Chapter 2: The Surprise Hidden in Truth

I knew this was gonna happen. He's going to hurt me again. But this time, I want him to. I want him to make me suffer.

But I was completely stunned when he didn't hit me, but, sat beside me. Face completely swapped from anger, to sadness. I slid the locks of my hair out of my face and rubbed my eyes. Was this an illusion? Was he even here? Was I in a trance? A dream? I had no coke anymore, so I definitely wasn't high. This was different, Patrick was sitting beside me? He hated me. What the fuck?

"How long have you been down here?" he speaks, eyes avoiding even the slightest look at me, I don't blame him.
"No fucking clue," I pause, causing a split second of silence. "Does it really matter though?"
"Probably not. You're the reason I'm here," he musses.
"Well. My bad."
"That's it?" he chuckles. "I guess it's better than nothing."

That's when it hits the room again, silence. It felt good talking to someone, but with the amount of hatred I could feel towards me, the silence didn't hurt. Patrick does nothing but stare at his silver watch, caressing it with little happiness leaving his face. I've caused him this great deal, he's stuck in this asylum with everyone else. There's no magic here. Fuck. This isn't a hotel it's a god damn freak show, and we're the main attraction. I think of Addie. God it'd be easier if she was with me. I'd have someone to talk to.

"I'm- I'm sorry for being douche and- killing you." I knew that was one of dumbest things I've ever said, but, what's said is said.
"Wait. Say that again?" Patrick smirks.
"I'msorryforbeingadoucheandkillingoyu," I mumble quickly, hardly bringing out the words.
Patrick laughs. "I don't forgive you. Not yet, maybe one day. But-"
"Clearly not today," I interrupt.
Patrick simply nods his head and looks at me.
"You've completely fucked up, you know?" he says, asserting the truth and only the truth. His words were completely true and they struck an impulse inside.

I get up slowly and head towards the ping -pong table the family we scared away left. My teeth grind, I can feel it coming out again, the evil I once controlled. Rubber man. I flip the table against the wall, breaking it nearly in half. I see Patrick eyes string up at me, nearly jumping out of their sockets. I begin to stomp the table in, throwing pieces around the room, knocking jars and glass bottles off the nearby cabinet.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I hear him yell.
I couldn't be bothered to stop. I just ignore him and continue breaking the basement for the second time. It is until I feel his hand grab my wrist that I pay attention.
"WHAT?!" I yell, echoing the whole house.

Patrick shocks back. I scared him. I was angry, no, I was psychotic. I was a "psychopath" just like Ben said. I was what I feared to be; evil, uncontrollable, unloved, psychotic and no doubt, a monster. I grip Patrick's arm. He was a lot stronger than I was, but I don't think that was the case tonight. My grip was breaking his arm, I could feel it. I snapped out of anger and back to reality. I let go of his arm and step back. Patrick takes his arm in hand and rubs it. I hurt him a bit.

"Sorry," I pause. "I lost control, I'm sorry."
Patrick stares at me with dark eyes. He wasn't mad, he was somewhat concerned.
"What the hell was that?" he asks. "You weren't you."
"Maybe I was me," I knot.
Patrick stares at me again, he hated me, but there's something inside of him that was being consumed by concern.

"It's her, isn't it," he says, his voice cracking when he said "her".
"Who?" I say stupidly.
"Violet. She's the reason you've stayed down here?"
"Who cares? She doesn't want to see me again," I state, reminding myself of those words she said.
"I wouldn't be too sure," Patrick says, looking me up and /My eyes peer at him, watering slightly at the thought of Violet. I've been cursed by her; her hazel eyes, her amazing smile, wicked attitude. I took her purity, and now I'm burdened to never see her again.
"What does that mean?" I snark, wanting to hear every word Patrick has to say.

He goes silent. He knows that the anticipation is torture enough. But he doesn't want to know, like it's his little secret, like a weapon against me.
"It doesn't matter, but there's something you need to do." His eyes grow back into the form of anger, his attitude has changed towards me. Was he trying to hide his concern? Or was he truly hating me?
He walks up to the nearby closet and holds onto the handle, before tearing it open. The closet doors open, revealing the torn at the stomach, black latex suit that he wore when he committed those crimes. It was rubber man, well, it was the alter-egos form. He doesn't remember putting it there? Last person to wear it was Ben Harmon?

My heart begins to sink down to my kidneys. The suit scared me, even when I was wearing it. I couldn't handle the sight of it. I know the things I've did in that thing, the monstrous alter-ego I created.
"Stay- that fucking thing- away from me!"
"No, Tate." Patrick gnarls at me. "You need to destroy it. Destroy it and maybe, whatever good you have left in inside of your helpless self will show."
The look on his face was serious, on both of our faces. I don't know why, but he was trying to help me? He was trying to help me?
"Why? Why must I destroy it? Why can't you?" my voice was losing touch due to fear.
"If you don't. It will consume you again," a voice says from the stairs.

I look over to the stairs, another familiar face. Now I'm being crowded, I don't like this. It's Chad, standing angrily against the wall. Why was he here? It was for Patrick no doubt.
"Patrick. Hun," he says. "I think it's time we left this, thing, alone."
I could feel my eyes grow dark as I watched him find himself back up the stairs, Patrick following him.
"It's up to you, Langdon." He snarls. "Just remember, you're going to be here a while. Might as well impress somebody."

I walk up to him and grip his shirt, stopping him in his path. Chad turns around and looks at me.
"Is everything you said true?" I sigh, demanding an answer.
"The truth and nothing but the truth," he grins, before finding his way back into the main house.
I turn back down the stairs and walk towards the closet. I stop and stare at the latex suit. My notice a box below it, and strut towards it. I open it quickly, expecting something stupid like a bomb. Instead, I stand before items of suffering. A razor similar to what Violet used to use (probably still does after the shit I caused), the handgun I used to kill a few students the day I lost it, a lighter and the noose used to kill Ben Harmon.

My hands grip onto the suit, holding it still. This is it, I'm holding it, feeling its darkness consuming my body. My eyes find their way around the suit and to the cut on the stomach. I can't remember what happened, but someone didn't like the suit, or who was wearing it. I let out a scream of agony, fighting its corruption. The scream lasts for about twenty-seconds before I stop.
You have to pay for what you've done.
"You're right, Violet. I do."
You need to destroy it.
I grip the suit, dragging it up the stairs I swore to myself I wouldn't go back up. I walk to the entertainment room, noticing the fireplace is sparked up. This makes my job easier. I find myself walking towards the flame, eyes flaming towards it like a crazy-man.

I look around the house. I see Nora sitting on the chair, watching Violet's mother, Vivien, as she rocks her baby Jeffrey. I think about Violet's half-brother, the one the cocksucker is looking after. I hope he turns out like me, but worse. Constance will love that. My thoughts are crumbled when someone appears in front of me, pulling off the ghost teleportation shit. It's Ben Harmon. The one who hated me the day he met me.

"What. the hell. are you doing here?" he says slowly, noticing the suit in my hands.
"You lied to me, you know," I snap. "You didn't even try to hangout with me. But that's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you here? Violet's not in-"
"This isn't about Violet, Mr Harmon," I explain. "This is about the thing in my hands; I'm getting rid of it."
Ben laughs at me, finding my idea amusing.
My eyes darken at the asshole standing in front of me. I want to break his neck right now but that will only make matters worse. I say the two magic words to make him disappear away from me.
"Go away."

When he leaves, I turn to fireplace and kneel in front of it. I rip the suit into smaller pieces so the latex doesn't burn out the fire. My mind trembles in shakes, this is hard. I don't want to give it up, but I know I have to. I place the small pieces into the fire, causing small sparks of smoke, before I finally get up to the last piece of nightmarish latex. I sigh. Hearing the voices in my head again.
You need to pay for what you've done.
You're not a person, you're a monster. A psychopath.
"Shut up," I snark to myself, grabbing my head.
I was going to leave with him, and you screwed that up!
Tell us why you did it. You owe us that!

I let out another squirm of pain and struggle before placing the last piece of the latex into the fire. But this time, my hand goes in with it. The sleeves of my jacket and shirt begin to burn, catching a flame. My hand starts to fry in the fire. My mouth opens to a scream. I can hear Nora and Vivien turn, their chairs grinding against the wooden floor. My hand has turned from blistering to burnt flesh. My screams go more quiet when my mouth closes but it still hurts. I watch as the latex burns away from my hand. I can't hold it. My screams echo through the entire house. I'm not doing for attention, the only person I want hates me. I do it because I deserve it.