So I discovered AHS on Netflix last weekend... And now I've watched all three seasons. #Obsession xD Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this story! :)
Smoke disappears into the grainy wood of her room's ceiling as Violet finishes off her third cigarette in about thirty minutes. She has been smoking considerably more since she had banished Tate from her that fateful night, but she knows it can't hurt her, what with being dead and all. Despite kissing him once more since then, she still can't seem to fill the hole that is open in her unbeating heart. After all, that kiss hadn't meant anything. It was just to help that other boy. Nothing more.
A single tear drops from the bridge of her nose and onto her poetry journal, and she silently curses herself as she rids her eyes of the assassin tears. A choked sob escapes her, and she slams the journal shut, the noise surprisingly loud and resonant.
"Come on, Violet. You brought this on yourself," she tells herself over and over. However, her mind's eye repeatedly manifests the absolutely destroyed look in Tate's blacker-than-sin eyes. She very well knows that his whole world had been stolen from him, and that's why it still kills her to this day, thirteen years after the whole incident had taken place.
The lighter takes a couple of flicks before a flame lights and proceeds to provide Violet with her next stick of relief, however short it might last. Once she has collected her thoughts and shoved them into her mind's trash compactor, she reopens her poetry book, grabs her pen, and begins scribbling furiously, letting her hands do the work while she drifts off to some other place.
She's in a dark room, but the room is not her own. It's her parents' bedroom back in Boston. Her eyes adjust, and the scene before her makes her want to vomit. The bed is a mess of sheets and random articles of clothing, and the rapid up and down motion is creating an unspeakably loud creaking noise.
"Oh God, don't stop, Ben! Oh GOD!" It is Hayden moaning and calling her father's name.
"Ben?" her mother calls from down the hallway, and Violet's whole chest tenses up. She urges her legs to move, but she is completely rooted to the spot. This is it. She's about to witness the cataclysmic moment that resulted in an almost permanent rift in their family.
"Violet!"
Violet's heart skips a beat. Who is calling her name?
"Violet!" the voice calls again, and Violet recognizes the name this time.
"Tate?" she calls back, almost desperate to speak to him again.
"I'm here," he says, and suddenly he is there, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her gently on the forehead like he always had before.
"Tate, but... what... how are you...?" she sputters out, her mind too jumbled to form a coherent sentence in this moment.
"Shhh, shhh. Don't you worry about that. I'm here now, and that's all that matters," he says, and he lifts his chin off of her head and smiles down at her.
"Are you going to leave again?" Violet asks as she returns his gaze.
"Shhh, shhh. Don't you worry about that. I'm here now, and that's all that matters," he repeats, and Violet cocks her head slightly.
"Um, Tate? You just said tha-" she starts, but he cuts her off and says the same thing again. And again. And again. The sentence begins to sound nothing like words, and soon his voice is distorting as the room around Violet melts.
"Tate? TATE!" she yells, and his smiling face is now in front of her but not in front of her at the same time. Suddenly, Violet sees Tate, but he is not alone. He is sticking his entire tongue down Hayden's throat, but now Hayden is gone, and just Tate stands before Violet.
"Go away, Violet," he says with a ghoulish grin. Violet is almost sure that she can hear her heart breaking.
"Tate, no. Please, I'm so sorry. I'm SORRY!" she pleads, but his grin isn't faded.
"Go away, Violet. Go away! GO AWAY!" he yells, his grin morphing now into a malicious scowl.
Tears are streaming down Violet's face as Tate disappears. Suddenly, as if an invisible trapdoor had capsized under her, she is falling. She knows she is falling, but the only thing that leads her to that conclusion is the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knows this feeling from drops on roller coasters, from descending in an airplane... from telling Tate to go away.
"VIOLET!" A deep voice yells in her ear, and strong hands grip her shoulders and shake her roughly.
Violet gasps and sits up, sweat dropping from her bangs to her exposed thighs. She's slow to take in her surroundings, but when she finally comes to her senses, she sees her father in his pajamas and her mother in a nightgown that her grandmother had worn ever since Violet could remember.
"What... Sorry guys. I guess I had a bad dream," Violet confesses, suddenly self-conscious about what she might have done for them to hear her all the way down the hall. Her father folds his hands over the back of his neck and exhales deeply.
"Okay, baby. You scared the shit out of us," he says, and Violet smiles slightly.
"Why didn't you tell me this was what it took?" Violet asks sarcastically, starting to relax a little, "I would've done it years ago!"
Her mother laughs and her dad playfully punches her shoulder before they retreat hand in hand back to their own rooms.
"What just happened?" Violet asks aloud.
"Looks like you got sucked into your own little hell," says a voice next to her, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. She looks to her left, and Chad is sitting on her desk chair, neatly dressed and coiffed as always.
"What are you talking about?" she asks, and he laughs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"You got sucked into hell, girl. But let me tell you, hell isn't like those Christians make it out to be. It's thirteen times worse. Every person has their own little hell designed for them, and you just got an up-close-and-way-too-personal look at yours. Now think about that, but for all eternity. Makes eternity in 'The Murder House'," he gestures mockingly with his hands, "seem like a cakewalk, doesn't it? Well lucky you, those little hell trips don't occur often, so consider yourself lucky that you experienced it early. You're good for a couple more centuries, probably," he finishes, and with that, he stands and begins to stroll out of the room, whistling the tune to a Talking Heads song.
"Wait," Violet calls after him, and he spins around nonchalantly, leaning his back against the door frame. "Have... have you experienced yours before? Your hell?" she asks nervously, but he just laughs that all-knowing laugh again.
"Girl, don't you see what goes on around here? I'm living in my hell," he says, and he stalks out of the room, where Violet is left with her thoughts. Some unknown force makes her look up at the chalkboard, and she wholeheartedly hopes for a message from Tate. But her wishes are downtrodden as her eyes scan the chalkboard and find nothing but green slate.
"You brought this on yourself," Violet repeats one more time, and she lies back in her bed, determined to be dreamless for the remainder of the night.
I hope you liked it! :D ALSO, I'm debating whether or not I should do a soundtrack to this story or not! Let me know through reviews or PM's whether or not I should include one! Usually I get my ideas from music, and I want you guys to experience it as it was meant to be. :) Thanks for reading!