He was hyperactively aware of his surroundings, everything going on around him. He could taste the fear in the air, making it thick and heavy. He could sense his fellow students running around like crazy, hiding wherever possible to get out of his way. He could hear the individual thump as each body he riddles with bullet holes falls to the ground. It's all so wonderful that he'd laugh, if the situation weren't so serious.

He moved on from the auditorium, which was now successfully silent, to the library. In the back of his mind he recalled how much he loved the library, and how many hours he spent locked away from the world in there, his only friends a collection of bird books. Afterwards, he met her there quite often. The library was a special place for him, for both of them. It was their sanctuary. So naturally, part of Tate didn't actually want to taint it with blood, but he knew that he honestly had no choice.

The door was locked, or perhaps barred with something. Tate didn't spend much time fighting with it, and instead walked around to the second entrance, grinning at people's stupidity. He was excited for this, his body screamed for it. He physically needed the blood and carnage to stay sane.

He got halfway through turning the handle before someone seemed to grab onto it, but three quick shots through the wooden door took care of that problem. Tate entered the room, immediately noticing the students hiding in there. He could tell that someone hid in the stacks, another under the desk. He followed a girl he vaguely recognized through the walls of books, stroking the gun in his hand comfortingly as he ambled along.

He didn't know when he started whistling, but it got a reaction out of his prey. He heard a sharp intake of breath to his left as the tune slipped from his lips, so he continued. After all, every hero needs a theme song.

He found her easily after that, ignoring her pleads and begging. He shot her quickly, marveling in the way her internal organs spilled outwards as the bullet ripped through her flesh. Some blood sprayed upwards and drizzled onto his face like a warm rain, and he closed his eyes and relished in the beauty of it all. He was finally doing what he was made to do. She would be proud of him.

After his first kill has stopped twitching on the ground, the rest of them are easy. Finally all that's left is a cheerleader under a table, who still can't tear her eyes away from the corpse of her dead boyfriend lying in front of her. Tate's heart flutters involuntarily, as it always does when he notices romance. He wonders if they could have ever ended up like that, if she'd every stare at his lifeless body with so much heartbreak.

The girl begs for her life, predictably, and he notices with glee the yellow puddle pooling under her too-short cheerleader skirt. His flower would never wear something like that, something so disgusting. She wore long dresses and added tights for good measure, so even the sight of this teenager's clothes angers Tate beyond belief.

He raises the gun, points the barrel at her head, angles the tip between her eyes. He figures he'll make her death quick and as painless as possible: right through the head. Although it's the most boring way to kill someone, Tate takes pity on the poor girl. She obviously doesn't understand what a favor he's doing for her. She was simply narrow-minded, stupid. The only other person Tate had ever met who'd understood his logic was his very own flower, but she didn't count. She was too important to even be placed in the same thought as this desperate creature in front of him. His flower was strong.

"Tate."

Her voice is quiet, breathed out between tight lips and shaking gasps. He turns around immediately at the sound of it, and is greeted by her. His flower.

"Violet," he smiles as he notices her, and gestures with his gun under the table, "Look, Violet. Look at what I did." He sounds like a young boy looking for approvement, staring up at her adoringly with huge eyes, dimples denting his cheeks adorably.

Violet doesn't react the way he thinks she will. Her honey-colored hair is hanging around her face, but he can still see her eyes. They're full of tears. "Tate, what have you done?"

He frowns. "This is what we were talking about, Vi. Fixing the world. I'm doing that, for you. For us, so that you'll love me again."

Violet shakes her head, wrapping her delicate arms around her torso and hugging tight. "This isn't how it works, Tate. You can't kill someone to save them."

"Why not?"

"Tate," her voice is rising, choking into hysteria, and it breaks his heart. "You can't do this. You can't kill people, it's wrong. You know that."

He's confused, "It's what you want though, isn't it? To make the world a better place, to rid it of all these stupid people?"

She bites her lip, which has been trembling a bit. "I didn't want it like this." She whispers.

The girl under the table whimpers a bit, so Tate effectively shuts her up. He never takes his eyes off of his flower, so he has a clear view as she flinches and squeezes her eyes closed when the gunshot echoes throughout the library. Her whole body begins to shake, and she looks at Tate with an expression so full of fear that he wants to put the gun to his own head and pull the trigger.

The only thing he's ever cared about, ever loved, is terrified of him.

"It's the darkness, Vi. I'm so sorry, it has me." He whines, "Nobody can stop me now, including myself."

"This isn't right, Tate." She sobs, and tears finally begin flowing down her face. The only other time he'd seen her cry was when her father announced he was leaving to live with his mistress back in Boston. Tate still remembers the way he'd wrapped her in his arms afterwards, and how she'd ruined his shirt with the remnants of her shattered heart.

"Don't cry, Violet. Please." He takes a step forward to comfort her, but she scrambles backwards, almost knocking into one of the bookshelves. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and her eyes shine brightly with terror.

He drops the gun, and shrugs off the coat. He feels better with it off, the heavy weight of the extra guns now relieved. He raises his hands in surrender, and tries to step towards her again. She flinches, but doesn't move away this time.

"Why did you do this, Tate?" she cries, "We had plans. We were going to run away when we graduated, travel around the world. We were going to get married, have kids." She begins to breathe erratically, looking at the ground. "They're going to kill you, Tate. Why did you do this?"

He's so close to her he could reach out and take a few strands of her hair in his hand, but he doesn't. He can feel the fear radiating off of her, and it ruins him. Tears run down his face, dripping off the tip of his nose. "I did it for you, Violet. I thought you would love me again."

She sobs violently, a mix between a cry and moan so pain-filled he's surprised he doesn't fall down at her feet right then. "I never stopped loving you. But now you've ruined it."

His eyes widen at this. "No, no. That's not true. I-I can fix this!"

"How? How the hell can you fix this? Can you bring these people back to life? Go back in time?" her voice is rising now, in anger. He can see it blazing in her eyes, along with betrayal. He'd betrayed her, and he wanted to die.

"I'm so, so sorry, Violet. I love you, please forgive me." He kneels down in front of her, burying his face into her stomach. He pushes himself into her, wanting to just disappear from the world. She smells like vanilla.

"I love you, too, Tate." She replies, and he smiles. The smile turns into a full-blown grin as he feels the cool metal biting into the side of his head. She knew what she had to do, she knew what was right. His flower was smart, brave. He was proud of her.

"Do it." He whispers into the material of her dress, feeling the way the gun dances against his temple as her hands shake. "Violet." He wants his last word to be her name. Her, always.

"I'm so sorry," she cries, and pulls the trigger.

He's never loved her more.

I

Hi guys, I know I haven't been around for a while. I went on vacation and school's been crazy, so I haven't had much time to write and I regret that. I know I usually write fluff, so I wanted to try something a little heavier. I honestly think it was kind of a fail, but I don't know, maybe you'll like it.

I love you all so much, please review, and don't be afraid to request any specific stories if you want me to write them!

-A :))