He watched her as she sat reading a book quietly, her legs neatly tucked to her side. She was the very image of perfection, in his eyes. She had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth; her hair, a waterfall that cascaded around her face, which was a mask of concentration. Her caramel eyes were running rapidly across the page, devouring each printed word.
He knew he should give her space, she had told him to go away, after all. But, when you're trapped under the same roof with the person you care about most in the world, for eternity, sometimes you just can't help yourself.
He knew it was his fault. He ruined what he had with Violet and he realized that she had every reason to never talk to him again, but he couldn't help but get angry and exasperated every time she ignored him. Why couldn't she just forgive him, so things could go back to normal? Normal for them, anyway. He was still psychopath Tate, he understood that. The voices still rang in his head, and the visions still hadn't faded away, but he could change, he'd be good, he knew he could- for her.
He turned to go away and went to the attic. As soon as he got there, a small, red rubber ball rolled its way to his feet.
—*—
It was about midnight, when he heard it. The sobbing. At first, he thought it was Nora; t wasn't unusual for her to mourn the loss of her baby, even now, but as he passed what used to be Violet's room -and his long before that- the sobbing got louder.
He didn't know why she was crying and he didn't ask. He didn't even stop to think that she might push him away and out of her life, once again. He held her, rocking her softly as she cried. the scene very similar to one still fresh in his memory.
Only, this time, when the sound of her sobs quieted, there wasn't a corpse in his arms. Instead, Violet's eyes rested upon him, before she quickly looked away, not giving him a reason for her crying -he had a pretty good guess. He got the message and stood up.
At the door, he turned to look at her. When he did, her eyes were on him again. This time there was no trace of fear, wariness or rejection. In their place, there was gratitude and, if he was not mistaken, a bit of longing.
As he walked down the hallway the corners of his lips turned up into a small smile and he though that maybe, just maybe, Violet and him would be okay.