Part 2/4
She is wearing a coonskin cap, the little tail dipping down into the sheet of her hair. A pack of Camels sit, cast aside, on the low brick wall beside her, a can of coke just beyond but within reach of her small white hands. I think about scaring her as I approach; imagine my hand clasped over her mouth, the other wrapping around her waist, dragging her up and along my body, and bite my lip.
The field in front of us is all but abandoned. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts, a physical pain in my chest, pulling me forward, toward her. In the end I sneak up behind her, quiet as I can be, and put my hands over her eyes. For one moment Violet sputters, gasps in surprise, then her hands are covering my own, gripping them, "Screw you, Tate," drops sarcastically from her lips.
"I scared you."
"No, you didn't," she turns as my hands fall back to my sides. Her still too wide eyes give her away though.
I pout so prettily at her, "Really? I didn't scare you?"
"I said no." She shakes her head. That hat is utterly ridiculous. And I fucking love it. I flick the tail, watch it sway.
Dropping down beside her on the wall, her smokes and drink between us, I lean in, pause, wait for her to do the same, and when she does, press my lips to her soft, full mouth. "Bet I can," I breathe.
"Asshole," she laughs with a huff, pushing me away. Her hot little hand lingers on my chest, resting against my rapidly beating heart. I shrug.
She waits, nibbling on her mouth, as my fingers slide over hers, slip between them, clasping her hand. Finally she looks at me again. "Leah's coming over after school." And I grin maniacally. Then I kiss her again, a fleeting, warm touch and rest my forehead against hers.
"I'll skip last period."
Violet chuckles, "Tate, you skip, like, every period."
I smirk, still so close to her, "Bring her to the basement. I'll be there."
Her face is momentarily fucking nervous, teeth still working that lip. "You're not going to hurt her or anything are you?"
"Do you want me to?" Because I would really fucking like to. Put my hands around her throat, choke her, lift her up by her neck, and smash her skull into the hard concrete. Watch her eyes glaze over, the blood pooling around her head.
She doesn't respond, not really, my girl, just lifts one shoulder helplessly.
"Because," I whisper, "I would for you." My eyes bore into hers, hoping to convey how absolutely fucking serious I am. "I would do anything for you, Violet." And her breath catches so beautifully. She's not smiling but I feel her cool hand on the back of my neck as she tugs me into her, our mouths colliding with the slide of lips and tongue. It becomes something more, the kiss, passionate and hot, our teeth gnashing together, my palms gliding up her waist to her narrow ribcage, where I squeeze, clutch her in desperation.
At Murder House I let myself in, noting that the good doctor and his wife both appear to be away from home, and grin. The basement is dimly lit on the best of days and with the sun low in the sky the place is cast in near darkness. The room I want to use is windowless anyway but it sets the tone. I love that shit.
The monster is around somewhere and I am quite certain that Leah's arrival will fucking bring him out, crawling, slithering into view. He's always hungry.
Once I'm situated in the chair I've chosen, facing the doorway, I wait. My mind drifts to thoughts of Violet: her lips, her small breasts in my hands only feet away from our classmates, the sweet little noises she makes. Not being with her, fucking her, is getting harder to take. The voices, all of them, call for her, beg for her, want her. And I feel more and more helpless to deny them. Her little pink cunt, it's all I can think about. I want to put my mouth on it. I've never licked a girl's slit, fuck, I've never actually seen one up close and personal. And I only want to see hers. Always and forever. Palming my dick through my worn jeans I hiss, "Fuck."
And then I hear them. Two voices, both girls, and one most definitely the honeyed tones of my Violet. I grit my teeth and take my hand off of my cock, rocking back and forth in excitement, in preparation.
"This place is a dump," Leah sneers and I bite my lip until I taste copper, trying to stay in control. I can not kill her no matter how much I would like to.
Violet snarks back, "Oh, shut up."
"I want my goddamn drugs."
"Then keep going."
The girls stumble in in the dark as Violet flicks the light switch bathing us with the age old fluorescents. "So this is the coke whore." I fucking know who she is but I somehow doubt she has ever taken notice of me. Leah's surprised, confused, instantly on edge. I can fucking smell her fear. It's intoxicating.
"Who the hell are you?" The cocksucking bitch starts, taking the offensive.
"Get the lights," I tell Violet who smirks and does just as I've fucking asked.
Immediately the room goes in and out of darkness as I let myself really feel the moment, laughing hysterically, insanely. And he's there, I feel him, behind me. It doesn't take much to lift the little fucker and sit him in the chair, he claws and snarls, as I dive away, right at Leah, knocking her to the ground.
I intend to get up, let Thaddeus have his fun and then show the cunt the way out. But I can't stop myself from reaching down, putting my hands around her throat and squeezing. Not enough, the voices hiss, hold tighter. And she's screaming beneath me even as Violet begins screaming behind me. And then he's on her, mouth gaping, teeth flashing in the flickering light.
Grabbing hold of Violet around the waist I feel her momentarily relax back into me with a sigh of relief before struggling, moving forward, "What's going on?" she yells.
"Get off me! Get off me! Stop!" The girl on the floor struggles as I smile, keeping my girl with me, safe. But she worms her way loose, hitting the floor with her knees and palms, a soft exhalation of pain. And that has Thaddeus turning, scrambling toward the fresh meat. I immediately kick the little shit, knocking him away from Violet and back toward his intended target. It's only seconds before he goes for Leah's throat but I get hold of him by that fucking ugly old lace collar. He scratches her face good, deep, and blood blooms from the cuts, as the screams continue. "Mommy?"
When I hit the lights, the monster is gone, and Leah leaps up, running without looking back. Violet's face is a frozen mask of horror. She is shaken from her stupor by the sound of feet hitting the steps, "Wait!" she calls after the fleeing girl.
"I don't think she'll be bothering you anymore," I smirk, pleased with myself.
"What the fuck was that?" she spins, hands clenched into fists. Instead of appearing grateful, throwing her arms around me, kissing me, touching me, she is beside herself, near hysterical, lips turned down into a wobbling frown. "What did you fucking do, you psycho?" And that hurts. Like a knife in the chest, cutting my heart out. People might think that about me, whisper it behind my back, but not Violet. Not the one person in the world who could truly love me.
"I just did what you asked," I shout, voice broken. Her face is pink, eyes shining with tears.
"No, Tate," she croaks, "that is not what I wanted!" A gasp, "What was that?"
"What are you talking about?" I ask, knowing that she saw him, it. The house has secrets, too many, ones that she is not ready to know about. I smirk, lie through my fucking teeth, and I feel like a piece of shit. Doing it to her. "She hit me in the balls and got away. She must have run into a wall or something."
Violet glances with terrified eyes into the basement room that we just vacated. "A wall, Tate? She fucking pissed herself," and I can't stop the spread of my smile, feeling accomplished. My girl, however, is having none of it, fury in her eyes, overtaking the fear. "I saw something."
"What are you talking about?" I repeat, rolling my eyes, gaslighting her like a prick. "You're talking crazy, Vi." My hand reaches out, grabs ahold of her crooked elbow, pulling her toward me. "This is cool. We showed that bitch!" I want to kiss her, need to, greedy for it. My cock is rock hard, that cunt's screams still ringing in my ears, making me feel high.
But Violet pushes me away, shoves me. She has never refused my lips, not once. "Fuck you," she shrieks. "You're fucking lying to me!"
My eyes roll around in their sockets, lost, boggling at her anger, my mouth hanging open like some moron. I can't even get a fucking word out. I'm stunned, hurt, bile rising up my throat. I did all of it for her. To protect her.
Finally I manage a choked, "Violet," but her face is closed off to me. Her palms hit my chest again shoving me roughly into the wall. Her strength shouldn't surprise me but it does and I stay there, feeling like I am about to be sick.
"Fuck you, Tate," she declares a second time, eyes narrowing. "Just get the fuck out of my house."
"But," I stammer.
"Get out!" Her voice echoes around the room and I'm thankful that her parents are gone. With that she storms up the stairs leaving me where I'm standing.
"I thought you weren't afraid of anything," I mutter darkly, the pain in my chest seizing control. I am murderous. Rage claws at my ribs like a monster begging to be released. I would never hurt her, fucking never, but I want to. To crush her to me, hold her, kiss her, force her down on the floor and make her beg. For her life, for me to fuck her. I scream at her retreating form, "I thought you weren't afraid of anything!" And turn, punching my fist into the concrete, my knuckles busting open, bones shuddering from the impact, before I whirl around in a daze and run for the basement door.
Slamming into my house, bleeding hand at my side, hair in my face, tears on cheeks, I storm upstairs to my bedroom. I can not get the top drawer of my nightstand open fast enough. As I stare down at the orange prescription bottles wavering between going up or crashing down, I finally opt for the valiums. I toss three in my mouth, swallow them dry.
"Fucking bitch." My voice is hollow. Wretched. And I could mean Violet, could blame her, but it was Leah. That shit eating cunt. If she had just left my girl alone, right from the beginning, none of this would be happening. For a few moment I entertain the thought of leaving, of finding her house, going into her room and stabbing her. Just hammering a knife into her chest, her fucking stomach, listening to that bitch cry and moan some more. But I don't. My head is spinning, either from the pills already taking effect or from Violet. Lack of Violet. And fear. Fear that she will never see me, never speak to me again.
As I face the darkness of my mind, the blackness behind my eyes, I determine not to let that happen. Tomorrow, I will talk to her tomorrow, make her understand. And fuck, if she's serious, I'll tell her what's in the basement. If that's what she wants. But I don't think it is. And I don't want her fucking spooked, freaking out, tell her parents. That's when people, like doctor daddy Ben, start thinking you're losing your shit. They could send her away and I would have lost my chance. Lost my everything. My salvation. Violet, already, is the only thing I have in the world worth hanging on for, living for.
And then I'm gone, adrift on a sea, and my dreams are filled with blood. And Violet.
When I wake it's the middle of the night and I'm groggy, woozy. My head hurts but the pain there is nothing compared to the pain in my heart. I think of Violet immediately, as I always do when I'm first opening my eyes, or closing them, or gasping as I cum, or any other fucking time of the day. And I can't stand the thought that she is in her room, my room, our room, sleeping or tossing and turning, angry with me.
I should close my eyes and go back to sleep, but I have never been one to do what I should do. I do what I need to do. And I need to speak to my girl. Now. Right that fucking second.
Letting myself in through the basement door I cringe, remembering what happened there only hours before. I try not to think about it. I still feel sick.
I take the stairs slowly, listening, waiting to make sure that the coast is clear before I venture up to the first floor. I do the same climbing up to Violet's room. The door is cracked, a small desk lamp aglow, and it feels like an invitation. Like she knew I would come.
Violet is tiny, small boned and beautiful, when awake. Asleep she is even smaller, more fragile, and I sigh when I look at her. Her features are twisted, face scrunched up, as her hand grasps the blankets. Her lips are puffy, as are her eyes, and I know she has felt it, the pain, the fear, just a keenly. I want to throw myself on my knees, at her mercy, but I stay standing at the foot of her bed, watching her, biting my lip, hands jammed deep in my pockets.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat calling out to her, driving me forward, toward her, the bed. And I'm terrified. Afraid she'll deny my love, reject me, push me away again. "Fuck," I mumble, biting down on my wrist, not wanting to fucking cry any more. I don't want her to think I'm some pussy who can't keep his shit together.
And either she wasn't really asleep or she is just that attuned to me, she stirs under her myriad of blankets, "Tate?" she hushes into the room, eyes still closed.
"Yeah," I respond, stepping closer.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice barely audible.
I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, making the floorboards creak, trying to find the right words. But before I can she moves over, lifting the covers as an invitation. One I could not possibly refuse. I inch as close to her as I can, drawing her to me, holding her hot little body against my own. "Don't be mad at me," I whisper in her ear, lips touching the delicate shell. "Please, Violet, don't be mad." A sob nearly escapes my burning throat.
"Tate," she sighs breathily making my cock instantly hard, knowing she must feel it pressed right up against her.
"I'm sorry," I say it into her neck, trailing my mouth over her warm skin.
"Me too," she breathes, turning her head to grant me better access.
"And if you want to know what's in the basement, I'll tell you, I'll show you," I implore. She cuts me off with her lips, ending my stammering pledge.
I roll us, slipping between her parted thighs. She's only wearing a pair of cotton panties with her oversized thermal and as I feel the heat of her, right there, I gasp, groan, into her open mouth, resting in the place I so desperately need to be: against her quivering pussy and in her good graces. I rock against her, make her moan, little shivers running through her. And fuck, it's good. I've never felt so amazing. Her hands move from my neck, sweeping over my back as the muscles there shift and pull, and around my sides. I almost blow my load in my fucking pants when she palms me, rubbing, teasing.
"Violet," I whimper.
She lets out a ragged breath, "I want to."
And I can barely control myself, wanting to rip her fucking panties away, tear down my zipper, and ram into her wet hole. Make her mouth fall open in surprise. But I don't, instead I renew my rutting, trapping her hand where it is between us. Staring down at her face, eyes closed, lip caught painfully between her teeth, I beg, "Cum for me," as she tosses her head back and forth across the pillow, muffled little whines escaping her. "I want to see you cum." And fuck if she doesn't, right then and there, crying out into my seeking mouth. With a few more thrusts I find my own release, freezing above her, breathing furiously, frantically through my nose, so as not to cry out, to wake the whole house, the whole fucking neighborhood.
"Did you?" she queries a couple of moments later, wide eyes searching my face.
I breathe, "Oh, yeah."
"In your," she appears as if she wants to gesture but instead closes her hand still on my dick, grasping. I groan as the base of my spine tingles, feeling renewed interest, but I'm too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to put any real effort into it. "Shit," she huffs, "sorry." I kiss her lips, slowly, softly. When I pull away she gazes back at me, puzzled. "But I said," she blushes furiously, "I wanted. You could have…"
"Fucked you," I whisper.
Violet closes her eyes, "Yeah."
I kiss each eyelid, "Violet," but they remained closed. I plead, "Look at me." When she does embarrassment, disappointment, are written plainly across her features. "I swear, I want to be with you so badly. And that's never happened to me. It's just," I pause, trying to find the right fucking words, "not like this. With your parents down the hall and trying not to make a sound cause the whole fucking house is asleep." I breathe, "I want it to be special." And then it is my turn to close my eyes in embarrassment. I sound like such a douche bag. And she's going to laugh at me for being pathetic. Because I am pathetic. And hopelessly, endlessly in love with her.
She sighs but it sounds amused. I peek at her through lowered lashes and she is grinning. "Of course, I find the last noble boy in LA."
Her comment takes me back to that first meeting with her father, fucking Dr. Ben, and my noble war. It just reinforces my notion that Violet is the only person who truly understands me, who I am, how I feel. She knows me. And she still wants me to take her virginity. Wants me to hold her hand. Wants me to love her, be with her.
I can not speak so finally she shakes her head, laughing quietly, and rolls me off of her and onto the mattress beside her, tucking herself into my side. My hands slip under her shirt, resting on her bare back while hers go to slip through my hair, brushing my scalp. It's my turn to purr like a kitten.
"Good night, Tate," she breathes, already on the edge of sleep.
"Good night, Violet," I whisper back still staring at her in awe. And for probably the first time in my life I fall asleep feeling truly loved.
As dawn approaches, the room lightening, she shifts, snuggles against me, moving furthering into my chest, her hands fisted in my shirt. With a sigh I tell her honestly, "I need to go," but everything in me pleads, begs, bargains with me, to stay where I am. "Your parents will be up soon," she moans softly in disagreement, not releasing me. "Vi, please, your dad can't fine me here. He'll stop seeing me." And I want to get better, to make the visions stop. I know that now. If not for me, then for her.
"Fuck my dad," she grumbles, tongue darting out to taste the exposed flesh between my neck and shoulder. "And besides, he always sleeps in on Saturday."
"Fuck your dad, huh?" I smirk. "He's not really the Harmon on the top of my list."
"Oh," she bats her lashes at me coquettishly, "and who is?" Violet, is once again fearless, last nights embarrassed blushing girl back to the coy, teasing temptress. I decide I like both versions of her.
"Your mom," I smirk.
Violet hauls back and smacks me, nearly knocking me out of the bed, but she's laughing. "Better not."
"I wouldn't," I tell her, dragging her to me so that she's flush against my body once more. "It's you and me, Vi. Always."
By the time I get out of my girl's room I am hard as a steel post again. I stumble home, blissed out, and slip inside, up the stairs, and into the shower before anyone is the wiser at my being gone all night. Constance would have a fucking shit-fit if she knew. And if I had to listen to her talk about where I was, about Violet, I wouldn't be able to contain my rage. Because knowing the southern belle, she would have nothing polite to say about a girl who let a boy share her bed, which would force me to throttle her to death. And then who would be left to pretend to care for Addie and Beau?
"Fuck," I groan, hand around my cock, forehead pressed to the cool tile wall as water cascades over me as I try to find some relief.
When I'm clean, dressed, and mostly fucking limp again I listen to In Utero on repeat for over two hours sequestered in my room, watching the house next door from my window, waiting to catch a glimpse of Violet. By ten o'clock when I still haven't seen her but Ben, in his jogging clothes, and her mother, in stretch pants and leotard, have disappeared to their respective morning destinations I flee back to Murder House, easing open the kitchen door, and making my way upstairs.
Violet is like a drug. I need her. I crave her.
I am near to shaking by the time I find her, so desperate to have her back in my arms, my lips on her throat. Peering around the bathroom door, I see her, razor slicing along the delicate veins of her wrist, opening the white flesh there and painting it blood red. The blood, the color, the consistency, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning.
When she pulls the blade away from her skin and I feel comfortable approaching, knowing that I won't fucking scare her into accidentally killing herself, I push the door wide, leaning against the frame, the picture of casual aside from my ragging hard-on.
"Tate," she jumps, attempting to hide.
"Don't," I sigh, sounding desperate to my own ears.
Her hazel eyes are huge, lips pink, hair hanging in her face, "You do it," she replies defensively.
I shake my head. She doesn't understand my meaning. "No. I mean don't hide," my teeth worry my lower lip as my heart pounds, "I want to watch." It's sick. Fucking twisted. And I am certain she is going to shove me out of her way and storm from the bathroom.
But she doesn't. Instead the blade reappears, sliding smoothly across her flesh, a second line opening beside the first, her eyes on mine. And it's all too much. My body's reaction is visceral, uncontrollable. Without thought or reason I'm lifting her, depositing her ass on the counter, ducking down to kiss her lips. Her arms lift, moving to wrap around my neck and it's so much like my fantasy I have to stop and catch my breath, suddenly afraid it all isn't real.
Reaching for her, I halt her movements, and bring her bloodied wrist to my mouth, dragging the flat of my tongue along the stripes of red, letting the flavor of her, of Violet's blood, hang heavy on my taste buds.
"Tate," she stutters, staring down at me from her perch on the vanity.
Sensing her hesitancy I glance up at her, smirking. "I could lick you somewhere else," I murmur, "if you want," and her skin scorches scarlet but she nods.
And that's how I find myself tugging Violet's gray tights down her legs, black panties following behind, and tossing them across the room. She's not wearing one of her dresses today, just an oversized, deep green sweater than falls to mid-thigh, as it hangs off of one shoulder revealing her utter lack of bra. I drop to my knees, pushing the material up around her waist and slowly, carefully, nudge her legs apart to get my first look at that glorious little wet slit.
Fuck, it's perfect. Pink and shiny, dripping. Begging me to taste it. But suddenly I'm nervous. Violet's a virgin but who's to say that I'm the first to spread her dimpled knees. And what if I'm awful at it? What if she doesn't fucking cum I'm so bad? "I," I start, staring up into her half-lidded gaze, her mouth open to form a innocently seductive 'O', "haven't, you know, before, so if I'm…"
"You're the first boy to ever see me," she rushes out, "to touch me," then swallows thickly before licking her lips with what I think is anticipation.
Her response makes me bold so with one last grin I lean in, sweep the very tip of my tongue along her seam. My girl is fucking soaking. She releases a shaking little sigh and puts her hand on my head, fingers weaving into my hair. Encouraged I try again, using more of my tongue, pushing her open, and finally tasting her.
"Oh god," I stammer, "it's even fucking better than your blood, Violet." And her head falls back, knocking into the mirror with a groan.
"Please, please," she repeats over and over again as I work her, laving every inch I can reach both inside and out. Her bare pussy smearing my face with her juice. One hand slips from its place on her thigh and drops to rub my dick through my pants.
It's sloppy and messy and amazing. And I fucking love it. It's my new fucking favorite thing. Eating Violet's little pink pussy. I never want to stop but eventually I have to. After she cums for a second time her palms push at me, her legs quaking, "Too much," she mumbles, hair in her face, cheeks wet, eyes bright. And I can't stop grinning at her, my face splitting.
I don't shower afterward, I refuse, I won't even wash my face, no matter how many times Violet tells me, laughing, rolling her eyes, pulling on my cigarette, "You're so fucking gross." And I swear, for days, that I can smell her on me.
At my next appointment with big fucking Ben it's there, wafting past my nostrils, making me grin for no reason, which makes the doc really fucking squirm. He doesn't trust me but he hasn't called the cops, reported me for my dreams, fantasies. Maybe the dick actually thinks I can get better. Or, I chuckle, he needs the fucking money. As my cocksucking mother continues to point out, he doesn't have very many patients.
"I am afraid I won't be able to see you next week, Tate."
And my heart hammers. What does he know? "Why?" I demand, mouth pulling downward, eyes narrowing.
"I'll be in Boston for the week, visiting with old patients and wrapping up a few details out there." I stare. Read: I'm seeing my fucking mistress who still lives there. He doesn't even have the decency to look guilty, just smug. Like he's looking forward to slipping back into that 21 year old cunt's pussy. I hope he dies inside of her, a fucking stroke, a heart attack. But that's probably too good, too easy of an end for Ben Harmon. I could come up with so many more interesting ways for him to go. Hung up by his toes, throat slit like the swine that he is. On fire, doused in gasoline, just like dear old fucking Larry.
I nod lazily, "So, the next Tuesday then?"
"You bet. And," he smiles, all teeth and bullshit, "keep taking your meds. You do not want to see what happens if you stop."
"Yeah, yeah," I wave him off, standing, "we through for today?" His reply is a curt bob of his head and I slip out of the room, shoulders hunched, dragging my feet. "I'll show myself out," and he waves me off. Fucking prick. Either he honestly believes that Violet never spoke to me again after he told her not to or he has given up caring. What a dick-bag. I can not fucking wait to be rid of that asshole for a whole week. Not having to deal with his shit, with sneaking around with my girl. I can't wait to experience life without Ben. I'm dying to know just how sweet it will be.