I've been waiting for someone to move into the house, after the gay couple died. I went to the funeral. We all say it was a tragic death, but really I don't care. I don't think I have ever cared before. Maybe it was because I killed them.
Killing is a beautiful thing. I don't understand what others don't see about it that makes them attracted to death. I think it's been a year I have been waiting for new prey to move into this old, cursed home. I hate how I am stuck here, that I can never leave this place.
I could leave, I'm sure of it. It's just our souls are drawn back to this house for whatever reason. That's if, I even have a soul anymore.
I don't think I ever even had a soul to begin with. I think I am heartless, shit kind of person. And that's what I hate about me. I'm horrible, and it's really no wonder why nobody bothers to speak with me. I think of so many ways to blame others for my problems, but really I am a straight up asshole. I blame my mom, and for everything that's she's done to me.
But I think I really have nobody to blame but myself. My mother never told me to go to school and kill 15 kids at school. And that's what makes me a monster. I killed so many kids, and I felt nothing. I don't regret it.
I stand the hall, waiting for the new family to move in. The workers bring the boxes in, but I don't move knowing I am invisible to the human eye. I am only seen when I want to be seen, and I am not seen when I do not want to be noticed.
I watch the new family move into their house, and unpack their things. The daughter catches my eye, and it's like I'm instantly awake. I feel like I have been in a coma, and been awakened by the sight of her. There's something different about her, I can tell. She seems so different from everyone else, and I am intrigued by her.
I follow her up the stairs, wondering what room she will pick. She walks into the first room she sees. She examines it, and looks around. The room she picked was my old room, the room that I was shot to death in. She sets the few boxes she was carrying down, and slides her back against the wall, and begins to cry. I want to comfort her, but I can't.
Her mother calls her down stairs, and she goes to grab more boxes. I stand at the top of the staircase, watching the workers place the furniture around the house, and watch my new prey.
I walk home, or next door. I live right next door, although I am really never at home. I am always wondering around, or mainly at the house I was killed in. When I walk in, my sister Addie is sitting at the table.
"Hey, Addie." I say. She was born with Down syndrome. I still think that she is beautiful. Addie is still smarter than anyone here, she sees everything differently, I don't know why.
"Hey ghost." She says, and laughs.
I turn around, and slam my fist on the table. "TATE," I shout "My name is Tate," I say trying to calm down.
I have had always had these anger management issues. I don't control them well, and I think that's part of what makes me a monster.
"You don't have to yell," Addie says, calmly. "I know what your name is."
I give a laugh, and sigh. "Where's the cocksucker?" I ask.
"You mean mom?" Addie questions as she gives a chuckle. "I think she's in her room."
"Probably blowing some guy." I murmur, as I go to her room.
I swing open the door, and see her sitting the bed.
"What the hell do you want?" My mother Constance says.
"Don't poison these next door neighbors," I say, as cross my arms.
"Why, dear? Do you want to kill them yourself? Just like gay couple?" She laughs.
I curl up my fists, so tempted to hurt her. I know that it's wrong, so I choose not to. I begin to walk out of the room when she calls me back in.
"Ben, the husband over in the cursed house, is a therapist or some silly shit like that," She says as she lights a cigarette. "I made an appointment for you to see him."
I say, "What? No I don't need a therapist!"
"You're entitled to your own wrong opinion. And that's fine. But I think this would help you, so you're going at 4:00."
"Fine, bitch." I tell her as I walk out of the room.
"Love you too, asshole." She shouts. I laugh at her stupidity. I can't believe that she would have the audacity to send be to me to a therapist. She wants to make our relationship stronger, but we all know that's never going to happen. She's never going to forgive me for anything I have done. Not that I'm sorry. And I will never forgive her for cheating on our family.
Things are really never going to be the same between us, and that's her fault, not mine. My mother Constance use to tell me I was her favorite child, until I was nine years old. I was the only one of her three kids that didn't have some kind of mental disorder.
I started rebelling, doing bad things, and always getting in trouble. I think she stopped loving me then. When I was older, she found out about my several suicide attempts, and my self -harming, she stopped caring about me. She even handed me a knife, and said if I really wanted to do this to myself, she wouldn't be the one to stop me. The only person, who decided to stop me, was Addie.
I go back the cursed house, and watch the people move in, and watch the girl. I heard her mother call her Violet, so I think that's her name. I walk into the living room, to find the original owner of the house, sitting on the couch. She begins to complaining to me about she is so lonely, and how she wishes she had a baby. I promised her I would get her a baby, and I will. I figured I owe it to her, since she is the original owner of the house.
And I kept my promise.
-Line-
It's about four o clock when I walk over to the cursed house for my therapy session. Ben takes me to his office, and lets me sit down on the couch. He sits across from me, holding a note pad and a pencil.
"You really moved in fast," I say looking around the room. I hate this room, so many bad memories in here. Actually, there are so many bad memories in this house.
"Yes, we did," He says. "So Tate," He begins "these fantasies started two years ago, three years ago, when?"
"Two years ago," I confirm. "It's always the same. It starts the same way."
"How? Tell me." He asks.
"I prepare for the noble war," I start. "I'm calm, I know the secret, I know what's coming. And I know no one can stop me, including myself." I sigh.
"Do you target people who have been mean to you or unkind?" asks Ben.
In my head, I laugh, because this actually happened.
"I kill people I like," I confirm. "Some of them beg for their life. I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything."
"It's a filthy world we live in," I say "It's a filthy goddam helpless world." The expression on Ben's face changes every time I say something. He jots down notes on his paper, although we both know nothing he can do will make any difference.
"And honestly," I continue, "I feel like I'm helping to take them away from the shit, and the piss, and the vomit that run in the streets. I'm helping to take them somewhere clean, and kind."
The expression on Bens face doesn't change, I think because he's wondering if I am right. He opens his mouth to speak when I continue.
"There's something about all that blood, man. I drown in it. And the Indians believed that the blood holds all the bad spirits, and once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free." I testify, with a smirk.
"There's something smart about that. Very smart. I like that." I say smiling.
He doesn't seem to respond, so I can only assume the worst. "You think I'm crazy?"
"No," He says. "I think you're creative. And I think you have a lot of pain you're not dealing with." He says. I don't believe him. I think he knows I am crazy, that I have lost my mind.
"My mother's probably worried about me, right?" I ask. I don't even know if she really loves me. I don't think she's worried about me.
"I'm sure she is" Ben says. I doubt that, she doesn't care.
"She's a cocksucker." Ben smiles and I laugh. "I mean, literally, a cocksucker. She used to suck off the guy next door, all the time. My dad found out and he left."
I laugh at the thought, of my dad leaving, that asshole. "He left me alone, with a cocksucker. Can you imagine? How sick is that?" I say this time laughing.
"I've heard a lot worse," Ben says.
"Cool. Can you tell me some? I like stories," I say, interested.
"No, I can't."
"This world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddam horror show. There's so much pain, you know? There's so much. " I say, referring to self-harm.
"Good talk, Tate. Our time is up. I will see you soon." He says. "And you're not crazy." I smile, knowing he's lying to me. How could I not be crazy? I killed so many people. It was wrong, I know but I don't care.
Before I leave, I decide to go look for that Violet girl. She's not in her room, which means she must be in the bathroom. I walk towards the bathroom, and see the door open ajar. I don't see much, but I see her making motions on her arm. I walk in, and see her dragging the blades horizontally across her skin.
"You're doing it wrong," I say, because I can't help but correct her. "If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up."
Violet sees me in the mirror, and whips around. "How'd you get in here?" She asks, confused.
"If you're trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door." I walk out, with the door creaking shut behind me.
I hear her breath hitch, and I turn invisible. She runs out of the bathroom, looking for me. She can look as much as she wants for me, but she won't ever see me. Violet turns on her heel, and goes into her room. I follow her into her room, and she closes the door.
She seems mad at herself. That's not what I meant to do at all- I didn't mean to make her hate herself more.
I use to cut myself. Hell, I use to mutilate myself. That was before I died. I mean, what's the point in self harming and trying to kill yourself if you're already dead. There is no point, I stopped. I tried it once or twice, but the cuts healed within minutes.
I hate being dead, I'm always cold. I can wear as many sweaters as I want, but nothing seems to work. I don't know why the swat team, when they killed me couldn't have taken me to a prison or some shit for me to die. Instead, they killed me in my room, on the spot, and I am to live forever as some sort of ghost.
I am not the only one who died in this house that will live eternally. Like the gay couple I killed, they think that this is still their house. And the original owners of the house, they don't even know they are dead. They walk among the living, and nobody seems to notice how cold, and pale they are.
I have no idea what makes this house so haunted. Whoever dies in this house, will live forever.
"I'm so stupid," Violet murmurs under her breath. "How could I let him catch me?"
She starts to cry, and it's almost like I can read her mind. I can't tell anyone about this, not even her Dad. I feel bad her, she thinks she deserves it. She doesn't deserve anything like this.
Of a sudden, I am mad at myself. Why didn't I stop her when I had the chance? I could have told her to stop, and told her how sorry I am for.
Her father is a son of a bitch. He hasn't even tried to notice, try to care. That shrinks head is so big, he doesn't even take the time to notice his own daughter's problems. He's too busy helping others, when he really just needs to help his own family.
Violet sits on her bed, reading. She falls asleep while reading her book, and I sneak out of the room.
As it grows late, I wander around the house. I go in the attic, and see my brother Beau. I find him asleep on the floor, so I walk home.
I walk into my room to Addie rummaging through my stuff.
"What's this?" She asks me, holding up a piece of newspaper.
"I don't know Addie! It's probably garbage!" I shout, angry she's going through my things. "Give it back you nosy little shit!"
I lunge to grab the paper from her, but she reads it. "15 kids murdered at Westfield High school, killed by Tate Langdon! You're a murder!" She shouts "You're a murderer!"
"Get the hell out of my room Addie, before I-"
"Before you what? Shoot me?" She says with anger. Addie hobbles out of my room and says to me while she looks me straight in the eyes, "You never were my brother,"
A/U: I feel like so many fan fics that I have read about Tate never really bring out his darkness. I think a lot of authors don't portray the dark side of him but I really wanted to do that. Please review! That would make my shitty day 3