His happiness became a curse. He knew it was too good to be true. When Violet came into his life, or death for that matter, everything changed in Tate's mind. When he was with her, he no longer thought about the horrible things that usually camped out in his sick mind. Shooting. Stabbing. Raping. Killing. She made him a different person. He had hope for himself when he was by her side. He loved absolutely everything about her. How she didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of her and her outdated clothes. Her taste in music. Her strength. Her sensitivity. How her soft blond hair bounced when she walked. How she blushed and pursed her lips when she got nervous around him. Her fearlessness. He knew she got scared, but she would never admit that to him or anyone for that matter; that was something he admired.
He knew she was curious to know about his past. It was only fair because he had dug into hers. But her past was pure. Kind. Good. Despite the shit her dad did to her family. His past on the other hand, he thought would send her off running and screaming. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. In fact, after a few weeks with her, Tate couldn't bare to think of losing her. Didn't want to know the pain that came with being without her. Too bad. He was feeling it now.
It was mostly emotional pain. He tried so hard not to give himself over to the darkness. He wanted her back, and if he did more stupid shit it would just make the whole that was in between them bigger. They would drift farther and farther apart until they didn't even remember each other's names. Well, he would remember her's. He could never forget anything about her. But she, on the other hand, probably already started to forget.
That idea was what made Tate sick. He spent his time drinking and punching the basement walls until his hands came away bloody and crushed. He loved the pain. It made him feel alive again. When they healed he would just do it again. And again. And again until he couldn't take it anymore. At that point he would drink until he passed out and wouldn't wake up for days. That was the only time he slept. Unlike her, he didn't dream. He couldn't remember the last time he did. Usually he didn't mind this, but after violet sent him away, his biggest wish was just one more dream with her in it. If he couldn't have her in person. In his dreams would have to do.
Hayden tried to talk to him sometimes. He mostly ignored her, but today was different. He was desperate for company. It had been so long since he talked to someone that he was starting to forget what his own voice sounded like. The only thing that every came out of him was screams and sobs. He never talked.
They sat in the basement talking and drinking for hours until she decided it was time for her to go mess with Hugo or Travis. He thought them hanging out would have made him feel better. But it only made him think of how him and Violet used to hangout up in the attic when things were still good. He soon realized that nothing would make him feel better. Only her. She was the only thing that could make him happy again.
He contemplated appearing to her at least ten times before deciding not to. It would probably either freak her out or make her angry. Either way it would end the same way. With those three famous yet unattractive words. "Go Away Tate." He had heard them before from her, and couldn't bare to hear them again. This didn't stop him from watching her, though. He would sit in her room for what seemed like hours crying along side her without her even knowing it. It made him feel better sometimes because he could almost pretend like she knew he was there and was letting him cry with her. After a few months he stopped doing it because he was getting more and more tempted to comfort her, but he knew that was not a good idea.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that he got his chance to actually see her. He knew he needed to take it.
He heard her scream. So loud that Tate would swear the whole block could most likely hear it. He shot up from the basement floor and racked his brain thinking of a reason she could possibly be screaming like that. He had never heard her scream before. Only cry. He wanted nothing more than to run into her room and hug and kiss her until all the problems they ever had were just old memories; forgotten. He knew he couldn't do that though, she would never let him do it.
He materialized into the hallway just outside her door, making sure to keep himself invisible incase someone had the same idea he did. Turns out Vivien did. She ran straight past him and right into her room. His heart beat sped up to ten times its normal speed when she passed him. He felt tears threatening to spill at the thought of what he had done to her. He had never even talked to Vivien before, but he had always wanted to apologize to her. Tell her how much he wishes he could take every horrible thing back that he had done. Tell her how sorry he was and beg for her to see how much he meant it. He never did though, because he knew it wouldn't do much good. She left the door cracked and he saw his opportunity. He walked through the threshold of her room quietly because even though he couldn't be seen, he could still be heard if he wasn't careful.
There she was. Sitting in her bed sobbing and screaming right before his eyes. Despite the tear stains on her cheeks, she looked just as beautiful as she did the last time he saw her. Even her hair, which was messy from sleep, looked amazing to him. All honey blonde colored and soft. Her eyes were swollen red from crying and he couldn't help but think that it was his fault. She was sad because of him. Lonely because of him. Dead because of him. It took everything inside of him not to cry. He couldn't cry, not now. He stood motionless for a minute just staring at her. He took it all in and when she finally stopped screaming, he took a few steps closer to her bed to hear their conversation.
She had dreamt of him. It had made her cry. It had made her scream. He wanted to know wether it was because she missed him and wanted him back, or because she was afraid of the Tate that showed up in her dream. He desperately hoped it was because she missed him. He saw the look of relief that overcame her face when her mother hugged her. It made him happy for a split second. He was glad that something could make her feel safe again. His happiness quickly faded when he remembered why he had come up here.
After her mother left, Tate knew he couldn't leave now. Not without talking to her. Not without hearing her voice again even if it was just her sending him away. He decided to chance it. He appeared to her at the foot of her bed. Just standing there unmoving and silent waiting for her response. The minute she laid eyes on him, though, he started to regret everything he had just done.