How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here
~Wish you were here- Pink Floyd~
Tate sat with his knees to his chest in a corner of the basement. Tears rolled down his cheeks as Thaddeus leered at him from the far side of the dusty and dank Hell.
"I'm sorry" Tate's voice was hoarse as he pleaded to no one in particular. It had been four years since Violet told him goodbye. The words still stabbed at his heart. The voices taunted him, replaying them over and over and over. The voices. They were getting louder again each day. Tate's nails dug into his scalp as he tugged at his blonde curls.
Goodbye, Tate.
Goodbye Tate.
Goodbye Taint.
Goodbye
Goodbye
Taint
Goodbye-
"Shut UP! SHUT UP!" Tate stood up, anger flowing through him at the voices. Thaddeus shrunk back into his shadows. "Just please shut up" Tate sniffed, his anger fading fast into a deep exhaustion. It was all he'd been feeling lately. He flopped down on the concrete, tears rolling from his eyes to form dark patches on the dusty floor.
"You know, for someone as psychotic as you, you're a bit of a whinger" Tate moved his head so he could look up at her. He pushed himself up to a sitting position.
"Are you actually trying to call me psychotic? From the one who tracked down her fuck buddy and hung him from a chandelier?" Tate snorted.
"From the one who burned his mother's boyfriend, shot 15 people, killed two gay guys and then raped his girlfriend's mother?" Hayden smirked at him.
"I didn't want to touch Vivian! It's the suit, it's evil" Tate growled. It was true. When he had put the suit on it wiped him of all good thoughts and pumped his head with bad ones. It implanted a purpose in his brain, one he couldn't -no matter how hard he tried- go against. He hadn't wanted to hurt Patrick and Chad. Well, maybe a little thanks to their nonstop bitching but he never wanted to kill them . And he never wanted to hurt Vivian.
"Why don't you put it on and see what happens?" Hayden purred at him, her hand on his thigh. He pushed her away and she skidded 12 feet backwards.
"Fuck off Hayden. Don't you have better things to do? Like maybe pine after a guy who only wanted you as a stress-relief fuck? " Tate poured as much venom he could into the words. He smiled as tears filled her eyes and her hands shook. Though that was in rage.
"Seems we're both destined to love someone who won't love us back. How is our little gothic princess?" Hayden snarled.
"You stay away from her Hayden!" Tate stood up with his fists clenched shut.
"Have fun playing in the shadows, Tate" she blew a kiss and disappeared. He yelled without words and kicked the wall. A man in an old and bloody doctor's coat ducked his head around one of the doors.
"Sorry Charles I didn't-"
"What are you doing out of your restraints? Come along now" The old surgeon grabbed the teen hard by the arm. Tate struggled but he's been getting increasingly weaker. The doctor threw him into the bloody operating table and fastened his arms and legs tight to it with leather straps.
"Now you mustn't move a lot. Otherwise I may hit and artery, and we wouldn't want you bleeding to death, would we?" Dr. Montgomery lifted a scalpel.
"I'm afraid we've ran out of ether but close your eyes and this won't hurt a bit" Tate screamed in pain as the scalpel sliced into his stomach.
He felt warm blood seep from the gaping wound. He felt the doctor's gloved hand stretch open the cut and move around inside. Tate screamed again as the doctor's hand went in further, finding his intestines. Tate began to choke on blood, his gurgled screams turning into hacks and gasps for breath as the blood began to trickle into his lungs. His eyes began to close, black spots covering everything as memories replaced what would have been dreams.
-AmericanHorrorStory-
Five year old Tate sat on the sofa as Constance slept from her early Sunday wine. He waited a little bit longer before he moved. Constance and Hugo had just got into a HUGE fight about money and how Constance never worked and how Hugo was never home and whenever Tate had gone to move from the couch, both parents had directed their screaming match on him. It had been an hour since Constance had fallen asleep and Hugo had left for another late night at the bar. Tate slowly eased himself off the couch and tiptoed down to the bathroom. He was opening the bathroom door, his legs crossed, when a woman stumbled out. She was dressed in an old nurse's uniform and water dripped from her onto the tiles . Her eyes were black and her fingers tapered into long , black and sharp nails.
"Look what he done to me!" She screeched. Young Tate gave a yelp of surprise and ran down the hall, no longer worried about staying quiet.
"Mama! Mama help!" He sobbed. Constance was awake, her eyes surrounded by red from both crying and the alcohol.
"What is it, for Christ's sake?!" She snapped, holding one hand to her sore head.
"T-The woman. S-She- She just- and then-" Tate started sobbing.
"Tate Langdon! What did I tell you ?! Huh? ANSWER ME! I told you you're too old to be having accidents!" Constance yelled.
Confused, Tate looked down at his trousers and seen a wet patch. He no longer needed to use the bathroom. Constance grabbed her son by the wrist viciously, dragging him towards the dreaded cupboard.
"Mama no! I'm sorry" he sobbed, tugging on her sleeve. She opened the door and threw him in.
"Think about what you've done" she growled. "Your father will deal with you when he's back." The door closed and Tate was left on his own, surrounded by dozens of mirrors that all showed the same: a young, terrified boy with tears streaming down his pale cheeks. His father was the one he was truly terrified of. Although usually Tate's favourite parent whilst he was happy, when Hugo was angry Tate feared with all his heart. His father would hit him on the back and backside with his thick leather belt whenever he'd done something wrong. And it was always worse when his parents had fought. He stayed there whilst Constance had grabbed another bottle of red wine and was drinking herself into another alcohol induced stupor. She left him there for the rest of the night
-AmericanHorrorStory-
Tate slowly began to regain consciousness, although that was not yet a good thing. He gave another scream of agony.
"Charles what on earth are you doing?!" That voice sounded like a blessing from Heaven to Tate's ears. Nora.
"Now Nora, we agreed I could have my experiments. This is one of my volunteers" Charles gestured to Tate with a bloody hand.
"He is not your patient he is my son and I'm telling you to let him go Charles" Nora demanded.
"Your son? But Nora, my sweet, Thaddeus-"
"Thaddeus was my son but that stopped once you turned him into a monster. Now let Tate go" she growled, very unusual for Nora but Tate was grateful.
"If it pleases you" Charles ground out and undid Tate's restraints.
Tate scrambled up and then doubled over, puking up blood. Nora rubbed his back as he sobbed. God how he missed Violet. She was the light and he needed her like a person needed air. He was suffocating in the darkness and she was the only one who could pull him out.
Tate wiped his eyes. "Thanks Nora. I'm going to go upstairs now" He smiled at her weakly. She stroked his cheek with her thumb.
"Run along now" she dropped her arm and turned away from him. He walked up the basement stairs, each step painful as muscle and skin stitched back up. He went to the kitchen. Moira was there, wiping the counters.
"You'd better not have gotten blood on my floors" she tutted. Violet walked into the kitchen and Tate's heart stopped for a second time.
"Moira, mom wants to know if you-" She cut off mid-sentence as she seen Tate. God she was beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, to run his hands through her silken hair and get lost in her big, hazel eyes.
"Violet please. I'm so sorry. I really mean it. If-"
"Tate I'm not having this conversation with you. I told you to leave" she cut him off.
"But Violet I need you. This is Hell for me. I can't take it much longer" His voice cracked and tears spilled down his cheeks.
She hesitated and looked at his blood drenched jumper.
"What happened?" She asked, reaching out and then pulling her hand back.
"Charles thought I was one of his patients" Tate shrugged. He looked at her and smiled. Four agonizingly long years without being near her and now here she was, 4 foot away.
"Good. You deserve it" she swallowed, her words causing Tate to stumble backwards as though he'd been hit.
"My dad wants to see you" she said before disappearing. He sighed and put his back against a wall, sobbing into his shaking hands. He was aware of Moira watching him. He pushed himself away and trudged towards Dr. Harmon's office. He hesitantly knocked on the door.
"Dr. Harmon? You were looking for me?" Tate pushed open the door cautiously. Ben was inside, lounging comfortably in his chair.
"Ah. Yes Tate. I think it's time to start your therapy again. Although this time we are going to be using different methods. Come inside and take a seat" Ben gave a toothy smile. Tate stepped into the office.
So... What you guys think? Yes I apologize for the out-of-characterness. Please review. I hate to sound like the needy writer but I want to know your opinions, questions and ideas. There will certainly be Violate later though not yet. She can't just forgive him automatically. Please let me know if you want this continued. Okay? (Damn Fault in Our Stars, ruining that word for me :) I love John Green's books) Byyyyyeeee :D