time
together at all but Violet liked his laid-back, no-bullshit approach to things.
He lit his cigarette.
"Me and some of my friends are making a bonfire on the beach tonight. You
should come." Violet wasn't expecting to get an invitation to some social
gathering with Westfield's "most popular" kids. She wasn't outgoing but it
didn't mean that she wouldn't join the fun if given the chance.
"Sure, sounds good. I finish work at 9, tell me where and I'll try to make it."
Trevor was thinking about something, his eyes focused on her face.
"Actually, I was hoping that I could pick you up and we would go together," he
said "If that's okay with you." His cheeks were blushing. She felt flattered
that he had proposed that but she couldn't help herself but play with him a
little bit more.
"I have a car." He looked puzzled at first but soon a smile appeared on his
face.
"No offense but I wouldn't call that old can of yours a car. Take a ride in the
real beast." She laughed, Trevor was a good companion.
"If you say so," said Violet grinning at him. They sat in silence, sun shining
on their faces, warm wind playing with their hair.
===============================================================================
 
She was changing in the staff room when her phone rang. Ben. Shoot, she knew
that her mother wouldn't talk sense into him.
"Hello?" "Violet, I just came home. Your mother told me that you are going out
tonight."
"She told you the truth."
"With whom if I may ask?"
"With friends. Friends from school."
"I don't like it one bit, Vi. You are sixteen, you think it is safe to go god-
knows-where with people you barely know?" She was getting annoyed.
"I have been out with some of them before, came home in one piece. Don't you
trust mom?" She had to play on his feelings, Vivien was trustworthy. He wasn't.
Short silence followed her statement.
"I am sorry, baby. It's just the place is still new to us, I don't know them or
their parents. It was easier in Boston." Make him feel guilty.
"We wouldn't have to leave Boston if it wasn't for you." Ben sighed.
"Make sure you step by and let us know when you are home." He hung up. Jesus,
her father was easily manipulated. Violet wondered how had he even got a job in
the psychiatric field. His patients would outsmart him at every step. She
brushed her hair and checked if she had all of her belongings on her. Saying
goodbyes to her co-worker she spotted Trevor leaning by his car. He gave her a
smile and waved. She stepped out of the shop to a tight hug from him. If he was
her type her heart would flutter right then. But he wasn't. She liked Trevor
but in a friendly, "let's joke about anything" way. They got into the car and
drove off, dust falling behind the car. The music was playing quietly. Violet
was looking out the window, colorful buildings and palms, people walking in
groups and laughing.
"Enjoying L.A.," Trevor asked, his eyes focused on the road.
"Kinda. It is not as bad here as I thought it would be." She turned her face to
him.
"As born and raised resident I can assure you that it is the best place on
earth." Violet chuckled. She liked his enthusiasm, so different from everything
she had been surrounded by. "By the way, the party had already started. There
are some people outside of our school but they are cool."
"Who says what's cool and what's not," she asked, smile playing on her lips.
Trevor laughed.
"I do. I say what's cool and what's not and you better believe me." Violet
leaned against her seat, she could see the ocean in the distance. Trevor turned
the music up and started singing along to some silly pop song. Violet couldn't
contain her laughter. Slowly they made their way up to the beach. "I have to
take some stuff out of the trunk," he said exiting the car. She nodded her head
and focused on the view in front of her. Violet wasn't a huge nature lover but
she had never seen the Pacific before. It was mesmerizing. "Let's go" Trevor
was carrying a box full of beers. She followed him to the quite big group of
people sitting around the fire, talking loudly, and moving rhythmically to the
rap music playing. One of the guys standing just by the barrel full of beer
noticed Trevor and shouted, a loud greeting that caught attention of all the
others. Suddenly everyone was waving and asking them to join the party. Trevor
made his way into the group and put the beers down. He greeted at least 20
every people and Violet was just behind, repeating her name over and over
again. She didn't feel good in a crowd but she knew that soon they would settle
and get something to drink. "Trevor!" some guy in loose trousers and a hoodie
patted her partner on the back.
"Sup man?" then he looked at Violet "Damn, who's the lady?" Violet smirked.
Trevor put a hand on her back and leaned to whisper in her ear.
"See that guy over there, the tall blonde? That's Jamie. He's loud but smartest
of them all. Sit with him, I'll join you in a minute." Violet's eyes focused on
a guy sitting by the two heavily tanned girls with aggressively platinum-blond
her. He was a nice sight, sharp jaw-line, fair hair, blue eyes, he would
definitely be a cheerleader's boyfriend if not for the obvious fact that Jamie
was gay. His attire consisted of grey track-suit pants and a white T-shirt,
Vans on his feet, and a huge Louis Vuitton bag placed strategically on his
knees. Violet chuckled. He didn't seem to give a fuck, she liked that.
Approaching him she overheard part of the conversation he was having with his
neighbor.
"Honey, no. Gaga's performance at VMA's was the best thing that has happened
since Madonna got saggy tits and couldn't flash it at her fans." She sat by
him. Jamie's face turned in her direction. "I haven't met you before, have I?"
She shook her head. "Jamie," he said "but you can refer to me as an 'obnoxious
faggot' just like about everyone in here". He gave her a wide smile. Violet
laughed.
"Violet, call me Violet cause no-one in here knows how to call me since they
haven't seen me before." Jamie flashed his pearly white teeth at her.
"Something to drink?" Violent didn't need to be asked twice. He took a dive
into huge bag of his and passed her a bottle of what seemed to be a champagne.
"That's not Don Perignone but then again, we are not sipping drinks in Ritz's
lounge." She took a sip, bubbles tackling her tongue. Violet looked around and
spotted Trevor talking with one of the jocks she recognized from school. She
took another sip and gave it back to Jamie. He was just putting Marlboro Light
in his mouth but took champagne from her hands and smiled. Violet decided to
roll a cigarette. She was about to lit it when Trevor put a hand on her arm.
"I am sorry, those people simply won't let me go." He handed her a beer and sat
down. Jamie acknowledged his existence with a nod of the head, he was too busy
sipping from his bottle, smoking, and talking loudly to his friends. She and
Trevor exchanged smiles and started drinking steadily from their cans. Cool
breeze from the ocean was caressing their backs. They talked about everything
and nothing, drinking beers and smoking. Trevor wasn't the smartest person she
has come in contact with but he was pleasant, easy, not secretive at all. She
felt at ease, her head dizzy with the alcohol. Trevor stood up saying that he
has "business" to attend and left her with Jamie once again. Violet was
listening to the conversation he was having with the two girls.
"I am literally afraid to even go out anymore," one of them said.
"Seriously, my dad said that he will lock me up in my room if he has to.
Prick," another added. Jamie was waving his cigarette and leaning in to them.
"I've heard that he goes after pretty girls, neither of you has to worry," he
said and Violet chuckled. He turned to her and winked.
"What are you even talking about," she asked. Jamie made big eyes.
"Haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?" Violet was tipsy.
"Girl from our school was murdered two days ago." She was all ears. Violet
liked the creepy.
"What happened," she asked. Jamie moved closer and put a cigarette in her
mouth. He lit it and took a sip of his champagne.
"I don't know if you have been living under the rock for past month but
whatever," he started "Someone is targeting young girls from the area. They go
out and never come back. Two days later you turn on the TV and boom! another
one found dead." He took another sip. "They are all found somewhere around the
town, strangled." Violet took champagne from his hands and poured herself some.
Jamie continued, "They were all normal girls. Pretty enough, but not popular. I
have heard they go to downtown clubs or bars and that's where he targets them."
"How many of them," she asked.
"I don't know. 5, maybe 6. Two from my school. One from yours. Some other
random girls." Violet felt uneasy. She was one of the girls that Jamie was
talking about. She pushed him further.
"Is there anything else to it? Suspects?" He rolled his eyes.
"The only thing I know is that what you get for being a hoe." His comment eased
the atmosphere. Violet laughed. "But seriously," he followed "visiting downtown
L.A. on girl's own is not a smart move anyway." She nodded her head. Violet was
so invested in conversation with Jamie that only then did she realize that
Trevor was not back. She looked around and there he was, standing by the beer
barrel, talking to some pretty girl. Violet felt a string of jealousy, anger
bubbling inside of her. Alcohol completely changed her perception of things.
She was staring at him intensively up to the point when he turned around.
Trevor's eyes focused on her face, a warm smile gracing his lips. She did not
move. He looked puzzled and started making his way back to her, finally
standing right in front of Violet.
"What's up," he asked.
"Drive me home," was her only answer.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     As promised, next chapter. Now we are on the regular schedule.
     Warning: mentions of dominance and agression.
     I see that some people gave me kudos which I am really, really
     grateful for but I want to hear your thoughts! How do you like the
     story so far? Where do you think it's going? Or perhaps where YOU
     would want it to go? Remember that constructive criticism is very
     important for any aspiring writers so don't be afraid to point out
     things that do not resonate with you as a reader. :-)
Violet was mad. One minute she was chatting with Jamie and having a good time,
the other she wanted to punch Trevor in the face. Maybe it was the fact that
she had mixed alcohols or maybe it was something else. She didn't know. Sitting
quietly in his car with closed eyes, Violet was slowly calming down. Trevor was
keeping his sight on the road. He was too afraid to speak although his teenage-
boy mind suggested that it was a good sign, she was jealous about some other
girl. They were driving slowly, street-lights flickering as they were passing
them on their way back. At last, they made it on her street, all houses dark
except for one, Constance's. Black Mustang parked right in front of it.
Suddenly all the feelings came flooding back. Trevor parked on the street, the
engine still running. Violet slowly made it out of the 's when she saw him,
standing in the door, dressed in black T-shirt and faded jeans. Her drunken her
state was telling her to do something, it was telling her to get his attention.
She walked to the Trevor's door and knocked on the glass for him to open the
window. Just as he did, she slowly leaned inside and placed a tender kiss on
his temple. Trevor was surprised, his face blushing deep red. She slowly backed
up and saw Tate staring at her intensively, his eyes piercing her head. That's
when Trevor put his arm outside the window and caught her hand. She reacted to
the gesture with a smile.
"Thanks for the good time," she said.
"I will see you at school, Violet". He let go of her and put his hands on the
steering wheel. Backing up he waved at Violet, her eyes following his car till
it disappeared in the night. As she was standing alone in front of her house
she suddenly didn't want to be faced with Tate. She also didn't want to go home
just yet, she was too drunk, the noise would wake up her parents. Violet
decided to stay in the garden and spend some time on the wall, sobering. She
was almost there when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around to see
Tate, quickly passing their property. Violet didn't move. He was staring at
her, his eyes full of rage. He gripped her arms.
"What the fuck do you think you are…" he stopped her with his own words.
"What the fuck are you doing, Violet?" Once again, she was dumbfounded. Who was
he to corner and question her?
"Who are you to demand answers," she spat, her words giving more fire to
flickers in his eyes. Tate tightened his grip on her, it was nearly painful.
"It is the middle of the night, you are drunk, you come home with some…"
"Some who?" She didn't give him a chance to answer "Why is that any of your
business?" "I worry about you," said Tate, his voice softer as well as his
grip. "Let go off me." He was staring at her, weight of his vision nearly
impossible to bear. Slowly, he backed off. Violet reached for a cigarette.
Before she could find her lighter he was already offering her fire. She inhaled
deeply, smoke circling her lungs just to be exhaled straight onto his face.
"Stop playing games with me," he said, anger easily detectable in his voice.
She liked how low it seemed when he was mad, almost a purr.
"Stop playing games with me," she repeated after him. He took a step closer,
his intentions unclear. Her only defense was to attack. She took a step toward
him, one of her hands holding the cigarette, the other slowly making its way up
his arm. Tate was burning. She softly caressed him, her slim flingers making
circles on his skin. He was observing her, eyes half-closed. She put her hand
higher, touching his arm, slowly moving closer to his collarbone. Finally, she
put her hand on his neck. The blood pumping under his skin made her shiver. He
opened his eyes. Violet stepped on her toes, her mouth so close to his she
could feel him breath.
"Stop," Tate's voice was demanding. How far could she push him? Violet put a
cigarette to her mouth and blew the smoke directly into his. He inhaled deeply,
his eyes dark with lust. Before she knew it he had his hand around her neck,
tight. Fear made its way onto her face. "I could break you in half," he said,
putting his other hand on her back. Tate was strong and he was right. He could
break her in half. He could kill her there and then if he wanted. She
swallowed, the situation shouldn't of made her so aroused. If she wasn't drunk
she would scream, and kick, and bite. Instead she dropped the cigarette and put
her hand in his hair. She pulled onto him, hard. Tate had enough of the games.
He tightened his grip enough to make her gag and then pressed his mouth against
hers. Warmth spread throughout her body. But she was afraid, afraid of what he
was capable off. She jerked her head back. Tate let go of her neck, placing his
hands on her back instead. There was no escape but somehow arousal mixed with
fear gave her a kick. She wanted to play with fire. Violet pressed her lips
against his, rough, her hands in his hair. He pushed her against the wall.
"Open your mouth," he said, his voice low and raspy. Her mind was not working
at the same speed as her body. He gripped her neck once again. "Open. your.
mouth," he hissed into her ear. She gave up. Tate's sinister smile made her
stomach tighten. He leaned closer and his tongue found its way into her mouth.
She could taste him, the cigarettes, distinctive taste of something sweet,
something she couldn't quite put her finger on. His lips were chapped and
rough, the factor only making her obvious arousal stronger. She put her hands
on his back, taking him in, letting him explore her mouth. Violet has never
kissed anyone, the feeling strangely pleasant. There was something extremely
erotic about the way he played with her tongue, his teeth against her mouth.
Her hands were traveling up and down his back, nails digging into his skin. He
moaned in her mouth, the feeling making Violet shiver. Tate broke off the kiss
and placed his hands on her waist. He was looking straight into her eyes as he
lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapping around his hips. She was breathing
heavily. Tate placed a wet kiss on her mouth, their tongues barely meeting.
Then on the corner of her mouth. On her chin, slowly making his way down her
neck. Each contact of his mouth with her skin was leaving a burning mark. He
rolled his tongue against her collarbone, finally settling on the base of her
neck. He sucked on the delicate skin, pushing Violet to cry out, whether it was
from the pain or the pleasure. She felt him hard between her legs. She wanted
more. She wanted him inside, wanted him to tear her open. She wanted to be
tainted by him. She lowered her hands to his stomach.
"Violet," his voice was low "Stop". Violet looked puzzled. She wanted to ask
him why but words were stuck in her throat. He slowly put her down, not looking
in her eyes this time. "I can't," he said "We can't." She was still drunk,
drunk of alcohol, drunk of him.
"Why? Why can't we?" Tate took a step back. She looked so small, so vulnerable.
Her neck was covered with purple marks, her mouth chapped and swollen from
their kisses. If not for the self-disgust that was crippling inside of him he
would feel an animalistic pride. Violet looked him in the eyes, her own ones
teary, she was clearly holding it back. Tate's heart clenched. She was so
young, so pure. He wanted to protect her from all the bad in the world but
instead he was the one tainting her with the evil. She was depressed, looking
for someone similar, Tate knew the feeling too well. But he also knew that she
wasn't a lost cause. He was. He had been a lost cause since the very beginning.
She had a whole life ahead of her, the ups and downs but she would make it in
the end. Violet was strong. He wasn't. The fact that his actions brought him to
this very point was enough of the proof. Tate put his arms around her, holding
her close. In the rare moments of his mind's complete clarity he felt as if he
could just walk away, leave her, and never look back. Not because he wouldn't
want to but because this could save her. But most of the time it was voices and
sinister urges, illogical actions and anger. Tate knew that it was illegal, he
knew that he should push her away and make her hate him but the feeling of her
body in his arms was too good. She was too good for this filthy world they were
living in.
"Violet," he whispered "believe me, I want you. Heaven help me I want you so
bad."
"We should go inside," she said and held his hand as they made their way into
the house.
===============================================================================
 
Tate felt uneasy entering her room.
"Are you sure that you want me here?" She turned around to look at him. He
seemed so lost.
"I wouldn't invite you in if I didn't want to." Her pragmatic self was slowly
replacing the little, drunk girl. Tate walked in and sat on the bed. The smell
of Violet was overwhelming, he could feel it on the pillows and in the sheets.
She didn't mind his presence and started to undress, first went the shoes,
later the skirt and thighs. Tate was observing her, his eyes following every
move of the girl in front of him. She was so delicate, her skin so pale, he
could spot all the veins underneath. His hands suddenly in fists, he wanted to
take her so badly. He could almost imagine all the sounds she would make with
his hands around her throat. Violet was a virgin and they get wet so easily.
"Tate?" her voice posing a question. She approached him and before he knew she
was sitting on his knees, her bare thighs against his clothed ones. Violet put
her skinny arms around Tate's neck, her cheek against his cheek. His surprise
was quickly replaced with the feeling of complete calmness. Violet was so
different from everything that he had known. He put his arms around her,
holding her so close, so tight. Tate would say that he is crazy about Violet if
not for the fact that he already was. He held her still and turned them around
so they were now lying face to face, her thigh on his own, their arms still
around each other. Violet put her hand on his face, caressing the skin,
examining the features. Tate was looking deep into her eyes, big and curious.
He smiled, his dimples showing. She smiled too.
"I like you, Tate," she said and turned around, her back against his chest.
Violet was slowly falling asleep, her breathing steadier and quieter with every
inhale. Tate cuddled his face into her hair, intoxicating smell filling his
nostrils. He was listening to her breathing, her chest slowly rising and
falling until he himself drifted off to sleep, holding her as close as he
could.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     I am really sorry for the delay! Couldn't get my hands on the
     computer yesterday. Hope you enjoy!
     Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm. Triggering
     content is under the last cut.
Violet woke up pissed. Her head was pounding, every crack of the old house a
torture. She covered her face with a pillow and turned around. Tate wasn't
there. She sat down way too quickly, her vision blurred. Violet's first
reaction was fear. What if Vivien or Ben noticed him leave? No, no chance. Tate
was too smart for this. He must had left somehow early, way before anyone woke
up. She eased into the pillows. What started as an easy night-out with Trevor
quickly turned into a rollercoaster of emotions. Violet didn't feel
embarrassed, she didn't feel guilty either. Her yesterday self was simply lured
to him because of alcohol. Encounter with Tate was a one-time thing, he
probably thought the same. That was only a kiss, hardly a big deal. At least
that's how she justified it. But if so, why did the thought of him made her
stomach clench? She remembered how his arms tightened around her, his strong
body close, his mouth on her own. Violet recalled how he grabbed and pushed
her, taking breath away from her lungs. She could feel him under her fingers,
the way she held onto him, nails digging into his skin. Her body reacted to
those memories with obvious arousal, material slick between her legs, but her
mind was telling her something different. Tate was unpredictable. More than
that, he was dangerous. She saw it clearly last night. It is as if he hadn't
known whether he had wanted to fuck her or strangle her with his bare hands.
There was a slim line between arousal and fear when it came to Tate. Violet
enjoyed the ride but at the same time she was fearing for herself.
Paradoxically, the thing that was the most dangerous was also the most
attractive. She didn't know how to go about this, should she avoid him now or
should she pursue something more? She stood up, sheets falling behind her, and
went into the bathroom. Violet didn't have to make any decisions yet.
===============================================================================
 
She was sitting on a stool, chatting with Vivien when they heard a knock on the
door. Were they expecting any guests? Her mother walked to the hall just to
greet someone kindly. Violet didn't hear any words so she slowly made her way
to the kitchen door.
"Ben is normally never late, he must be stuck in a traffic or something,"
Vivien's voice was warm "Why won't you come in and wait for him with us?"
"That's okay Mrs. Harmon, I can wait in his office." Tate. Violet stopped
breathing for a moment. Saturday. Today is a Saturday, the day of his visit.
This was going to be awkward as hell.
"I insist," her mother said "come with me." Violet didn't know whether Vivien
was inviting him in because she had no idea how dangerous Ben's patients can be
or because she knew for a fact that it is better to keep an eye for them.
"Violet," her mother said walking through the door "That's Tate." He was just
behind her, looking somehow different than usual. His regular black attire was
replaced by old, yellow cardigan and baggy jeans. Tate looked like a lost, sad
teenager. Violet started to wonder whether he was dressing this way on purpose
when coming to visit Ben.
"Tate," he said, giving her hand. He was smiling, dimples showing.
"Violet," she answered. His hand was cold, ice-cold. Had it always been like
this? If so, she had never noticed. He sat down.
"Coffee, tea," asked Vivien, hands in her pockets. She was observing both him
and Violet.
"I will have a glass of water, thank you." He not once looked at her mother,
his eyes focused on Violet the entire time. Tate seemed at ease. Actually, he
looked as if he was sincerely happy to see Violet, no mean-looks, no
awkwardness. She felt weird. She expected him to feel bad about last night.
After all, it was him who ended things between them so abruptly. They were
sitting in silence, tension in the air. Vivien didn't even try to make a small-
talk. She must have sensed that something is going on. Loud bang of the door
interrupted the weird state they were in. Ben walked into the kitchen, his
usual jolly-self was replaced with discontent as soon as he spotted Tate.
"I am sorry for the delay. Tate, please, follow me to the office," he said, his
voice cold. He wasn't happy that one of his patients was sitting with his wife
and daughter. He gave Vivien an angry look. Tate nodded his head and stood up,
his movements quiet. Violet was looking at her hands, not wanting eye-contact
with anyone present. As the men left she was ready to jump off her stool and
leave when Vivien stopped her.
"Do you know him?" Her mother didn't sound mad or weirded-out. She sounded
concerned, as if she knew that something was off but couldn't quite put her
finger on it. Violet was thinking how to avoid questioning. She didn't want for
Vivien to feel worried but she didn't want for her to know about Violet's
whereabouts.
"I mean, he is Constance's son. I've seen him around." She looked her straight
into the eyes. "He sometimes comes over, I don't think he lives with her
anymore." Vivien was tapping her fingers on the counter. She looked absent,
thinking hard about something.
"Have you two been introduced before?"
"Not really. I saw him talking to Constance, they waved at me, I waved at them.
You know, the usual neighbor stuff." Lying came so easy to Violet, she was
surprised with herself. Vivien gave her a small smile.
"Right. I think I've seen him around too." Her voice was quiet. "Anyway, I need
to catch some sun," she added "Want to join me?" Violet didn't want to. She had
something else on her mind, the need that she could fulfill only by staying
indoors. She shook her head and stood up. Vivien opened the fridge to grab some
water and waved her goodbye. She was out the door at the same time when Violet
started climbing the stairs. As soon as the door closed behind Vivien she was
once again making her way downstairs. Desire to listen to Tate's conversation
with her father was strong even though the last time she had heard a lot of
unsettling things. Violet slowly made her way to the door, they were slightly
opened, a crack big enough to see Tate sitting in a big armchair and Ben seated
on the couch.
"Can you describe those visions to me?" her father's voice was calm. Tate was
looking at his shoes when he started to speak
. "It always starts the same. We are together. I hold her close. She puts her
arm around my neck. I lay her down and we start to kiss, she is so willing," he
stopped. His eyes lifted to Ben's face. "And then I put my hand around her
neck, gently at first. She likes it. I look into her eyes and I feel the need
to do it stronger. I put my other hand on her neck. I get this strong urge. The
urge to tighten my hands around her neck till she stops breathing. So I do. She
is fighting me at first but she knows she stands no chance. I hold her down and
wait for her face to turn blue. When it does I let go. At this point she is
already knocked-off. I look at her features, she is so beautiful. And then I
put my hands around her neck again to finish what I had started." His gruesome
statement was followed by silence. Ben was scribbling something in his
notebook. Violet felt sick to her stomach.
"Do these thoughts have therapeutic effect on you?" her father was asking
questions again, his voice as calm as it had been.
"They do," the answer was quick. "
Why are they therapeutic, Tate?"
"I like knowing that she is in the better place." His voice was soft.
"What's the better place?" Ben was trying to get deeper, the usual practice
that Violet knew well. She had been to the therapy before.
"Anywhere but here," said Tate "The world we are living in is a filthy place."
Ben started to write something down again. Tate was observing his face, waiting
for the reaction.
"So you are saving her?" Her father's voice was emotionless, it sounded as if
he had heard similar things a thousand times before.
"Yeah. I am saving her." Violet's heart was beating fast, her sick curiosity
made her listen to something that she hadn't had intention of knowing.
"Why are you so concerned with these visions all of the sudden?" Tate lifted
his head and looked Violet straight into eyes. He smiled lightly.
"Because I've met someone." Her heart stopped. Did he know that she had been
listening to them from the very beginning? Why had he wanted for her to know
all of this? Violet stepped back and put her back against the wall. Her head
was spinning, she didn't know what to think. Did he feel serious about her? If
so, why would he talk about those things? It was too much even for her. She
felt uneasy, her mind full of contradictory thoughts. Violet felt drawn to Tate
but now that she had heard of his darkest thoughts, the memory of his strong
hands around her neck made her shiver. Violet knew only one way to deal with
those emotions.
===============================================================================
 
She was standing in front of the big mirror in her bathroom. Her hand steady,
she was slicing her skin with surgical precision. One clean cut after another,
she liked how the wounds burned. Any other time she would stop after two cuts
but not today. She rolled the sleeve of her dress higher and put a cold razor
against her arm. Applying enough pressure Violet slid it slowly, mark appearing
on her pale skin. It was deep enough to bleed, the fluid making its way down
her hand to drop slowly on the grey tiles of the bathroom floor. She watched it
mesmerized. Funny how drawing blood could make her feel so pure.
"Violet," she dropped her razor in surprise before she realized who was
standing in the door. Tate was staring at her, concern visible on his face. He
slowly approached her, his eyes focused on Violet's arm. "Why are you hurting
yourself?" he sounded worried but in a weirdly possessive way. He grabbed her
hand to see the marks up close. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, the
warm feeling spreading throughout her insides. It was too much for Violet,
their relation was fucked-up.
"Stop!" she shouted, her arms shaking. She quickly rolled down the sleeves.
"What are you even doing here?" Violet was annoyed. He took a step back, his
eyes darkening.
"I wanted to check on you," he said, madness making its way into his voice "You
know what? If you want to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that
up." Tate turned around and left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam.
Violet was standing there speechless. In that moment she hated him deeply, the
way he toyed with her, played on her emotions. But she hated herself even more
for still reacting to his touch, her body wanting him so badly. If she couldn't
get him off her system with cutting she would deal with it differently. Violet
locked the door and turned the shower on, taking her clothes off. She moved the
curtain and stepped into the bath, hot water covering her body. As soon as her
muscles relaxed she slid her hand down her body, between her legs, to the place
no one has yet explored. Violet was touching herself slowly, her fingers
sliding inside to the feeling of complete and utter hotness. Her mind drifted
off to Tate, his strong arms around her. She was uttering the words he had
purred just before they kissed. Her hand was moving faster and faster as she
started to think all of the dirty, disgusting things he could do to her. He
could push her on the bed, spreading her legs against her obvious refusal,
making his way into her body with a strong thrust and then he would put his
hands around her throat, tightening them and… Violet came strong around her
fingers, her scream silenced by pouring water. After she came back to her
senses she grabbed shampoo and poured some on her hands. Massaging it into her
hair, a smile was playing on her lips. For a short moment Violet felt free.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! Here's next chapter, hope you enjoy (and sorry to leave you
     hanging like this). :-)
     Important info: I've decided to update once a week. I've landed a
     full-time job, working 6 days a week, and I simply don't have time to
     update as often. All updates will be posted on Sundays. Don't worry,
     I am not skipping this week, you will get another update.
 
 
 
Violet's situation with Tate was messing with her head. Nothing good ever came
out of their encounters, nothing good ever came out of her listening to his
therapy sessions. She was either feeling either lost or mad and those emontions
resulted in abnormal for her frequency of cutting. Violet decided to smother
her desires. That was the sole reason why she agreed to go on a date with
Trevor. A real date. He wanted to take her out big time, movie, dinner,
whatever else he had so carefully planned. When the day came she was ready at 9
P.M. sharp, after work, standing on the street and smoking a cigarette. She
didn't want Trevor to meet her parents. She didn't want to introduce him and go
through awkward chit-chat with Ben. Violet wanted to run away from Tate. So
when Trevor showed up she put on her best smile and accepted his greeting of a
warm, wet kiss on the cheek.
===============================================================================
They arrived at her house after a nice evening of sitting on the beach, eating,
and drinking some bitter wine that her companion had stolen from his father. If
Violet was anything close to romantic she would be flattered that he had tried
so hard.
"So… thanks for the date," she said as silence fell between the two of them
"No, I want to thank you for going out with me," he was such a heart-throb. She
smirked. It was nice to get away, spend time with someone as easy-going as him.
Trevor was your typical good guy from a good home. Charming, chivalrous, and
witty to top it all. Violet thought warmly of him. She didn't seem him in terms
of a relationship but he was nice nevertheless. She was about to exit the car
when he leaned closer, close enough for her to feel his breathing. He was
looking into her eyes with hope… hope mixed with fear perhaps? Violet didn't
truly feel like kissing him. No fluttering in her chest, her breathing not
ragged but she let him move closer and put his mouth on her. It was warm and
delicate, soft brush of his lips against hers. She didn't feel sparkles flying
but still wanted to take it a step further. She wanted to see if, maybe, an
open-mouthed kiss would make her feel like kissing Tate felt. Violet put her
hand on Trevor's arm and drew him closer, their mouth meeting again. This time
the kiss was different, no time wasted. Their tongues met and he pulled her
even closer. It felt good enough but deep inside he just knew - it wasn't it.
Violet broke the kiss with a soft stroke on his cheek. Trevor was smiling,
almost giggling. For someone who had had "so much experience" the reaction felt
odd. She returned the smile and opened the car door, saying her goodbyes. He
waved at her and started the engine, driving off as she was entering her house.
===============================================================================
Violet was lying on the couch in the living room, her legs dangling from the
side of the couch, when Ben entered the room. She almost rolled her eyes at the
thought of conversation with her father. He walked to the alcohol counter,
newspaper in one hand and glass in the other. Ben took a whisky bottle and
poured him some. Then he turned around and sat in the armchair in front of her.
He cleared his throat.
"How was your date last night?" So Vivien told him. Great. She was supposed to
lie about going out with friends.
"Good."
"Where did you go?" Why did he always feel a need to question her?
"The beach." She hoped that the one-liners would stop him from investigating
any further. Indeed, he was quiet for a moment.
"Can I read you something?" Violet sat up.
"Sure, why not," her voice was full of sarcasm. She crossed her arms. Ben was
playing with his glass, newspaper open at his knees.
"Is your daughter next?" he exclaimed, his voice serious. "Another high-school
student was found dead last Thursday," he cleared his throat again "The young
woman was spotted in a ditch by a group of passers-by. According to police
reports, she had been strangled as all previous victims. Post-mortem
examination revealed that not long before her death she had engaged in a sexual
intercourse, another trait shared by all the murdered women." Ben took a sip
out of his glass. "All victims were no older than 18, indicating that the
killer is targeting only high-school female population." He took another sip.
"Investigation was initiated after the body of first victim had been found a
month ago and is still ongoing."
"And?" Violet asked "Do you think that my date is a serial killer?" Ben gave
her a patronizing look.
"It is not a laughing matter, Violet." She rolled her eyes.
"I don't understand why we are having this conversation now." She truly didn't.
She wasn't stupid. Violet felt uneasy when talking about it with Jamie that
time, but according to the article those girls were willing to leave with the
killer. They had sex with him for heaven's sake.
"We are having this conversation because I am worried about you." She was
quiet. "You are a young woman, going wherever you want, whenever you feel like
it."
"I never leave without telling mom." She was getting annoyed with him. "Anyway,
I don't know why can't you just trust me one time" Violet must have hit a right
spot because Ben's face changed. He put his newspaper and glass down.
"Violet, I trust you. I just want you to be safe, that's all." His voice was
softer now.
"Good," she said "Cause I have nothing to hide." That couldn't have been
further from the truth.
===============================================================================
She was laying in bed after a long day of work when the idea crossed her mind.
She should go out. Violet realized that she hadn't been left alone anymore.
Surrounded by people in school and at work, cornered by her parents on any
other occasion. She felt as the freedom she had dreamed of just a few weeks ago
was slowly fading away. She felt caged, forced to do things expected of her.
After she pushed Tate away her static way of living became even more annoying.
Violet was doing everything to cleanse her mind from thoughts of him and she
was failing miserably every other night, masturbating aggressively to could
have beens of their encounter. Tate had become yet another thing that she was
fighting with but for what?
"Maybe for the fear of my own sanity," the voice in her head was mocking her.
She was slowly realizing that even though she believed herself to be fierce and
fearless, she was losing herself in the thing she despised the most – control.
Violet stood up and lit a cigarette. She would sneak out tonight. She could go
to that dirty little bar and spot Tate in the crowd and if she did…The thrill
of the forbidden washed over her. Her pragmatic side had to be quiet tonight,
no fear. No fear of rejection. Violet dropped the cigarette out the window and
took off her sleeping pants. She put on a pair of black thighs and a burgundy
dress, her favorite cardigan on her back. Brushing her hair and knotting them
into a high pony-tail she was walking impatiently around her room. She had to
leave without waking-up her parents. Violet quietly made her way downstairs,
door of their bedroom cracked open. Go in, close the window, go out. Good for
her that the room was facing the garden. She entered slowly, the place lit only
by the moon. Ben was sleeping with his back to her, his arms around Vivien.
Violet moved to the window aware of the every little noise her steps were
making. She closed it as quietly as possible when her father moved abruptly.
She instantly fell on her knees hoping that he wouldn't see her figure between
the curtains. Every second that passed made her adrenaline levels go higher and
higher. With Ben's snore she crawled out of their room and quietly closed the
door behind her. Violet quickly made her way downstairs and to the car. She
started the engine and drove off into the night.
===============================================================================
As she entered the bar she instantly spotted Tom. He noticed her too. Big smile
graced his face. She approached the bar quickly and sat on the stool just to be
given the drink straight away.
"That's on me," Tom said "Haven't seen ya in a while." Violet took a sip from
her glass.
"Yeah, life and stuff, you know. Couldn't make it. But I am here now." She
smiled. Violet felt excited even though she didn't have a clear reason. She
acted on her impulses and came all the way down here without a plan. The bar
was crowded, full of teenage bodies rubbing on each other. Violet spotted some
familiar faces. Not that these people were her friends but she had met them at
the bonfire. She started to wonder if Trevor was here as well, meeting him
wouldn't be ideal in her mind. Violet ordered another drink. And another.
Finally she decided to dance, the music was terrible but she didn't care. She
let herself be carried from one arms to another, her body sweaty from being in
the crowd. Violet felt as in a dream. Calm. Waves of people, someone's hands
around her waist. Suddenly, the feeling of uneasiness washed over her. She felt
someone's eyes piercing her face. Violet opened her eyes to see Tate, in all
his grace, making his way through the crowd. Now she was excited, dizziness in
her head strengthening the feeling. None of them said a word when he was
pulling her closer, strong body against her own. His hands were on Violet's
back, her head at the base of his neck. They were so close, his arms tight
around her, she wanted to touch his bare skin so badly. She lifted her head and
looked into his eyes, normally observant, they were now full of lust. Violet
could almost sense his desire. She tightened her hands around his arms and
stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips. And when she did she felt as if nothing
really mattered anymore, as if she was to get lost in the feeling. He held back
of her head as he deepened the kiss, Violet wanted to howl. All the walls that
she had built around her were falling and she felt stupid for ever avoiding
him. This something between them had felt so good and so right, common sense
went off her head. Tate stopped the kiss, caught in some thought, but Violet
was in too deep. She pulled his hair to lower his face and brought their lips
together yet again. She opened his mouth with her tongue, insisting on taking
thing step further. His hand slid down her body to settle on the roundness of
her ass, gripping her hard. He broke to kiss again but his mouth found their
way to her ear.
"We should leave," his voice was low. She instantly nodded her head. Tate
backed up and smiled, his dimples showing. He took her hand as they were making
their way out of the crowd. Before they left Violet caught the glimpse of Tom's
face. He was standing behind the bar, his eyes full of fear. The situation was
too far gone for Violet to stop and think. She was leaving with Tate and
nothing could stop her.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! I am sorry for how short this chapter is. I simply didn't want to
     put two important events one after another. :-)
     Also, sorry if it's not what you expected. I know where this story is
     going and I promise you that it won't get fluffy after this.
     Enjoy!
Tate lived in Marina Del Rey. Violet had heard of the place before but never
had a chance to travel to this part of town. They parked in front of new
apartment-building. Tate was opening her door before she could reach for the
knob. He took her hand and they made their way inside, every step filling her
with more and more anxiety. Did she really want it? Tate was searching his
pockets for a key as Violet was pacing around impatiently.
"Are you okay?" his voice was quiet. She didn't know if she was okay. She felt
excited but the excitement was mixed with fear. Violet nodded her head. Tate
gave her a small smile and opened the door. He switched on the light as he was
kicking off his shoes. His place was surprisingly clean, he never seemed to be
put together so it was a surprise. A big enough studio, grey walls, dark
furniture. Sofa was a provisional parting between two sides of the room. On one
- a bed and wardrobe, the other book-shelves, desk and kitchen counters. Big
window was covering the wall facing the marina. He had surprisingly small
amount of personal belongings, even if she wanted to get to know him better –
the place was not helping.
"Anything to drink?" his voice interrupted her thoughts. Somehow she couldn't
find words, the situation was completely new to her. Violet didn't know what
was going to happen. Would they sit and talk? Listen to the music? Fuck? Why
did she come here in the first place?
"Coke? Beer? I have some wine but I can't guarantee it's any good," he was
smirking.
"Coke sounds good," she said and walked over to the sofa. Violet had had enough
of the alcohol, she didn't want to face him drunk yet again. He took two cans
and joined her, making himself comfortable. She hesitantly took a sip. Tate
laughed.
"If I wanted to add something to your drink, I would make sure you are not
suspecting." His statement made her giggle. Violet started to feel more at
ease.
"Your place is cool." She didn't know what to talk about but she did want to
talk to him. Tate looked around and shrugged.
"I don't think so," he gave her a small smile "I don't like to be surrounded
with stuff, you know? I can't focus in crowded spaces."
"Why do you go to crowded bars then?" Violet finally found herself - hit where
it stings. His smile now turned sinister.
"To pick women." Tate's statement made her stomach turn. Any other time, Violet
wouldn't be fazed with stuff like that. She didn't care to be the one. She
didn't care to be anyone's truth be told. Somehow, with him it was different.
He leaned in closer and took her hand.
"Violet, I am just joking," Tate's voice was full of concern "I, too, like to
drink sometimes. It doesn't feel so strange and lonely when I am surrounded by
people." Violet turned her face to look at him. He suddenly looked so small and
vulnerable. The atmosphere changed. Half an hour ago they were getting it on
around strangers, now they were sitting in his apartment, holding hands, and
looking into each-other's eyes. What a cliché. "I care about you," he said
finally. Tate was now holding her hand in both of his. His face was so close.
Violet tried to stop herself from pressing her lips against his. Refrain.
"You don't know me," she stated. Any sign of concern over her person was always
met with hostility. She didn't know how to react.
"I do. I know more about you than you think, Violet." He sounded sincere. Warm.
It filled her with something she had never felt before. Violet almost felt as
if she could trust him.
"So you were following me after all?" Her comment made him laugh. She laughed
too. Funny how comfortable she felt with him. Her gut feeling was right after
all, she was running away, fighting with him for no reason at all. Tate was
still holding her hand, his thumb caressing the skin.
"I don't need to follow you," his voice soft "you are just like me." Violet was
well aware that there were some things connecting them. Tate had cut in the
past, he suffered from mental disorder. He was her equal in any discussion they
had. Sarcasm and wit were the things she admired in other people. Her closest
family lacked them. Still, she wanted to question him further. Violet was
curious. She was curious about many things and each time she would take time to
look for clues, listen, and research.
"How are we similar?" She smirked. Tate took no time to think of his answer.
"I see myself in you. Quiet. Distant. But there's so much intelligence behind
the facade you build. Curiosity. Eagerness to learn, to know" He was listing
one thing after another as if he had ready-made list of qualities he himself
owned. Violet was struck with realization that Tate indeed was a great
observer. Smart, observant, and curious. If they really were so alike then he
really must had been great at manipulating people. "I don't really pay
attention to anyone, Violet," he continued "I don't really care for people but
somehow I care for you. You are so different from everything that I have ever
known." He let go off his hand and put his own on the back of her neck,
caressing her slowly. For the first time in her life, Violet welcomed such a
gesture. It was warm and caring as if they had known each other forever. As if
he was genuine in what he was saying. Violet felt as if she could really get to
know Tate. Not to know about him but to know him.
"I like you," she said. Her cheeks blushed slightly. She had a foggy memory of
saying that already sometime in the past but this time she was fully aware of
her emotions. Her words were sincere. Tate smiled warmly, his dimples showing.
He moved his hand higher to softly turn her head in his direction and then
placed a kiss on her lips. It wasn't mad. It wasn't persistent either, a gentle
brush of his lips against her own.
"Will you go out with me?" He mumbled against her mouth. One time he would grip
and push her against the wall, the other he would play a gentleman and ask her
on a date.
"I am with you now," she teased him.
"Sometimes my emotions take the best of me but I don't want to use you. I want
this to be proper," he said "Don't make me beg." There was something erotic in
the way he talked about begging. Violet was tempted to push it but in all
honesty - she wanted to go out with Tate.
"Begging sounds nice but I'll do without." Her way of saying yes made him laugh
yet again.
===============================================================================
If not for the fact that she had sneaked out of her house, she would stay with
him and talk, listen to music, or anything else really. But she knew that it
was in her best interest to get back before Ben wakes up. As much as Violet
enjoyed the time they had spend together, it would be a novice mistake to get
caught and be under even bigger jurisdiction of her father. Tate drove her to
the bar's parking lot, music playing quietly as their made their way beneath
the awakening sun. Normally, she would stare out of the window, caught in her
own thoughts, but now her eyes were on him. Tate was focused on the street, not
giving her a glance, but his face was graced with a smile, the one that
screamed of approval. When they arrived he once again opened the door for her,
a real gentleman, except for the times when he would grip and push. Violet
smirked. She didn't expect him to walk her to her car, she was not big on kind
gestures, but this one made her feel as if she was cared for. Not that Ben and
Vivien didn't care for her, they did but in a way that she couldn't approve of.
With Tate it seemed as he was caring about her unconditionally, not expecting
anything in return. He waited for Violet to find a keys and open the door. When
she got into the car he lowered himself so their faces were now on the same
level.
"I will pick you up tomorrow," he started "We don't want Ben to know. Say you
are going out with friends, they are picking you up but you have to walk a few
blocks. I will be waiting." With his last words he placed a kiss on her
forehead. She returned the small act of affection with a slow caress of his
neck.
"I will see you tomorrow." He backed off and closed the door quietly. Violet
could see him standing by his car as she was driving off.
===============================================================================
She made it into her bedroom quietly, undressed, and lit a cigarette. After all
that had happened, her view on things changed. Violet finally admitted to
herself that she wanted to spend time with Tate. She didn't only want to lurk
in the shadows and listen. Funny how things change. Violet had never seen
herself as someone emotional, a person to let someone close. She was struck by
a strange feeling of pride - he would still try to get close to her, after all
the times she had pushed him away. She used to think that he was appealing, but
in an odd way. All it took was a few warm gestures, a sense of intimacy. These
things were always there, against his somehow terrifying actions, he was just a
man, perhaps a little lost but still. Someone similar to her, an outsider with
attraction to the darkness, person battling his own monsters. She would never
be the one to let her judgment be clouded, so it wasn't a case. Violet finally
understood that she liked him because of his two, completely different, sides.
Tate was unpredictable but it was only making him more interesting in her eyes.
His behavior was destructive and so was her attraction to him, Violet
understood it perfectly. Yet, desire to let loose, to experiment, to do things
against wishes of the average people, was out-weighting her sane judgment.
Their mutual attraction was wrong but, to both of them, it felt exactly right.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! This is the longest chapter as of now. I've decided that since
     you are getting updates only once a week, I gotta make the wait worth
     it. Hope you enjoy!
"Mom?" Violet's voice echoed against the walls of the house. She entered the
kitchen to spot Vivien mixing something in a big bowl. She raised her head and
gave her daughter a wide smile, patting the stool next to her.
"Sit and talk with me." Violet had to break the news of her going out that
night. She was panting to leave already, excitement running through her body.
"How's school? How's work?" Vivien was asking one question after another, which
made Violet realize that they hadn't had a one on one talk in a while.
"Good. The usual." Try as she might, she couldn't get rid off the vagueness.
"Nothing interesting happening? What about that boy?" For a moment Violet stood
in her tracks, thinking that Vivien had somehow found out about Tate, but she
quickly realized that Trevor was the person of the interest. Truth be told, she
hadn't seen him in quite a while. After that date he called her once, but she
pretended to be busy with unspecified "stuff". Deep inside, she cared for that
boy and didn't want to hurt him, but it just wasn't meant to be.
"Actually, I am going to see him now," she started "Along with some other
people." Vivien gave her a questioning stare.
"You never told me you had plans." Violet didn't expect her mother to question
rather frank sounding statement.
"I didn't have plans. He texted me today to invite me out."
"Let's say I believe you," her feature's eased a bit "But I hope that he will
drive you home after."
"He will," Violet gave Vivien a quick smile and walked to the door "I will see
you later." All conversations with her parents were uncomfortable. If she tried
to be herself, they were scalding her for it. If she distanced herself, they
were unhappy that she is so sheltered. Violet took a deep breath and made her
way down the street. Her and Tate didn't agree on a certain spot but she knew
that he would be waiting somewhere close-by. Sure enough, he was parked about a
block away. As if he knew that Violet was approaching, he stepped out the car
and turned around to greet her. She didn't know what to expect so his tight hug
around her was a pleasant surprise. Violet's face landed on his chest, he was a
good feet taller than her.
"You smell nice," he mumbled in her hair.
"You smell like laundry detergent," she said, her nose against his shirt. Tate
laughed and backed off to look at her. His curls were a mess, it looked as if
he was running his hands through his hair a dozen of times. With his pale skin
and dimples that presented themselves with every smile, he looked nearly
angelic. If not for the fact that Violet had seen his other part, she would be
sure that he was one of those boring, beautiful boys that pretended to write
poetry and stared at themselves in a mirror twenty times a day. Tate opened the
door for her and was soon behind the starring-wheel himself.
"Where are we going?" Violet asked as he turned on the engine.
"To my favorite spot," he said and put his hand on her thigh.
===============================================================================
Everyone in L.A. seemed to do everything on the beach. Even though Tate was so
different from every other local, he seemed to like sitting by the ocean as
much. The difference, which Violet felt content with, was that the place he
picked was secluded enough. Close to the water, far away from the crowds. After
he had carefully placed a blanket on the sand, they both sat down, arm to arm,
their heads almost touching. Tate took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it,
quickly passing it to Violet. He was observing as she inhaled and exhaled, a
playful smile playing on his lips.
"Do you like it here?" She didn't know if he was asking about the beach or
about the area in general.
"Depends on what you mean."
"I mean whatever you want to tell me." Violet admired his intelligence.
"I got used to California but it's different from Boston. I thought that it
would be terrible," she paused for a moment "But it's bearable." Tate was
listening carefully to her every word.
"Why would your family move across the country?" Violet wasn't sure whether he
knew the answer already, she wouldn't be surprised. Tate was aware of much more
than he let on. She didn't care either way, it's not like she wanted to keep
the secret the way Ben and Vivien did.
"My dad cheated. The girl was 20 years his junior," she was observing his face
"Somehow he convinced my mother that we should start anew in a new place. Shit
about things getting better, new surroundings, new house, new people. He used
that psychotherapy bullshit on her and she agreed." Only then did she realize
how little she cared about that stuff now. Back in the day the bitterness would
wash over her but not anymore.
"That's terrible, Violet," Tate's voice was firm "Cheating is disgusting." She
nodded her head in agreement. They were thinking alike.
"What about you?" She wanted to know his back-story, put all the pieces
together.
"I was born and raised here. Lived in your house and after my dad," his voice
trembled "Died, we moved across the street. Whole life in the same place, same
faces. If not for my mother I wouldn't be stuck here." His voice was filled
with resentfulness, disgust even. The way Tate talked about his mother checked
with his therapy sessions... But it didn't check out with what he had told her
long time ago when she encountered him on the street that one time.
"You don't like Constance?" He turned his face to look her in the eyes.
"I hate that bitch," slow hiss went out of his mouth "She used to tell me that
he had killed himself, you know? I don't believe a word coming out of her
mouth. She has always been manipulative, stuck in the little world of her own.
The world of perfect life she had never been granted, the illusion of her
perfect son." Violet didn't expect him to open up that much. "I would leave her
behind if not for Addie. She can't protect herself against Constance."
Everything clicked in her head. The things that Constance had said about her
husband and her children. The fact that Tate was still visiting his mother's
house even though he clearly despised her. All of his lies. Violet came to the
conclusion that the life of a guy in front of her was way tougher than her.
Tate was faced with things that never even crossed her mind. She started to
understand his strange behavior. Looking at him there and then, Violet didn't
see a man, but a little boy in man's body, lost and cracked years before they
met. She put his hand on his, squeezing it lightly.
"I am so sorry." His face changed and his eyes were now filled with warmth she
had never seen before.
"Don't be. My life's better now that you are here." Tickly feeling was building
in her stomach. She hadn't realized it before, but just like everyone else, she
yearned to be understood and cared for. Violet slowly moved closer and placed
her lips on his. It was different from everything she had ever experience, a
statement that she couldn't find words for. Their first two encounters were
purely physical, but this was something else. Violet placed a hand on his neck,
caressing him gently, their kiss so delicate, so good. She shivered. Tate put
his hands around her, his hands traveling on her back until he carefully lied
her down, covering her body with his own. The kiss was a slow, sensual game of
exploring one another. He was nibbling on her lip and tongue, his breathing
heavier with each time their mouths were meeting. Violet slid her hands under
his shirt, his muscles tightening with every move he made. Her legs were
crossed, slick arousal spreading on her inner thighs. Tate moved down from her
lips, leaving a wet trail down her neck. He put his hands under her shoulders,
lifting her slightly, and continued with the kisses till he reached the hollow
between her breasts. She loved how this time it was so slow, almost lazy,
desire bubbling inside of her. Violet expected him to undress her, but he did
something completely different. Tate put his ear to her chest and stopped all
that he was doing. They were just laying, his face between her breasts, her
hands in his hair. Violet was looking at the sky.
"Do you ever wonder about the world?" What a strange thing to ask. She wasn't
one of those who pondered the mysteries of the universe.
"Why?" Tate was playing with her shirt, he seemed to be deep in his thoughts.
"It's such a filthy place we live in," he said finally "So much pain and
sorrow." She had a feeling that she had heard him talking about it in the past.
The ever-recurring trope of the bad, bad world. "Sometimes I look at people I
care about and I want them to be in the better place," he continued "You are so
pure Violet," he gazed at her. "Not tainted with all the bad that his place has
to offer." She should feel uneasy but instead her mind drifted off to his
therapy sessions. Was Tate truly psychotic? They way he talked about these
things, it seemed as his statements had underlying meaning.
"I don't ever think about stuff like that," she said, her voice calm. For a
split second he seemed baffled, as if he couldn't believe that Violet didn't
want to talk about it, or maybe that he let himself say it out loud. Tate was
good at hiding the darkness creeping inside of his mind, but once in a while he
would let his guard down. It never ended well.
"Oh okay," he stuttered, rising to the sitting position "Do you want to grab
something to eat? There's a nice place with burgers nearby, we can visit if you
want." He gave her his best smile. She returned it and put her hand on his arm,
squeezing it gently.
"I am starving, let's go."
===============================================================================
They were sitting in his car, none of them wanting to part ways. Tate put on
The Smiths, he figured that Violet would like some of the old-school stuff. She
was mouthing the words, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The streets were
covered in darkness, all the perfect families long inside. Tate found intimacy
in those simple moments. He had never been good at being close to people. None
of the girls he had dated made him feel as comfortable. The realization that
she let him so close made him both nearly ecstatic and worried. The things
would slip out of his mouth, he couldn't contain the urge to touch her, hold
her, savor her. Once again he felt at the edge. He was pursuing her since they
first met, not without obstacles and slips, but in the end they arrived at the
point that he had never imagined they would arrive at. Still, the anxious
feeling was creeping in the back of his head, the idea that he was invested on
the verge of the obsession, and the fact that the closer they were the more
harm he could cause. His mental ramblings were followed with a fit of rage, his
hands curling in fists on his lap. Nauseous feeling of self-hatred filled him
from head to toes. Anytime he tried to do a good deed, be a better man, the
voices, the feelings, were overwhelming him, lighting him the way toward the
ugly and vile. All that was going through his head was a reaction to the day
they had spent, realization how pure and good Violet is. How smart and
understanding, not a particle of evil in her slender body. He wanted her so
badly and he was making last attempt at stopping himself before he would be in
love so deep that he couldn't tell good from bad.
"I see you are thinking hard of something," her mocking voice interrupted his
self-reflection.
"Just feeling the moment, you know." He leaned in to her and place a small kiss
on her lips. "You better get going, Ben will be worried about you."
She smirked and exited the car.
===============================================================================
Violet avoided confrontation with either of her parents by announcing loudly
that she was home and that she needed to take a bath. She ran to her room, two
steps at the time, overjoyed with everything that had happened that day. She
was ready to throw herself at the bed and replay all of the events in her mind
over and over again, but she was stopped in tracks as she noticed the newspaper
laid-out on her sheets. It was opened on the page titled "Yet Another Murder in
the Area," followed by the wall of text and pictures of young women. Spark of
anger ran through her body. Violet didn't know whether she was more mad that
Ben had entered her room while she was gone, or that he had entered her room
with intention of leaving the newspaper behind. Once again she was treated like
a silly child. She huffed and sat down, taking the paper in her hands. She was
already mad so why not read the article. As it turned out, The High-School
Killer, as he was originally referred to, attacked again, same type of victim,
no other tropes, no DNA collected. Violet spent some time studying the pictures
of dead girls, apparently they posted their faces with long descriptions of
their lives as to touch the hearts of the readers. Or the killer maybe, but
Violet doubted that someone who picked those girls, had sex with them, and
later strangled them would feel any remorse because he grabbed the newspaper
with their faces plastered all over it. She threw the newspaper on the ground
and lit a cigarette. Pointless ramblings, those things would happen, especially
in heavily-populated areas. As if Boston hadn't produced its own freaks and
psychopaths. In fact, if anything, Ben should had been worried back there, way
smaller population than in L.A. Violet turned around, inhaling deeply, before
the thoughts of murders changed into the thoughts of Tate. She was replaying
their meeting in her head, over and over again, until she was sure that the
decision to meet with him was one of the best that she had made since arriving
in hot and sweaty California.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Omg! Guys, I'm so sorry! I post my work on two different sites and I
     forgot to upload last chapter here! Ahhh! You're getting two chapters
     today and I'm so, so sorry! One of you should've poked me that I
     didn't update haha.
     Other than that: this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I
     know that 3k words is not much for everyone, but I feel like I've
     just reached a milestone.
     Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm and mature
     themes.
Violet knocked on his door unsure whether she should be there at all. Few
seconds passed with no answer. She knocked again and put her ear against the
door. Violet could swear that she heard muffled sounds of music. Slowly,
shameful realization made it into her head. It was instantly followed with the
feeling of heat spreading on her neck and face. She turned into one of those
girls that wouldn't take a hint. Violet cursed at herself internally and turned
around to leave, making sure that each of her steps is as quiet as possible.
Sour feeling of disappointment mixed with shame was filling her insides. She
was sick of the unclear situation between the two of them, but most of all, she
was sick of her vulnerability. Violet had opened herself to someone for the
first time in her life, and that's how it ended. Hopes and expectations.
Attachment. That was the exact reason why she had avoided getting close to
anyone. Loneliness was good for her, no hard feelings toward anyone but
herself. She was at the last step when she heard the voice from above.
"Violet!"
===============================================================================
"Violet!" She turned around to see Trevor coming her way, cigarette in one
hand, energy drink in another. Her first instinct was to run away and hide, but
it was quickly replaced with sober thoughts. She couldn't avoid him forever.
"Violet," he said again, finally catching up with her "I haven't seen you in a
while. Why didn't you answer my calls?" She wanted to tell him kindly, yet
firmly that they would never work-out and she avoided him to spare him the
disappointment, but it wouldn't be considered normal. Instead she smiled
faintly and turned her face in his direction. He surely wasn't expecting the
harsh truth and Violet wasn't going to give him that anyway.
"I was busy." Her voice didn't sound sincere but she doubted that Trevor would
notice.
"That's life. I mean, so busy that you couldn't return even one of them? I
wanted to take you out for dinner." Violet quickened her pace to arrive at her
usual lunch-break spot. She put her bag down and leaned against the tree.
"I'm sorry," she uttered finally "I'll call you back next time." Her statement
must had sounded harsher than she wanted because his face changed. He looked
surprised for a second which was quickly followed by the sadness in his eyes.
Violet hated to deal with stuff like that. She never had the desire to lead
people on, in her mind it was something that shallow girls would do to make up
for their hidden lack of self-esteem. Trevor extinguished his cigarette and
squeezed her arm gently.
"I know you will," he said and turned around to leave. He waved his goodbye
before he disappeared from her sight. Violet sat down, her legs suddenly weak.
She still wasn't over her meeting with Tate. Days had passed and instead of
getting more distant, she felt closer to him, now more than ever. Not an hour
was spent without her wondering when they would see each-other again. Violet
hated the weaker, more romantic part of her nature, but at the same time she
felt overjoyed that she had found him in this foreign place. Lazy smile creeped
onto her face as she drifted off to the thoughts of their last meeting.
===============================================================================
Tate was gazing at her. Violet was overridden with conflicting feelings. She
could give him a long stare and leave, but that would make her look like
conceited bitch. If she were to get back, he would think that he has her rolled
around his little finger. For a short moment she was unsure of what her next
step should be.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled from above "Violet, please. Come upstairs and we will
talk." She was lost the moment he started talking in his broken, begging voice.
Her slow steps were echoing against the walls of the building. When they
finally stood face to face, Violet wasn't feeling confident at all. Tate had
hands in his pockets, his figure bended. He looked like a little boy again. He
made no move toward her so she passed him and entered the apartment. Tate
followed her and closed the door quietly. His face seemed different now. It
looked as if he was holding something back and any minute now it would pour
out.
"We need to talk," he whispered, and his quiet voice made her more afraid than
if he screamed. She was standing there quietly when he took a long step just to
arrive at mere inches from her.
===============================================================================
Tate hadn't showed up for his therapy session. Ben tried calling him and even
considered visiting Constance, but decided that it would be silly to ask about
her adult son's whereabouts. Violet was observing the situation from afar,
worry creeping in the back of her mind. At first she was afraid that something
happened to him for he had never skipped therapy before, but the more she
thought about it, the more anxious she felt. If she wasn't so insecure, she
would never think that his absence had something to do with her. Her mind was
giving her different answers though, each one worse than the previous one.
Violet was stuck in the never-ending circle of self-doubt and anxiety. She even
resorted to the habit of cutting, the marks on her skin being also the marks of
worse times. Anytime her life was flowing steadily, the razor was hidden deep
in her mattress. Once something happened, it would find its way onto her arms.
By the end of the weekend she couldn't contain herself any longer. She was on
the verge of madness and needed to clear the situation between them. As she
entered the car and started the engine, she wasn't sure what was she really
going to achieve. Should she outright confront him? Or pretend that she just
wanted to pay him a friendly visit? Violet had never found herself in such a
situation so she was thinking of all possible solutions. Climbing up the stairs
of his apartment building her mind was no clearer than it had been minutes ago
when she was driving down the dimly lit street. She braced herself and knocked
on the door, not knowing what awaited behind.
===============================================================================
He took her hand and led her to the couch. As soon as they sat down, he backed
off, his hands curled in fists on his lap.
"What are we doing," she asked to break the extremely uncomfortable silence
that was arising around them.
"Violet," he started, but she had enough of it. Violet, Violet, Violet. He
thought that because her name rolled off his tongue like a love song, she would
not question things that he did.
"Stop with the Violets," she interrupted him. "What's going on Tate? Why
wouldn't you contact me? Why would you skip therapy?" His face changed. It was
as if his mind was giving him conflicting signal. He looked both mad and sad.
"I've had stuff to do," he uttered through clenched teeth "I'm sorry if you
felt left-out, but I thought that it would be for the best." Violet felt taken
aback.
"Since when do you decide what's good for me?" She was feeling defensive. Tate
grabbed her arms aggressively and pulled her closer.
"Since I know that I'm a threat," he hissed "You shouldn't have come here,
Violet." He sounded as if he meant it, but his eyes were saying something
different.
"You are not a threat," she mumbled under her breath "I don't feel threatened
by you." It wasn't a full truth, but she wanted so badly to get answers from
him. Tate smiled faintly, his grip easing-off. He chuckled. It wasn't sincere
in the slightest.
"I'm doing everything I can to leave you alone" he said "But I can't". Violet
felt warmth building in her stomach. "I can't leave you and I can't control
myself around you." His words made her melt like a candy. He was showing his
affection in the most twisted way possible, but it was affection nevertheless.
Violet finally got the answer that she had been waiting for.
"Then don't," she whispered looking into his eyes. Tate lowered his head to
hers and before she could exhale with relief, his lips were on hers. Adrenaline
rushed through her veins and she clutched her hands in his hair to pull him
closer. He opened her mouth with his tongue, the taste of the alcohol and
cigarettes spreading on her own. Violet was filled with longing and she felt as
if she couldn't get enough. His hands were traveling on her neck and arms. She
was lost in the feeling, wetness on her mouth and between her legs. He grabbed
and lifted her to sit on his lap. Her legs tangled around his calves, his hands
on her thighs. He squeezed her and she let out and involuntarily moan, a small
sound that made Tate's eyes widen. He pulled her close yet again, exploring her
neck and base of her jaw. A wet mark was left in every place that his lips met
her skin. She wanted more. Her hands traveled to his zip and before she could
feel him fully, he stood up, lifting her with him. Her legs slid to the ground
as he put his arms around her and kissed her more hungry than before. Their
kiss messy, as if they couldn't find a right rhythm. Tate started leading them
toward the bed. When back of her knees were met with stiff mattress, he broke
the kiss. They were now gazing at each other, eyes filled with lust. He gently
pushed her back and Violet landed on the sheets, legs spread apart from clumsy
try to keep her balance. Tate kneeled between her thighs and put his hands
under her back to lift her ever so slightly. Their lips met again but this time
it was more angry, just as if he couldn't stop himself any longer. He was
dominating over her, with his body as well as his mind. When another moan left
her mouth, he backed off. His hands slid down her body to settle on the band of
her thighs.
"You purr like a little kitten," he whispered and removed them slowly, almost
with solemnity, his hands traveling up and down her legs. The tension was
unbearable, Violet sat down and pulled his shirt up and over his head. He
removed her cardigan and gently caressed soft skin on her back. It was then
when Violet realized that just taking off these two pieces made her bare. While
the old cuts had faded away, the news one were angry red and hence painfully
visible. She knew that Tate wouldn't be disgusted with them, but the feeling of
shame filled her nevertheless.
"Don't hide," he mumbled as if he could hear her thoughts. He took her hand and
placed a soft kiss on the scar she beared on her wrist. Then he did something
that sent shivers down her spine, he moved his lips up her arm. Something
nearly animalistic flashed in his eyes as his tongue rolled around the fresh
cuts. He pulled Violet to sit on his lap, her legs tight around his hips. He
was looking into her eyes as he lifted the hem of her dress and slid his hand
under. Her body froze. One of his hands was securing her hip while the other
one moved lower, and lower until it rested on the very center of her panties.
She had never been in sexual situation with a man before, but she understood
they way Tate's gaze asked for her approval. Violet nodded her head and he
slowly moved her pants aside to touch the heated skin. His fingers were
circling the wetness between her legs, she knew the pleasant feeling well
enough. It's not like she had never touched herself before. Her hand clenched
onto his arm as his fingers made their way inside of her, stroking her lightly.
His eyes was half-closed as he continued, Violet's soft moans accompanying his
every stronger move. Her first natural reaction to the sounds that his fingers
were making inside of her was shame, but it was soon followed with the urge to
return the pleasure that he was giving. She clumsily unzipped his jeans and
touched him gently through the fabric of his boxers. Violet was completely
inexperienced, but she didn't feel as if it mattered to him. Maybe, probably,
it even made him more eager to have her. His fingers started to move more
frantically as she slid her hands to hold him, skin to skin. She liked how he
felt under her hand. Her fingers closed around him and started to move, trying
to match the rhythm he had appointed. His free hand moved from her hip to her
neck, gripping her, pulling her to his lips. They were both breathing heavily,
their mouth dry, tongues unable to meet from the feelings overflowing their
bodies.
"Do you want to," he muttered, his eyes wide-open. Violet had never really
though of her first time before. Well, she did, but more in a terms of it just
happening rather than imagining the whole, love ritual.
"Yeah," she blurted and as soon as the words left her mouth, his fingers slid
out of her body. She let go of him and moved back, as he kneeled on the end of
the bed to reach the drawer. Tate pulled out a condom out of the packet and
placed it in her hands. He himself turned to take off his pants. Violet was
observing his body, no detail escaping her notice. She knew that she would be
replaying that moment in her mind, over and over again. As soon as he was done
he returned to his previous position and grabbed her to sit on his lap again.
Only that now she was dressed, and he was completely naked, which made every
muscle in his body tense. He kissed her hungrily, working on her dress, and
when he finally took it off, he stopped in awe. Tate loved how small and
vulnerable she looked. It contrasted well with lust in her eyes. He unclipped
her bra and as it slid on the sheets, his head was already between her breast.
He wanted her so badly it nearly ached him. He cupped her right breast in his
hand and closed his mouth around her nipple, his tongues circling it as if
Tate's life depended on it. Violet could not stop her back from arching. Now,
that was something entirely new. He sucked on the delicate skin, his lips
moving all around her. She decided that if they are about to do it, she better
try and pretend that she's perfectly capable of using condoms. She ripped the
package open and tried to unroll it when he stopped her.
"Take off your pants," Tate's voice didn't sound like a command, more like a
plea, but Violet was quick to obey anyway. Her panties were around her calf
when he grabbed her around the hips. She was now kneeling over him, knowing
very well that if she was to lower herself an inch he would enter her. Violet
enjoyed the moment they shared, looking in each other eyes, her hands on his
arms, clutching him. She thought she was ready but when he slid inside her
without a warning, her eyes teared up. The feeling was extremely unpleasant, as
if something was tearing her, and all she wanted was for him to back up. He
hugged her to his chest, stroking her hair. Tate was whispering in her ear,
something about it getting better in a moment, and how happy he was that she
let him do it in the first place. As the pain eased off a bit, her hips jerked
involuntarily. He once again placed his hands on her hips and lifted her
slightly to slide into her again. Violet started to enjoy the feeling, however
strange. Few more movements directed by him and she had her arms around him,
moving quicker and quicker. The friction mixed with eased-off, but not
completely gone, pain was making her breathing ragged. They were now moving in
a somehow steady rhythm. Tate arched his back a bit and she could take a look
at their connection. There was something dirty but utterly erotic about him
thrusting into her, and her observing the whole act. For a moment she felt like
in a pornographic movie with extreme close-ups, which only added to her
arousal. Tate held her hips steady and started thrusting into her in a slower,
but way forceful manner. His every move was hitting her to the core and she
didn't know whether she felt pleasured or hurt. He closed his eyes and Violet
could study his focused face, sweat appearing on his forehead, and the veins
getting more and more visible on his neck. With the next hard thrust he put his
hand around her neck and pushed her on the back. He was now covering her with
his body, her legs closing around his back. He tightened his grip and the lack
of air mixed with the feeling inside of her was making her purr. With three
more thrusts he finished, his breathing heavy, and his body putting all of its
weight on Violet. Few short breaths exited his mouth and he slid out of her
slowly. As he stood up, she rolled on her side and clumsily slid on the dress.
"I am tired," she whispered as he sat on the mattress. Tate laid down and put
his arm around her, his eyes closing.
"Me too."
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Here's another chapter! I'm so sorry, I'm such an idiot. I actually
     uploaded last chapter but instead of posting, I just saved it, ugh.
     Haha, anyway, here's this week's now and I'll be more careful from
     now on.
     Now, onto the trigger warning. This chapter contains mentions of
     "drug" abuse. I decided for Tate to snort sleeping pills instead of
     cocaine (why? you'll find out once you read the chapter). No, I'm not
     a junkie. A good friend of mine had been addicted to anti-depressants
     and strong sleeping pills for years. The things I'm describing are
     really how this stuff works and how he used them. For obvious safety
     reasons I left out all the names and details that could give someone
     a trope. Please, don't ask me how are they called or how to obtain
     them. Remember that this is a work of FICTION. I try to make it
     realistic but under NO circumstances do I encourage anyone to partake
     in a dangerous behavior.
     Hope you enjoy. :-)
Uncomfortable feeling in Violet's bones woke her up. She felt as after an
intense work-out, only that instead of having sore arms or legs, her pelvis and
hips were the ones aching in a weird manner. It was as if pressure was applied
on them from within. She freed herself from Tate's strong grip and turned on
her back. Violet stretched, which was followed by a cringe-worthy crack of her
spine. Or something else, not that she knew much about anatomy. She lifted her
head slightly and looked around the room. Tate didn't have any clocks, neither
on the night-stand or anywhere else, but thanks to the weak sunlight creeping
through the curtains, she assumed that it must have been quite early. She
turned again, this time to face Tate. He was still deep asleep, his mouth
opened slightly, head glued to his arm. He was wearing nothing but clearly
worn-out black boxers and Violet couldn't help herself, but to admire his
masculine physique. There definitely was something sexy about his strong
figure. She even caught a glimpse of dark hair disappearing down his pants.
Violet realized that she was acting like a total creep, admiring his body as he
slept soundly, and she let out a small chuckle. She shifted her focus to his
face and before she knew it, her fingers were traveling in his hair. They
slowly slid to his forehead and later cheek, finally running over his jaw.
Violet didn't know why but she felt strong urge to remember him with her hands,
it was as if images would fade away with time. She would forget the exact color
of his hair or eyes, but she would always remember the feeling of his face
below her fingers. That wasn't a matter of sentiment, more of how her mind
worked. For example, she would never buy clothes because she especially liked
the design or color. She needed to feel the texture to decided if she could put
it on her back. Most of her things would be considered "specific-looking" to
put it nicely, but she didn't care as long as they were thick enough to cover
her, or scratchy enough to make her skin feel funny. Violet found it hilarious
how she compared Tate to a piece of clothing, but it was a spot-on comparison.
He was like her favorite T-shirt she slept in. Worn-out and not exactly to be
flaunted in public, but her favorite nevertheless. Her fingers lifted from his
jaw and settled on his lips. She was careful not to put on too much pressure
while she was lining out the contour of his mouth, but Tate woke up anyway.
Violet took back her hand quickly, her cheeks blushing madly. She should have
owned up to her behavior, act as if nothing had happened, but feeling of
embarrassment washed over her with the speed of a thunder, and she couldn't
even bring herself to look him in the eyes. He let out a small laugh and lifted
himself to half-sitting position.
"So you are stalking me after all," he said jokingly. It eased her off a bit,
he could always make her feel adequate.
"You look like a baby when you are sleeping," she started "Different from your
usual self, huh?" She didn't know whether she tried to annoy him jokingly. or
sincerely refer to the events of the past, but it didn't matter as her
statement fell onto deaf ears.
"Did it hurt?" Tate blurted. "First time usually does." He was being
uncomfortably straightforward and that was one of the things that made Violet
feel as if he truly was mentally-disturbed. Another, much more pleasant,
thought crossed her mind instantly after. He cared. He didn't ask to make her
feel weird. He asked because he wanted to know if she is okay.
"It was alright," she said. Violet was honest, no need to sugar-coat stuff. She
was happy to get her first-time out of the way. After the fact, she actually
felt content that she did with him. Not because she cared about how it would
happen, but because she really, really liked him. If they were to part ways,
which Violet expected would soon happen, she would not regret that they had
done it. Tate pulled her close and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
"It was 'alright' for me too," he said.
===============================================================================
They parted ways as soon as sun fully raised. Tate had even offered her coffe,
and bacon and eggs (which was met with a sarcastic remark about his cooking
skills) before she left, but she refused and opted for single cigarette and can
of coke. He went downstairs with her, which made Violet feel warm inside, and
waited for her to start the car. Once she did, he leaned through the window and
gave her a whole-hearted kiss. On her way home Violet reached into the bag she
had forgetfully left in the back-seat. She acted on her emotions and her usual
behavior of careful sneaking-out was replaced with frantic running down the
stairs and closing doors with a loud bang. If Ben was by any chance awake when
she was leaving, hell would await back home. She unlocked her phone, her
breathing ceasing. Nothing. No messages, no unaswerd phone-calls. She sighed
with relief. They were most probably still asleep and if she was to encounter
her mother while entering the house, she would make a show of hiding cigarettes
and pretending as if she had been out to smoke. Violet was happy. She didn't
know what would happen next, but at that very moment, future looked bright and
overwhelming feeling of joy was filling her from head to toes.
===============================================================================
Tate didn't know what to do with himself after she had left. For the first time
in his life he felt about someone so strongly. He had always had problem with
attachment, but most often it was caused by circumstances that he simply
couldn't erase. Deep down he felt attached to Constance, mainly because she had
always been manipulative and over-protective. He surely felt attached to Addie,
for both of them had suffered from their mother's character, his sister even
more so than him. But romantical attachment - it was something entirely new.
His feelings for Violet bordered on obsession. He didn't know whether he felt
drawn to her because of the way she carried herself or quite the opposite -
because she had been so delicate and fragile under that emotionless armor. At
first his plans were sinister, as with every other, but there was some light in
Violet that made him feel less like a monster, and more like actual human
being. He admired her courage and sharp mind. Actually, the more he thought
about it, the more things he admired. In his eyes she was flawless, perfect to
the point where he felt as if it was his duty to protect her from the outside
world, for otherwise she would soon be tainted with all the things he despised.
And the fact that she had given herself to him made him feel even more so. Not
only did he have her mind, but he also had her body. Slender, thin, pale body
that he wanted to fill with himself. He could snap her with his bare hands, and
the fact that he owned something so fragile made him feel even more inclined on
protecting it. Tate wandered to his night-stand and opened the drawer. Under
the stash of things there it was, a pack of really strong sleeping pills that
he had been described by some half-assed psychiatrist some time ago. They made
him feel relaxed to the point of complete lack of reaction. Back in the day he
had been snorting cocaine but once he moved out, he decided that keeping
sleeping pills is safer. Not that he would ever do anything for cops to track
him down, but with his academic career it was better to be safe than sorry.
After all, sleeping pills were legal. He took 3 capsules out of the pack and
opened them to pour whitish dust on the surface. He wasn't taking them
regularly. Hell, he wasn't a junky. Pills were his gate-away when he got mad,
but also much needed extension to pleasurable feelings, and those were
happening more often after he had met Violet. He searched for credit card and a
dollar. Tate knew that snorting that stuff was dangerous, especially snorting a
few at the time, but if swallowed, they would take some time to work, and he
wanted immediate effect. He created three thin lines and took them one after
another. As soon as the last one hit his nose he lied down. Soon everything was
muted, and calm, and his mind was filled with pleasant thoughts. Small amount
of blood dripped from his nose and travelled down his cheek but Tate didn't
care. He was smiling, his eyes focused on the ceiling above.
===============================================================================
This time Tate didn't leave her hanging. Anytime he was in the neighborhood he
would do some small, but meaningful act to show her that he remembers.
Sometimes she would find a note stuck somewhere in her car or a neatly rolled
cigarette, sitting on the wall, waiting for her once she needed to get some
"fresh air," as she ironically put it. It was as if Tate was from a different
time. No phone-calls, texting, or even e-mailing. He would show-up physically
to contact her in one way or another. If anyone else did something like this,
Violet would think that they are over the top cheesy, but with Tate it somehow
felt right. She had never imagined that someone would give her so much warm
attention, but she had to admit that it felt good. She was slowly realizing
that maybe, just maybe, having someone close would not always be a chore. It
wasn't as if she had had tons of meaningful memories or close friends before.
Violet's life used to be predictable and somehow the most unpredictable thing
that her family had ever done, turned out to be good for her. She was wandering
the possession, deep in her thoughts when easily recognizable, yet not really
welcomed, voice broke the silence.
"Violet darling," Constance was standing on her lawn, wide smile plastered on
her face "Won't you come in for a glass of tea?" The proposition seemed odd at
best. They were not friendly with each-other. Sure, Constance would visit her
family sometimes, uninvited of course, but anytime her overly warm greetings
ended, she would send Violet a disgusted look. Not like she cared, but
resentment on their neighbor's side was clear. Once again though, the curiosity
took the best of Violet.
"Sure, why not," she shouted, crossing the path between their possessions.
Constance led her to the door and waited for her to come in before closing the
door. Interior was strikingly similar to their house's with dark wood, floral
wallpapers, and heavy, old-school furniture. That woman must had really loved
the Murder House. Violet followed Constance to the spacious kitchen, taking in
all of the details.
"Do you like sweet tea?" Constance's voice echoed against the walls as she
opened the fridge.
"Never tried it before," Violet couldn't help but feel as if she just committed
a massive faux-pas for her answer was met with a polite smile that didn't reach
Constance's icy gaze. She put two tall, crystal glasses filled with ice on the
table and poured both of them the tea. After that she finally sat down with a
gracious move, which Violet understood as an invitation to sit down as well.
She took a sip of sickeningly sweet drink and looked around the kitchen.
"I get that you are seeing my son," said Constance with certainty in her voice,
although the statement was posed as a question. Violet didn't know whether she
really knew anything or was just waiting for her to slip.
"I don't know what you…" Constance interrupted her with a small smile.
"Me and my son have no secretes. You really are a silly girl if you think we
do." She felt insulted, but before a stingy answer was completed in her mind,
Constance continued. "Tate had never had good taste in…girls," her eyes slid
from Violet's face to her body "And I allowed his mistakes for needed to learn
from them, but this time…" she smiled softly and let out a small chuckle, "The
price is too high." Her smile turned sinister and Violet felt as if she was
talking to she-Tate. She felt completely taken aback. What in the hell was that
psycho bitch talking about? "You see, Violet," Constance's voice was now urgent
"You are walking a thin line and I care about my son. I care about him deeply
and I don't think it's your place to interrupt. Things get ugly quickly." Was
she threatening her? Anger was bubbling inside of her body and she was ready to
attack, not thinking about the consequences, when Constance spoke yet again.
But this time it wasn't directed at her.
"Addie," she hissed "What did I tell you about coming downstairs when I have
guests". Violet turned around to see a girl peeking through the kitchen door.
She was dressed in a blue dress, her hands intertwined in front of her. When
she looked up and her face caught a bit of the sunlight coming from the window,
Violet's breathing stopped. Addie was suffering from Down's Syndrome, her
features the clear indication. Instantly, all the information she gathered,
clicked and her stomach clenched. Constance's daughter was mentally disabled
and if all that Violet knew was true, the girl had a terrible life. She was
feeling different things at once. Disbelief that Constance was talking freely
about her daughter being basically an "abomination", sadness because of what
that belief resulted in, and happiness when she realized that Tate had always
cared about his sister and did everything to protect her from their mother.
"I don't want to see you around him," Constance's voice brought her back to the
reality. "And don't think that I wouldn't know, even if both of you were
lurking in the shadows." New-found hatred for woman in front of her spread
through her veins and resulted in an angry spit.
"Don't think you have any say in this, psycho bitch." Violet hissed as she
raised from the table and started walking toward the door.
"You are next," were the last words that Violet had heard before she slammed
doors behind her.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than the two last
     ones. It's hard to juggle writing, work, and social life. That being
     said, the next one is going to be juicy so I hope you stick around.
     Enjoy!
Violet rushed upstairs, madness washing over her. There were several reason for
her out- of-this world anger and she could pinpoint all of them. She was mad at
Tate for talking to Constance about them, that was the first. She couldn't wrap
her mind around the idea of him communicating personal stuff to his mother.
Yes, she knew that he was dependant on her in some way, but she also knew that
he hated her with the power of thousand suns. She was mad that Constance felt
like threatening her, even if those were empty threats. Most of all, though,
she felt caged. Everyone was sticking nose in her business. Ben and Vivien were
all over her shit on daily basis. Tate was snooping around since the day one.
Constance, whom she didn't even like in the first place, stepped into her life
with dirty boots and tried to order her around.
"For fuck's sake," slipped from her mouth as she sat on the windowsill. As she
looked cautiously around the neighborhood, her anger levels finally lowered.
Sun was setting down and warm light made all of the gardens look eerily calm.
Buildings were drowning in orange and pink, and for a moment her racing
thoughts slowed down. They sped up again as her eyes focused on Langdon's
house. All of their windows were covered with thick curtains, richly
embroidered with fancy, floral designs. She realized that, except for obvious
aesthetic reasons, they were there to not let a curious eye in. Funny how
Constance respected her privacy to the point when no-one could even see if she
was at home, but she could appear at your doorstep anytime. As with many things
in her life, Violet was aware that she knew a lot about certain people, but she
didn't knowthem. Somehow situation with Tate and Constance made it even more
clear. There was a lot of understatements, even holes, in the story. What was
the deal with Langdons and their obsession with intimate relationships? Why
would the adult man feel the need to reveal the truth about his romantic
interests to his mother? No matter how manipulative Constance was, it just
sounded weird. Especially since Violet knew that Tate lied, when he said that
he was visiting his mother to comfort her. And what was the deal with "you are
next"? Constance clearly posed a threat but about what? In what way would
Violet be next? Her initial reaction was that Tate would dump her, which
actually fit with her general outlook on things. But then she faintly
remembered the time when Constance talked about his high-school girlfriend, one
that she clearly didn't like as well. Did she do something to her? Violet
didn't doubt that Constance's affection for Tate ran deep and if need be – she
would do everything to secure his happiness and well-being. Did she hijack
their relationship? Ruined girl's reputation? Constance seemed like the type.
Her thoughts drifted from his mother to Tate himself. She felt something for
him, this much was clear. But she just couldn't ignore all the bizarre stuff
that she had noticed. Violet despised that whole "I lost my mind because of
love" mindset. If she was in her mother's shoes, she would never forgive. She
would never forget. She just couldn't understand how someone could go so blind.
How was that love blinded people to the point of complete refusal? Yes, Violet
did some irrational things. Her relationship with Tate, whatever it was, had
always been irrational. Only that she knew what she was signing for. To erase
the darker part of his nature was to erase him completely. And the closer she
got, the more darkness she saw. He opened himself, and although his affection
seemed pure and genuine, she knew that there were mechanisms rolling in his
head on repeat. The ones that he just couldn't force-stop. His attachment to
Constance was definitely one of them. They were bonded in a way that she
couldn't grasp and that made her want to uncover their secret even more. She
was in too deep. Too deep with Tate to back off and forget. Suddenly, an
obvious idea struck her. Jesus, maybe he was behind with technology but she
sure wasn't. Violet reached for her laptop and did what any normal teenager
would do – googled him. His name popped on numerous sites, most of them
connected with Westfield or university that he worked for. She cautiously
researched everything and the information she had added up. He was, in fact, a
track-running "star", mentioned on her high-school's website in "hall of fame"
tab. He also didn't lie about his current job, his name written in bold over
American Literature course. All the newspaper articles she stumbled upon
mentioned his sport's career. Violet felt a bit disappointed, although she
didn't know what was she expecting. It's not like his private
informations would be made public. At least she knew that weird situation with
Constance was rather a matter of family affairs than anything else. Violet
sighed and closed laptop with a loud thump. Maybe it was best for her not to
make assumptions about stuff she clearly had no idea about.
===============================================================================
 
Each passing day was proving harder and harder for their relationship. For
obvious reasons, they had to keep it a secret. His reputation and her parents'
sanity were at stake. Well, not exactly. She didn't care if Ben would go
apeshit over this information. If anything, she would be glad to see him
restless. Only that his anger would result in numerous new restrictions. He
hardly let her wander off when they were on civil terms, vision of his control
if he was extremely mad was almost too much to bear. So secret they stayed,
each meeting marked by Violet's lies to Vivien and sneaking out after the house
had gone to sleep. That day was no different. Violet had created an elaborate
lie about seeing her friends before school to make final touch-ups on their
history project. She made sure that her mother would be sound asleep as she was
leaving almost an hour before her usual time. Tate was parked in the spot that
was now called "the usual", waiting inside his car with engines running. Violet
loved those moments they shared either in the very early or very late hours of
the day. They would be driving around the district, music playing faintly,
images rolling outside the windows. Sometimes they would talk, small chuckles
and smirks exchanged. Others, Violet would close her eyes and lean back in the
seat, Tate's hand traveling on her thigh. Twenty minutes before the bell, he
parked on the street in front of the main entrance.
"I'll see you tonight," he whispered into her ear as his arms tightened around
her. She nodded her head and opened the door to step into overwhelming heat.
First person that Violet noticed was Trevor, stopped in his tracks, staring at
her with his mouth open. She instantly felt irritated, it was now quite clear
that they would not be hanging-out anymore. Her pace was quick, head hung low.
"What the fuck," she heard his voice right behind her. Violet was passing high-
schoolers gathered on school's lawn to make it into her quiet spot. "What in
the fuck," she heard again and finally turned around.
"What do you want?" She barked at him, her eyes squinting.
"Why are you hanging-out with Langdon?" His voice was an angry hiss. Violet
felt dumbfounded. How? How did he know him? She instantly became defensive.
"What are you talking about?" Trevor was standing right in front of her, his
eyes widening.
"Tell me you are playing." She was quiet, her foot patting on the ground.
"Jesus," he whispered finally "You really don't know." No, she didn't. Trevor
gripped her arm and pulled her away from the crowd. She could be arguing that
he had no right to touch her but she wanted to know. They finally stopped, far
away from any curious ears.
"So? What's that burning matter you have to tell me about?"
"Tate was my older brother's friend," Trevor started "Back in the high-schools
days, they were both track running." He took a deep breath. "There was a girl
that always hung-out with him. Hayden, I think that was her name. At some point
they became official, she was head over heels in love with him." Violet
stiffened completely, she knew the punch would come any second now. "That was,
until she disappeared. Fell off the face of the earth. They found her days
later," He looked her straight into the eyes "Dead." Violet let out a small
breath. "And you know what's the worst? Tate showed no emotions when he found-
out. He was in school every other day, being as calm as always. My brother was
more emotional about it than he was and he didn't even like her!" Trevor's
words were getting frantic now. "Person behind her death was never found, but
my brother… he knew. It was their senior year and after all the fuss had died
out, they never spoke again." Violet searched her pockets for a cigarette. She
lit it, her eyes focused on Trevor's face. She inhaled deeply as her emotions
settled a bit. Her mind was a mess. She had no reason to not trust Trevor.
Obviously, he just wouldn't make shit like that on the spot, even with his
ability to bullshit his way through anything. No, he was dead serious, his
emotions raw and livid. Still, she couldn't bring herself to believe everything
he had just said.
"I don't know," she said finally "Almighty track-running star murders his
teenage girlfriend with cold blood and the only person that knows the truth is
your brother?" Trevor snorted, his face mean.
"Right, should have known that you wouldn't believe me."
"It's not that I don't believe you but," he was staring at his boots "Your
brother accused his best-friend of murder. That's some serious shit." Trevor
crossed his gaze with hers.
"Yeah, well, they were friends, but Tate never let anyone close enough. You get
what I mean? He was always…off. Distant. Weird. And Hayden. Hayden changed
throughout their relationship. It was as if she was giving Tate everything he
had and he didn't even seemed bothered. Truth be told, my brother said that he
was using her for one thing and…" His voice was now filled with sadness "I
guess Hayden didn't like it." So he got rid of her, Violet's mind filled the
blank space. She shook her head in disbelief. "I just want you to be safe,"
Trevor said as he caressed her arm. Violet flinched. "I mean, fuck, I don't
know. I'm sorry for that outburst. Maybe my brother didn't know the full truth
but I believe him. I really do. Better safe than sorry, you know?" The bell
rang loudly and Violet turned around to see mass of people coming inside the
school building. She took a step back as to shook Trevor's hand off her arm.
"Thanks," she said "Thanks for telling me that. I'll think about it." After
uttering her crooked goodbye she turned around and left, not looking back one
time.
===============================================================================
 The longer she was thinking about Trevor's revelation, the more doubts she
had. At first it sounded far-fetched. It could simply be a coincidence that
grew out of proportions. Sure, Tate was distant. "Weird" as Trevor put it. And
knowing him as she did, she could believe that in his hormonal peak, he chose
to hang-out with some bubblehead who wanted to screw. Somehow, the cold-blooded
murder didn't fit that image. But then, she tried to remember all the things
that she knew. Hayden had been the ex-girlfriend mentioned by Constance. She
must had been. And Violet already came to conclusion that the girl had done
something to anger her. To "ruin" Tate's future. Theoretically, for years later
he was in a pretty good place. Violet tried to look for a motive. Constance
killed her out of spite? No, that wasn't possible. She was borderline, not
homicidal. Constance killed her because Hayden was threatening Tate with
something? But with what? According to Trevor he didn't even care for her.
Hell, it took Violet months to get some truth out of him, and it wasn't even
full truth. She doubted that his presumed high-school girlfriend would know
something that Violet didn't. But then again, maybe Hayden didn't know his
secrets. Maybe it was something else. Maybe the thing she had on him wasn't a
threat on itself, but the thing that he saw as a threat? Violet's head was
spinning. This was getting out of control. She felt embarrassed that she even
had those thoughts in the first place. No, Tate couldn't kill anyone. He
couldn't. This was definitely blown out of proportions, an assumption made by
some guy he had known back in the day. She was going to talk with him, Violet
thought as she entered her car. She would ask him about it and he would laugh,
and laugh. And then he would say that she was crazy for even thinking that.
Violet turned on the radio and drove off, leaving a cloud of fumes behind her.
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm so sorry for the delay! Sometimes life gets into the way of my
     writing and well...things happen.
     We are slowly nearing the end of the story. I think that there are
     two, maybe three, chapters left. What do you think is going to
     happen? I'd love to hear your thoughts!
     Warning: this chapter contains adult themes.
Violet knocked persistently on Tate's door. She heard his rushed steps and took
a step back, trying to look as emotionless as possible. He opened the door and
his faced lightened up as soon as he saw her. She gave him a small smile and
walked inside.
"I didn't expect you to come," he mumbled as she looked around and noticed
stack of papers scattered on the sofa and the table.
"Grading stuff, huh?" She took a few more steps and finally rested against a
kitchen counter. Tate was standing in a fair distance, his hands in pockets of
washed-off jeans. He couldn't read her face and that worried him. "Hayden," she
said finally. Blood drained from Tate's face. Violet observed how his cheek
twitched.
"What?" He said after a minute of complete silence. His voice was flat.
"Hayden, your ex-girlfriend. Tell me about her." Her lips curled into a
welcoming smile. She didn't know how he would react, and the way his whole body
tensed and eyes traveled frantically around her face, worried her.
"How do you know?" He didn't sound angry but he wasn't curious either. He
seemed uncomfortable, every word he spoke seemed forced. Violet found this
whole situation somehow exciting, uncovering secrets at all. She seized the
moment by retracting cigarette from her bag.
"Little bird told me," her words echoed in his head as she exhaled a gray cloud
of smoke.
"My mother?" Violet smiled. So she was right.
"Funny that you mention her," she said "But no." Tate finally pulled himself
together and decided to play it cool. He was sure that she didn't know it all,
so it was his place to recreate reality in a way that he saw fit.
"What do you want to know?"
"Just tell me about it." Tate took a few steps in her direction.
"What's there to tell? We were dating in high-school," he was calm. "You know,
high-school sweethearts and all." Violet had to push his buttons.
"Did you love her?" Tate snorted.
"No," he sounded amused. "I didn't. When you look back, you realize how
superficial everything was." She didn't know whether she expected that answer
or not. Tate seemed honest and that meant that everything she heard from
Trevor, so far, was true. He didn't love her. He thought their relationship was
superficial. Violet could only guess that it was superficial to him, not her.
"When did you two break-up?" Tate's face changed. He was observing her with
attention to every little detail. For example, the way in which her eyes
narrowed after she had asked the question.
"We didn't," he said "But we had a falling-out." What was he doing? Did he want
to give her a clue? Tate was now centimeters from her.
"Why?" Violet was leaning uncomfortably against the counter, wooden surface
hurting her back. He didn't say anything, his eyes drilling her head. "What's
Hayden up to now?" Tate put his hands on the counter, locking her in.
"She's dead," he whispered "And you think that I killed her." Tate didn't fall
into the trap, Violet did.
"I don't," she gasped as she tried to avoid his gaze.
"I think you do, Violet." There it was, the danger creeping into his voice.
"You think that I got rid of her," he put his hand under her chin and lifted
her head. "Or do you think that I killed her for fun?" She felt uncomfortable
both physically and mentally. But she had to hear that he didn't do it. That it
was all in her head.
"Didn't you?" Their eyes locked and Tate let out a chuckle. A chuckle that
turned into a full-blown laugh. And then it turned into a hiss. His hand closed
around her neck.
"Am I a killer?" His change of mood frightened her. She felt as if she crossed
the boundary, accusing him the way she did. His lips crushed against hers and
his arms closed around her body. She was trapped and various emotions were
rushing through. Before she could vocalize her thoughts he aggressively turned
her around, her torso hit the counter and she gasped for air. He held her hips
in place as his head lurked between her neck and arm. He was sucking on the
skin, painfully, his mouth nearly assaulting her and all she could do was to
breath heavily. For a moment he stopped, and she could hear the unbuckling of
his trousers, which was followed by her own sliding down. He put his hand on
the counter and entered her with a loud gasp. Violet could feel her eyes
tearing and she bended further to ease of her aching muscles. His thrusts were
deep, each one followed by the loud slap of his skin against her own. She
realized that no matter how aggressive and unexpected, she enjoyed it. Maybe
she liked it in spite of those things. She leaned against him and rested her
head on his arm. His hands were frantically running up and down her body,
finally resting on her breast that he squeezed eagerly. His movements got more
rapid as did his breathing, and he soon came with a deep moan. Violet's breath
was ragged as she took a step forward and rested her elbows against the
counter. She didn't turn around to look at Tate but she heard him.
"I'm sorry," he said "I'm sorry, Violet". His words were quickly turning into
incoherent mumbling and he fell to his knees. "I'm sorry," he said again as his
arms curled around her legs. His cheek rubbed against the inside of her thigh
and Violet inhaled deeply. He placed his mouth on her and her whole body
tensed, only to relax completely in a minute. His face was rubbing her in the
most pleasurable way and Violet couldn't stop herself from grinding against
him. Tate's hands rested on her thighs, squeezing her ever so gently with every
moan she made. How did they end up here? Did he do it to take her mind off
uncomfortable thoughts? To change her mind? She couldn't dwell on those things
further as he started to suck on her skin. Violet gave in and let waves of
pleasure pass her body, her hands gripping the counter to the point where it
hurt. Tate was giving his all, pleasuring her as if his life depended on it, up
till she came with a short scream. He backed off slowly and sat on the ground,
wiping his face with a sleeve of his shirt.
"I better not be pregnant,"said Violet as she put her trousers back on.
===============================================================================
 
Sex was only a momentary distraction from gut-wrenching thoughts. When she lied
on the couch as he was marking the essays, it all came flooding back. She
didn't get a clear answer from him, but she knew one thing – Trevor wasn't
lying. He wasn't lying when he described Tate's past relationship. Whether the
person next to her committed a crime or not, didn't seem to matter as much.
What made Violet nearly sick, was the realization that she didn't react in a
way in which she should have. The only worse thing – she didn't have it in her
to detest him.
To fear him. To be disgusted. Was she in love? Violet dwelled on the thought.
Why didn't his assumed murder make her scream and run? Why was she more
interested in hearing the truth from him, whatever it be, than having the truth
on itself? Was she in love? Hours ago she felt lost. She felt scared. But now
she knew that she wasn't scared of the truth. She was scared of her own
feelings. Violet cared for Tate so deeply that it was clouding her judgment.
She felt as if she needed a slap. A hard, burning slap. Was she becoming the
type of person that once upon a time she would have sworn that she despised?
Tate turned his head in her direction and gave her a smile, the one where his
dimples showed and his eyes lightened with affection. Violet felt as someone
who's drowning, but he's hardly catching breath anymore. He doesn't kick and
scream into the void. He's still conscious but he has already given up. He lets
the depth of dark water take him. Jesus, when did she become such a fucking
poet. Violet smirked to herself and extended her hand to touch Tate's face. She
closed her eyes and let her fingers roam along his cheek.
===============================================================================
 
She couldn't stay a night. Not again. Violet was used to hiding stuff and
bending the reality, but she didn't have any power left to create sophisticated
lies that she would throw in her parents' faces. They parted ways minute after
midnight. When she entered her house's driveway, all she wanted to was to lie
down and doze off. She walked slowly through the garden and opened the front
door quietly. It was dark and quiet inside, and she was passing the kitchen
when she caught a sight of her father, sitting by the kitchen island, his hands
rested in front of him. Caught red-handed and she didn't even feel like
fighting. She took a few slow steps forward.
"Violet," Ben's serious tone stopped her "Come here." Fuck. She took a second
to think about her options and finally turned around to enter the kitchen.
"Sorry," she started "I'm just really tired, I want to go to bed." She smiled
politely ready to take off when Ben looked her in the eyes.
"Sit," he ordered and there was nothing else but to do as she was told. Violet
dropped her bag on the floor and sat on the stool, uncomfortable silence making
her shiver. Ben inhaled and exhaled loudly. He tapped his fingers on the
surface. Finally, he turned to face her.
"Where have you been?" She was quick to make a ready-made answer.
"With friends." She made it sound as the most mundane thing ever.
"What friends?" Ben's eyes were studying her face. She smirked.
"Not like you know them." It was a safe statement. He didn't. He couldn't
possibly know any of her "friends". Except for Trevor. But even if he was to
ask about him, it would be much better to get caught "with Trevor" than to be
caught with Tate. Ben looked at the clock placed on the wall to his right.
"Were any of these friends male?" Good, Ben. Good.
"They might be." Corners of her lips lifted. Ben smiled too.
"Do I know them?"
"Probably." Save. Now onto the usual talk about safety and girls going out with
boys they hardly now.
"Was that friend, by any chance, a son of our neighbor and my patient?" He was
still smiling warmly but Violet's face turned white. He must had been bluffing
to get answers from her. There was no chance he would know. Jesus, Ben cared
only about his ass.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He chuckled but the smile didn't
reach his eyes.
"So you never listened to our therapy sessions?" Violet felt blindfolded. "I
knew you were attracted to…this kind of people. So I thought that letting you
listen to them talk, openly, with me, would change your mind. Apparently, I was
wrong." His voice raised a tone and Violet felt like dissolving into a puddle.
"You think I'm stupid. Blind. Ignorant. Maybe I'm in some instances, but not
this one." Anger was now detectable in his words "I've seen more than enough to
come to this conclusion. So tell me, Violet, what did I say about my patients?"
She was completely quiet. Not like he wanted to hear the answer anyway. They
both knew what he had said. "I said that my family is not allowed to interact
with my patients." He exhaled slowly. "And they are not allowed to interact
with them because I treat fucking difficult cases. Who do you think Tate is? A
loner? Romantic with shattered soul?" He made pouty mouth and Violet hung her
head. "He's a fucking psychopath, that's what he is. Minutes in one room with
him and I knew. The worst kind. Person who kills animals and sometimes people
for sheer excitement of it! And I can tell you one thing, I don't have proof
that he had done any of that, but I can bet my ass that he would." Violet felt
as if she had taken the punch. She was aware of Tate's problems before, but
hearing it loud and clear made her stomach turn. Even more so now that she was
involved with him. Even more so because she didn't see him the way Ben did. She
had to protect him. Protect them. She raised her head and smiled.
"Whatever you think you know, you don't know anything. I was out with my
fucking friends, having fun like a normal teenager," she made a long pause to
let the information sink in. "And I don't care what you think about it. You
can't cage me in here like you caged mom." Ben was staring at her in awe, his
mouth closing and opening. He wasn't expecting the words that came out of her
mouth. He thought he had it all calculated, categorized. He thought the answer
was in front of him. Wasn't it? Who was in the wrong here? Did he believe in
something that he wanted to believe in, or was she that good of a liar? He was
opening his mouth to speak when Violet stood up and marched angrily out of the
kitchen. Ben heard loud thumps that her feet made on the stairs. He waited for
the loud bang on the door, which happened seconds after.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi! I haven't update in a while. I know. Believe me when I say that I
     know. People on here don't seem to explain themselves too much, but I
     will. You, my readers, are why I exist. I'd be a big nothing if it
     weren't for you. And I owe you an explanation. If you don't want to
     read it all, just skip to the story.
     I've had a crazy time last and this month with my job, social life,
     and university starting. To be painfully honest, writing became a
     chore. No sugar-coating. It became a chore. I promised myself that
     I'd update once a week, but I couldn't keep it up. Weeks were passing
     way too quickly and before I could think about what I really wanted
     to be in a chapter, I had to update. So, I decided to give myself a
     break. Let it become a pleasure again. Believe me when I say that
     neither writers or readers like forced work. You can see it and you
     can feel it.
     Chapter 16 was written over a span of almost a month, a few sentences
     here and there. I'm happy with it and I believe we are on the climax
     of the story. I originally planned to do one more chapter that would
     close it all nicely, BUT I'm not sure if it'll contain everything I
     want. So, there may be one longer chapter, or there may be two
     chapters. Or maybe a chapter and an epilogue. I'll have to think
     about it. That being said, I've 3 different ideas on how the story
     should end. I debated over all of them and one caught my attention to
     the point where I'm 99% sure I'll use it. BUT I'm afraid that not
     everyone may like it. It will definitely fit with how I imagined this
     story, but my ideas, and readers expectations, well...we know how it
     goes. So, I'm thinking of writing alternate endings and uploading
     them all, if that's something that you'd be interested in. Please,
     let me know!
     Warning: general warning for triggering content. Drugs, alcohol,
     abuse, sinister intentions - you name it. I just think it has a very
     big emotional impact so be aware of that.
 
Violet had a full-blown rage quit. She rarely acted on her emotions but Ben's
word stung. They stung and she didn't know whether she should scream, destroy
her things, or roll on the floor, kicking her legs in the air. She paced around
the room impatiently, waiting to cool down. At this point, she didn't care
whether Ben truly knew about them. Maybe he connected the dots and wanted to
see her reaction. Maybe he knew for sure and took his chance to lecture her.
Maybe he wanted Violet to convince him that all of this wasn't true. But it
was. And she didn't care, she really didn't. All she cared about was that
secrets ran deeper than she had ever imagined. She sat on the floor and kicked
off her boots. She swung and there she was, laying down, staring at the
ceiling, her fingers tapping on the wooden floor. Was she delusional? She sure
was taking part in this madness, she soaked in it, more than that – she
absolutely loved it. She loved Tate. She truly loved him. But wasn't love
supposed to be pure? Wasn't it supposed to be sincere? Weren't people involved
supposed to trust each-other? That's what she hated about her parents. Lies.
Delusions. Broken promises. Violet would never see herself as romantic, jesus,
no. She wasn't romantic. Yet she hated that there was always something escaping
her. Like shadow, Tate's past was creeping from all around her, and when she
could almost catch a glimpse of it, it would disappear. The allure of unknown
was what drown her to him, but each knew secret was taking it's toll on her.
Violet wanted to know.
===============================================================================
Tate knew that the day was coming. He was grading some terribly boring papers
when the realization hit him. She already confronted him about Hayden. Whether
he refused those allegations or not didn't really matter. Her question was an
indication of distrust. He shouldn't have felt so surprised. He knew straight-
away that she was observant. Curious. Violet was smart. And he knew from the
day one that getting involved would not only destroy her, but him as well. He
stood up, walked to the fridge, and reached for the bottle of beer, sensing
madness creeping inside his head. There was no way out for him. For them. She
would confront him and he wouldn't find it in himself to keep it together. He
wasn't afraid of getting caught. No, it wasn't the case at all. He was afraid
of losing her. The thought ignited panic in him. His muscles tensed and he
could feel the blood hitting his brain like a wave. Violet was the only light
he had ever known and realization that she could leave him was over-bearing. He
had to do something, anything, to keep her close. He exhaled through clenched
teeth and slowly walked into his bedroom. As any other time, his ritual was
carried out with the same carefulness. Open the box, take out capsules. Pour
them on the nightstand's surface, take a rolled dollar. Inhale, inhale, inhale.
Lay down. As his body began to relax, his twisted mind produced an idea.
Suicide. Leaving this world with your beloved one, what a way to go. Dorky
smile spread across his face as The Smith's song started to play in his head.
Tate was quick to plan things out. He still had some time to collect needed
items. A carefully designed pill cocktail, recipe that he knew by heart. As it
turned out, a mix of suicidal and homicidal could come handy at times. Maybe
some nice music? Him and Violet had similar tastes, he was sure that there was
CD in his collection that would make her completely relaxed. Drinks? Maybe
wine. One glass to ease off her muscles. He nearly squealed in excitement.
There it was. A way out.
===============================================================================
Violet was walking around their back garden. Sun was slowly setting and she
enjoyed the comfortable warmth. Her attention focused on scarlet roses that
must've been planted by previous home-owners. Vivien took great pride in
bringing them to life. Actually, her mother took great pride in all of the
renovations that followed their stay. Murder House still had it's undeniable,
bloody charm, but was now surrounded by flourishing flowers and bushes that
made it look way more habitable. She kneeled and caressed her fingers around
delicate petals. For once, her thoughts weren't running and she enjoyed a
moment of peace. Violet turned around, alarmed by sound of steps and her eyes
locked with Vivien's, standing over her with a warm smile on her face.
"Apparently you leave your room sometimes," she said. Her words didn't sound
mean at all and Violet was glad that her mother didn't come to argue. Or so it
seemed. She stood up and shook her skirt.
"The weather's nice." Vivien nodded her head and they started walking toward
the house. Her face was still lit by a small smile, but she was definitely
thinking about something. She was holding onto her wedding ring, moving it up
and down her finger.
"Dad told me," she said finally. Of course he did, fucker. Violet didn't
outwardly react to her words, she didn't even look at her. "I didn't come here
to lecture you," Vivien took a deep breath "I just thought that we would talk…
like mother and daughter." They stopped by the back porch and Violet sat on the
stairs.
"So?" Her tone was accusing. "Talk". Vivien smirked and looked down on her
shoes. Then she raised her head and looked at Violet.
"I know how it is, first love." Yeah, sure. "I don't know if he's the right
match for you, with history of mental illness and all," she gave her a crooked
smile. "But there are tons of men out there, sometimes the nice ones turn out
to be the worst." Violet was staring at her, trying to read her face. "And
after all, at least we know him. Kinda. We know his family, he's been to our
house. Ben probably knows his most personal secrets." No, he doesn't. He really
doesn't. "It's not really my place to decide whether he's a good person or not.
But you know him and I trust you." Violet wasn't sure whether Vivien was trying
her or was she sincere. She waited for her mother's next words. Vivien sat down
next to her and took her hand. "I know that you despise me and your dad getting
back together. I know that maybe that's your way of rebelling. But sometimes,"
she swallowed "Sometimes life happens. And you don't throw everything out the
window because of someone's slip. It was hard for me. It really was, and
believe me, I was thinking of leaving countless times, but in the end I looked
past it. I really love your dad, Violet." What a cliché, talk of endless love
from her mother herself. But Violet had to admit, it reasoned with her on some
level. Maybe life truly wasn't black and white. Maybe it was time to grow up
and just swallow the bitter pill. Maybe fueling her rage over and over again
wasn't really about her parents, but about Violet herself. She threw her hands
over Vivien and hugged her tightly. And she felt safe. And she felt good. Like
a little child and grown woman at the same time.
===============================================================================
Tate felt fixated. Waves of happiness were rushing through his body as he made
his way into Harmons' garden. He felt like a naughty teenager, creeping by a
man's house to steal his teenage daughter. The thought filled him with
nostalgia, and he remembered the good times he had, rarely but still, before
the thing happened. He stood right below her window. His window back in the
day. All lights were off, and he knew that Violet was asleep. He would be
surprised if she wasn't and probably mad since he wanted everything to be just
as he had imagined. Tate had collected pebbles from Harmons' carefully crafted
pathway and was now throwing them onto her closed window. They made an
unpleasant sound and jolted back onto the ground. No movement inside her room.
She must've awoken but probably shook it off in her hazed state. He threw a
handful once again, and once again. Finally, the window slid open with a
screech and Violet's head popped out. She instantly looked down and when she
saw Tate, her face turned from delighted to angry in a matter of seconds.
"What the fuck," she hissed "What are you even doing?" He chuckled.
"Dress up and come downstairs." She had a look of disbelief on her face, her
mouth opening, before she finally closed the window with a thump. Tate knew
that she would come. She had to.
===============================================================================
Violet was sitting with her arms crossed. A date on the beach. In the middle of
the night. What a marvelous idea! Tate didn't pay attention to her obvious
irritation as he drove through silent streets. He wasn't even there, as his
thoughts wandered far away. In fact, they did that days ago. Silence did Violet
good. She had time to reflect on the obviously romantic gesture. Romantic in
Tate's twisted way. Soon she was smiling and grabbing his hand, gazing at his
face, half-visible in the street-lights. They parked in the dark cul-de-sac and
slowly walked to the beach. Violet didn't know why Tate decided on walking the
distance, instead of parking closer, but she brushed it off as yet another of
his bizarre ideas. He probably believed it to be romantic, almost movie-like
with the sounds of waves crashing against the shore, and sky full of stars
above their heads. Finally, they settled in a secluded area, fair distance from
the water. As she observed, they couldn't be seen from above, nor directly from
the sea-shore. Someone would have to walk to that part of beach on purpose to
find them. Odd, considering the time. But then again, sunset was close and
maybe he knew that people would start their hellishly early jogging sprees and
dog-walkings soon enough. It seemed as if Tate had planned everything in
detail, planting various items on washed-off, red blanket. He plugged his I-pod
into a little, portable speaker; laid-out a bottle of, presumably, very good
wine, and a pack of cigarettes, and topped it off with neatly packed
sandwiches, filled with peanut-butter and jelly from the looks of things.
Violet couldn't help but chuckle at his efforts. When he was done, he looked
into her eyes with his heart-melting, dimple filled smile and grabbed his face
into his hands. The kiss that he planted on her lips was sweet and long, and
Violet felt dizzied when they finally parted. Tate turned around to turn on the
music. Then he opened the bottle and handed her a plastic cup filled nearly to
the top. She laughed and took a sip, and soon they were chatting and laughing,
and Violet felt so good and care-free she almost didn't feel like herself.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, when she noticed that Tate was staring at her
intensely, his eyes so full of affection it made her stop half-sentence.
"I love you," he said completely soberly, and her stomach twisted. She knew
that he cared for her, hell, she knew that he probably loved her but hearing
that was something entirely new. She was awestruck for a moment before she
repeated after him.
"I love you," her voice was trembling, but he didn't care as he hugged her
tightly and kissed the top of her head. They stayed like this for a moment, her
heart racing from the overflow of emotions. She came back to reality when she
felt him reaching into his pocket. He moved back and Violet had to squint her
eyes to see what he was holding. It was a small bag, packed with various oval
shapes. She looked at him disorientated. Did he want to take drugs? Now? Violet
sure wasn't against experimenting, but the fact that he had a bag filled with
pills made her uneasy. He gave her a completely oblivious smile before he
spoke.
"I created this, this cocktail," his voice was full of excitement "And I
thought that it'd be great if you wanted to take this with me." Panic started
to set in her body. He didn't seem completely sane, in fact, there was that
craziness in his eyes that she knew all too well.
"A cocktail? Why would we want to take a cocktail of drugs, Tate?" He snorted
as if she said the silliest thing imaginable and she had to move back a notch.
"I don't want us to be apart, Violet," his voice was almost soothing "If we
take this then we can be together for…for always." Her heart started beating
loudly in her chest and she couldn't fathom his proposal. Tate was crazy. He
really was crazy and she felt as if her limbs refused to move.
"You want us to commit suicide?" Her voice was now filled with complete and
utter disbelief. Tate blinked as if he wasn't sure what he heard. He looked at
the bag and then at her.
"We are running out of options," he said finally "They will find out sooner or
later. We must do this if we want to be together." Thoughts were racing through
Violet's heard and she didn't know if he was joking, or if he had for good
crossed the line between crazy and sane.
"What they," she uttered "What are you talking about?" Tate hung his head and
breathed in slowly.
"Violet, I'm changed now. I don't do this anymore. Not since we've become so
close."
"You don't do what, Tate," she nearly shouted. Violet was on edge and she felt
sick to her stomach sitting there, having this crazy-ass conversation with the
guy she thought she loved. Tate was gazing at her as his eyes turned wet. He
looked like a child who did something bad and was now being confronted.
"I didn't, I didn't want to do this to her, I," his voice trembled. "It just
happened, she told me she was pregnant and I just couldn't, my head was
spinning and the voices. The voices were mocking me, and pushing me, and… And
they never left me. Those other girls did nothing wrong. I just, they…" He was
nearly hysterical and Violet felt icing coldness spreading throughout her body.
Hayden. He was talking about Hayden. He really did it. He did it. He killed her
and it was done with a cold blood. And the…other girls? What other…The
realization dawned on her and she let out a squeal. Those girls. Girls missing
from their area. Girls like her. His therapy with Ben and the conversations
they had. Him being in all those god-forsaken, shit-hole bars.
"No. No, no, no," she was whispering to herself. Tate crawled to her, his read
eyes focused on her face. "No," she said as she clumsily tried to stand up.
"No."
"Violet," he said "Violet, please." His hands landed on her thighs, trapping
her in place and she let out a blood-hurling scream. "Don't, Violet, please
don't," he said as fear made its way into his voice. "Don't scream." Violet was
in a full-on panic mode. He had to do something. He had to make her stop. His
hands covered her face as she tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Stop, please,"
he covered her mouth and nose with his hand, and she started to choke. She was
choking on her own tears as he pulled her down on the blanket.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as her vision started to blur. "I'm so sorry,
Violet."
***** Chapter 17 *****
It really has been some time since I updated. I could go into details on why I
left it without the final chapter, but who really cares. It is here now!
I must admit that this chapter has been in the works for the past year. Maybe I
shouldn't say "in the works," I'd just open it sometimes and re-read what I
wrote. Edit some stuff. But the real issue was that I couldn't decide how I
wanted to end the story. In reality, that was the reason why I originally left
it. I was pondering whether I wanted to take a dive and do something that I
really wanted to do. I actually had three ending ideas and they were so
drastically different that I couldn't decide. Welp, finally I did. I am really
happy to have finished this, even if after two years. I know that it seems as
if the ending gives possibility of the sequel, but I wouldn't count on that
myself haha. I outgrown this story and while it is my first and my loved one, I
don't think I could keep it up any longer. Anyway, that's enough of the rumble.
I am sorry if it seems as if I am going to give you a masterpiece, given all
that time. It really isn't. But it is how I wanted it to be.
Without further ado, here is the epilogue. Thank you for being on this journey
with me.
Warning: this chapter touches on some highly sensivite subject. Don't read if
you are triggered by mentions of self-harm or suicide.
===============================================================================
Violet desperately grasped for air. Her throat burned and she started to cough
uncontrollably. She was lying on her side, body curled in spasms. That awful
scratchy feeling wouldn't go away. All that she dreamt of was a glass of water.
Amazing how endangered mind thinks of the simplest solutions. Drink first, then
run. Run. Violet breathed with a hissy sound. She did again and suddenly
realized that she was breathing really fast. Run. Her body was already aware of
the situation; it was her mind that needed some time catching up. When it did,
she sat up straight. Her vision blurred and when her eyes finally focused, she
knew what was happening. She knew where she was. Violet was sitting on Tate's
bed, light from the window falling onto the bedding. She focused on prickles of
dust bathing in the sunrays; the way the sheets weren't ironed properly,
wrinkling in some places. Everything was perfectly in focus. She saw things
more clearly than ever, all of her senses heightened. Tate was nowhere to be
seen. He made it so everything inside was in its place, no clutter, no hiding
space. Yet, she was waiting for him to open the bathroom door; crawl from under
the bed; perhaps even jump from behind the curtains. But it wasn't happening.
It wouldn't happen. At last, she came back completely to her senses. Back into
her body and head. Violet really needed to drink. She stood up slowly, her
muscles burning. Her head was spinning. She never considered the effects of
asphyxiation. Her slow steps made an echoing sound in an empty apartment,
falling deaf when she localized the sink. Icy water run down her face and into
her mouth, she was swallowing hungrily till it made her stomach sick.
===============================================================================
Why would he leave her alone? He had it all figured out. Why would he just drop
it? Violet didn't know why she was even trying to understand his thinking.
Suddenly, it was so clear to her that for some time now, she knew who Tate
really was. And in the same moment, the realization came that she was nothing
but a little girl who ignored all the signs just to get a thrill. How fucking
cliché to get involved with a wrong guy to spite people around her. How mature.
She would laugh at her own idiocy if her throat didn't hurt so much.
A wave of emotions was coming through her as she sat on a cold, bathroom floor.
Violet was stuck in the mind of her own; going through all the things that
she's been through with Tate; putting together all the pieces of the puzzle
that now made perfect sense. She felt like a kid in hiding that was waiting for
some sort of fucked-up punishment. She didn't know whether it was minutes or
hours later when she heard the door being opened. Weirdly enough, her body
didn't activate the flight or fight response. She felt emotionless as she
listened to his footsteps on the wooden floor. If she had any expectations
left, she would now wait for him to rush, or quite the opposite, to creep
slowly into the apartment. But he didn't do that. He walked in as if it was a
regular afternoon, end of a long day's work. She heard him approach the bed.
"Violet?" his voice was raspy and quiet and for a second she wondered whether
she just imagined that. "Violet?" he asked again. It was as if she was no
longer an audience in someone's story but an active character. She was pushed
back into the flow of events, realizing that she might have missed her only
chance to escape. Fear started bubbling up in her stomach again as she
swallowed quietly. Blood seemed to pump in her ears, making her deaf to events
happening around her. She didn't have a chance to organize her thoughts on what
to do, when bathroom doors opened. Violet saw Tate no more than a few hours
earlier, but he seemed so different. His face hollowed and eyes empty. Once
appealing hair were now a mess of sweaty, sad curls, falling depressingly onto
his forehead and ears. His hands were painted in blue veins, twisting around
the wrists and sliding down to his bloody knuckles. His whole posture seemed
different; shoulders bent as if he was carrying a terrible weight. In the short
moment of her mind's clarity, Violet wondered whether he's always been like
this and she just never noticed.
He approached slowly and lifted her by the arms, the feeling of his touch
unpleasant. It reminded her of washing the dishes and how sometimes her fingers
would stumble upon a piece of wet food. She didn't know whether he would
attempt to choke her again, only to succeed this time, or whether he wanted
something else. She dwelled on the thought of dying proud, just so he would see
no fear; just so he wouldn't enjoy it. That was the last try of an adolescent
mind to anger whoever was involved with her. But it didn't come to that, he
took her hand into his and walked her out of the bathroom. Violet felt as if
she had been given one last chance to run, but yet again, for reasons unknown
to her, she stood in place and waited. Tate let go off of the hand and slowly
walked to his bed. He started to methodically remove all the pillows and
covers, leaving on only the sheets. He smoothed them out and then passed Violet
on his way to the bathroom. It seemed as if once again she turned into an
audience of a play perfectly orchestrated by Tate. She heard him shuffle
through the cabinet and then he was in the room again, removing his clothes
quickly, but folding them neatly enough. She was struck by a realization that
this almost spiritual performance of removing stuff was the last thing that
Tate would do in his life. At last, he sat on the bed, a small pack of
unidentified something in his hands. He looked at her face with a smile. It was
warm, possibly on of the warmest smiles he has ever given her.
"You are everything I have ever wanted," he muttered. "You are everything I
have had." Violet's insides turned around. It was then that not only did she
know Tate truly loved her, but also that his utterly twisted mind gave him no
choice. If he couldn't have her in a way that he wanted, he would leave
altogether. There was no other way out for him, and his complete awareness of
the fact made her feel almost sorry for him. In another time she would have
screamed and kicked to stop him, but now Violet felt as it was Tate's only
chance at redemption. He ripped the small package and a shiny razor blade
slipped out onto his lap. He picked it up and it caught a glimpse of the
shining sun. Tate seemed to consider whether it was sharp enough, and satisfied
with what he saw, he finally laid down. His eyes closed slowly before giving
her a one last glance, and Violet knew that it was her time to go. She could
have said something. She could have asked why he changed his mind, or why he
had done what he had done. But in the end, Violet knew that no answer would
satisfy her, and no matter the outcome of their conversation, it was all lost
and gone now. Just by being there while he prepared for what had to come, she
felt as if she had given him the final act of mercy. She was the last person to
see him alive.
===============================================================================
She didn't recall her journey home or whether she talked with someone on the
way to her room. Maybe it was only after she had left that she finally
realized. She faced death twice in one day; both times from him. Only that at
first it was aimed at her, and then it was aimed at Tate himself. A realization
struck her that she didn't truly want to die. She thought about it a lot, she
played with fire when given a chance, but in the end – death was so final; it
seemed so scary and cruel. She nearly despised herself for cutting, for ruining
herself. She felt sick with the fact that the thing she played with so
carelessly was a thing that ended someone's life. Violet wondered whether she
felt anything toward him at all. If she did, she would have stopped him. No
matter his deeds, she always thought it to so stupid to punish death with
death. Yet she didn't stop him. She stood there and watched; the angel of death
herself. Violet chuckled at the thought. Surprisingly, there weren't any
unpleasant emotions anymore. She didn't shake, didn't feel numb, or
dumbfounded. There was nothing of that fear left. She honestly wanted to laugh.
If she could, she would laugh in Constance's face. Clearly that bitch knew. She
knew about Hayden. She probably knew about all the others. If Violet had to
point fingers, she would say that Constance was directly involved. Her and her
precious son. Suddenly everything that transpired felt so absurd. It was as if
everyone around her knew something that she didn't, and she wanted to laugh
again at her own, deep immaturity. Had she had friends, she would tell them the
crazy story of the murderous lover and his sociopathic mother. Her very fucking
own coming-out-of-age story. Instead, Violet decided she had to tell her
parents; her mother at least. Tate would be found soon enough, and as far as
she knew, Constance would blame her for all of it. Violet didn't feel the need
to be there for his funeral. She had no desire to visit his grave. She didn't
want to face Constance, and she definitely didn't want for Ben to face her.
Maybe it would be a right step to deal with everything that had happened. Then
again, what was some more undealt with emotional baggage to Violet? As far as
she was concerned - it was over. And she couldn't wait to get out.
===============================================================================
It wasn't much later when she talked to Vivien. Violet didn't have it in her to
make things sound better than they really were. So she told her mother the
truth. She told her how they really met and all the things they did. She flatly
explained his whole suicidal ordeal. Violet did it so Vivien would not get any
more shaken that she already appeared to be. She expected questions, thousands
of them, but instead her mother sat there with eyes wide open, hands holding
the coffee cup tightly. Poor Vivien was probably expecting to hear of some
silly teenage troubles.
"We need to tell dad," said Violet after a few minutes of silence. "Where is
he?" she followed. Vivien shook her head slightly, finally awoken from her
dream-like state. She nervously fixed her hair. Violet rolled her eyes as if
the conversation wasn't a real kick in the gut of her mother's newly-found
peace that California offered. "Mom," she pressed "do you even…" Vivien stood
up from the chair and looked around. "Start packing your things," she blurted
and went out of the room.
===============================================================================
Things happened quickly. She was half-done with putting her things into a
suitcase when the door opened with a slam. Ben walked in, visibly relieved to
see her. Violet expected some serious questioning, but he only hugged her
tightly. For a moment she really felt like hugging him back. She let him hold
her for longer that was necessary.
"Baby, you need to keep moving" he said while taking a step back. "This is time
sensitive." Violet nodded her head and went back to packing. She didn't know
whether she would be coming back or not. She hoped for the latter. Soon she was
carrying her things downstairs. Vivien was pacing nervously around the
driveway. On the other side of the road, Addie was playing on the lawn. She was
running around aimlessly, spinning, and laughing loudly. It was a bittersweet
sight. Violet couldn't forget what she had learned of the Langdons.
Vivien breathed audibly and crossed her arms. "Get in," she said pointing at
the car. Ben was approaching them after closing the door and checking them.
Twice. He then put one more bag into the trunk and finally took the driver's
seat. Vivien put on sunglasses and sunk into the seat. The car started slowly
onto the road. Violet looked at Constance's house. It stood proudly as ever,
its façade bathed into the orange hue of the slowly setting sun. The curtains
upstairs were closed, but she swore she saw a figure in the downstairs window.
It might have been her imagination.
They were soon passing the well-known housing district. Violet once again
focused on the perfect green gardens and children playing on the sidewalks. She
observed men and women walking down the street, chatting carelessly. Ben turned
down the radio.
"You and mom are going to visit grandma," he started. "I will stay behind"
Vivien shifted uncomfortably in her seat "…for now." He looked into the rear
mirror and Violet caught his eyes. "They have no case against you," Ben
followed "but I want you out of this place immediately." Violet wondered how he
always tried to play a strict father. Do this baby, do that. You need to take
responsibility. Funny how that worked, it seemed that she was taking none this
time. "I will set a meeting with an estate agent," he rumbled. Vivien nodded
her head and looked into the window. "The market is not in the best condition
right now, but the property was recently renovated so it shouldn't be a problem
to…" Violet started to tune him out. She dug the iPod and earphones out of her
pocket. As the song started to play, she rested her head against the seat. She
was catching last glimpses of the city that she would probably never see again;
the place that she would try to erase from the memory. Her eyes started to
close slowly. She felt calm.
 
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