Drama, drama, drama, is coming up soon! Thank you for the anonymous reviews, I am trying to get to the exciting parts, and trying to make tham as in character as they are. I hope this wasn't so rushed, it's after 1 AM and I was sparked writing this!
Enjoy!
Violet's happiness didn't last long when they had finally settled in their new home enough to be comfortable. Vivien picked up a of a random alcohol and began to drink it straight from the long necked glass bottle it came in as soon as the last box was brought in from the moving truck. She threw her head back in relief as she chugged it half empty in three gulps. Without saying a word or showing any form of concern Ben had gone to his new office and wrote down his schedule for the new patients he was going to be seeing, Violet hated Ben's oblivious nature, she hadn't known if he chose it, or he really was that unphased.
Violet set up her bedroom a bit as heavy rock music pumped from her MP3 dock. It was no match for her mother's drunken slamming and anger over nothing. She turned the music down a notch, enough to hear her father's footsteps from his office if he chose to go out and calm his wife.
He didn't of course and Violet hated him a little bit more.
The crash of dishes in the sink made Violet jump and mute her music.
"Stupid fucking little girl...Violet get your GODDAMN ASS IN THIS KITCHEN AND CLEAN UP YOUR MESS." Vivien shrieked, coherently intoxicated as Violet opened her bedroom door and treaded lightly down the steps, appearing in front of her visibly too drunk mother, who was clutching the counter top.
"Mom, I didn't make a mess, they were in there because you said earlier you wanted to wash them off before using them for dinner." Her voice was light and nervous. Vivien's gaze locked cruelly on her daughter before grabbing her wrist and bending it in a position where she could break it in a second. Violet seethed in pain as she was shoved against the sink, her ribs and wrists smacked against the aluminium with a crack that sounded delightful to Vivien's ears.
The booze on her breath was nauseating as Violet gagged silently. Her voice held such a malice tone, such a different switch from when other's were around. Like Marcy, that bullshit love and affection shown was almost too convincing, and Violet would never tell a soul what went on behind closed doors.
"Daddy doesn't care about you, Violet. He never did, and never will." Vivien's words cut through her heart like a knife. She breathed in before twisting around, her wrist still bent from the awkward position a moment ago, the dull ache in her ribs made her wheeze before she spoke.
"That's... That's why he cheated on you with a twenty-one year old slut... his his student. You aren't what he wants. You never will be. If he loved you...he would never cheat." She coughed roughly into her fist. The next thing she felt was her mother's hand slam against her mouth, the skin split from her wedding ring as blood hit her teeth and tongue. The coppery liquid warm and sticky as the cut burned like alcohol had been added to it.
"How dare you." Vivien spat. Grabbing at Violet's throat as she struggled and clawed at the aging skin of her arm. Digging her nails in the soft flesh. Black pulled at the corners of her eyes as her vision swayed and her breathing cut drastically. Her legs became jelly as she clutched for anything with her free hand. Air swooshed into her lungs as she was thrown into the floor with a loud thud. the burning sensation came back, but this time to her stomach. Vivien placed her heel on the soft skin and applied pressure that made Violet want to scream for her father.
Would he come out for her if she was in trouble?
"Listen to me, you sarcastic heartless bitch. So help me god, I hear anything like that out of your mouth one more time, I will take a knife and slice it through your jugular vein, just like you so want to do because you live with us. Isn't that what you told Marcy when we were sitting at the table?" Violet didn't move avoiding her mother's gaze. Vivien stomped down on her stomach, causing the blood that filled her mouth to dribble onto the wood.
"Isn't it? ANSWER ME VIOLET." she snapped brutally grabbing her hair and forcing her to look into her bloodshot hazel eyes.
"Yes..." Violet muttered fiercely. Vivien shoved her back and grabbed her longed neck bottle of beer once more.
"Clean up this mess and get the fuck out of my sight. Don't think about showing your face anywhere near me."
She crawled to the sink and pulled herself up, rinsing the rag next to her with warm water before wiping her busted lip clear of blood. Her stomach felt like it was on fire as she cried out from coming in contact with the metal. Bile rose as it was forced down again, acid burning her throat. She wouldn't throw up she was stronger than that.
Dropping the rag on the ground, she stepped on it and moved it in a circular motion to clean up what blood was there. She shook with pain trying to bend down and take it in her hands. Tears stung in her eyes and finally fell down her pale cheeks.
Violet lost the battle she was fighting with herself, she was as weak as her mother, if not a bit more.
Her mother had won without even knowing.
xxx
"So, Tate, that's a very unique name." Ben Harmon said as a boy no older than eighteen sat across from him. His blonde hair hung shaggy in his black eyes, bottomless pits of emotion. His green and black stripped sweater fit loosely on his torso as his ripped jeans were faded and old. His converse dirty with grime with many months if not years of wearing. He was like a young Kurt Cobain. Something in his eyes flickered before he opened his mouth revealing a set of straight white teeth.
"Yeah, I guess. You're the quack my cock sucking mother set me up with, am I right?" Ben was taken aback by his outburst and settled in his chair.
"I am who your mother called. How am I a quack, if I may ask?"
"Aren't all shrinks using their shit diploma's to try to medicate me into being a better person, or just the ones my slut of a mother sends me too?"
"Tate, medication is used to indeed help, but to make certain, how do I put it? Emotions, and feelings stop taking effect and being an every day occurrence, not to make someone a better person. Taking the meds aren't going to turn you into super man or a world peace activist." Ben laughed lightly, Tate didn't even smile.
"Yeah. I know that. But my mother thinks they'll make me into her perfect son. In reality she can't accept that I will never ever be her perfect son." Ben took an interest in that statement and took out a clipboard.
"What do you mean, Tate. You can tell me, I will not judge."
"You silently are." Tate mumbled.
"No, I didn't take on this profession to silently judge or come out and say my judgements."
"My siblings are mentally handicapped. Mom says they're monsters so society and she hates them for their imperfections."
"How many siblings?"
"Two. Adelaide, and Beauregard. I love them no matter what. Flaws make them human. They can't shield what's wrong with them. Addie, she wants to be the girl who is beautiful. Mom says she never will be because she's a monster. But she's the sweetest girl you could meet. She loves animals and reading. I taught her how to read. Mom said it was a waste of time, but I still did it. I talk and play ball with Beau too. Addie joins sometimes." Ben smiled at Tate who had a ghost of a smile on his lips. He was a family kid.
"Is that why your mother thinks you're her perfect son? You have no mental flaws or handicaps?"
"I hide what imperfections I have." He was back to his stoic self, and his walls were back up.
"What imperfections do you have?" Ben asked gently.
"The voices. They pull me in. They tell me to do bad things to myself. I do them sometimes, it's pretty weird. Like an out of body experience. Like I'm watching myself but can't stop."
"Is that the reason you think about killing your classmates?" Tate snapped his black eyes against Ben's blue ones. He almost shivered by how spaced his look was. Tate wasn't in reality anymore, but he still proceeded to talk.
"I prepare for the noble war." his voice was light and airy, that haunting smile takes hold and Ben is listening intently.
"I'm calm; I know the secret. I know what's coming, and I know no one can stop me, including myself. I kill people I like. Some of them beg for their life. I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything. It's a filthy world we live in. It's a filthy goddamn helpless world, and honestly, I feel like I am helping to take them away from the shit and the piss and the vomit that run through the street. I am helping to take them somewhere clean and kind. The world is a filthy place; It's a filthy goddamn horror show. There's so much pain, you know? There's so much… There is something about all that blood; I drown in it. The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits, and once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. Now, there is something smart about that, very smart. I like that. You think I'm crazy?" Tate asked, feeling Ben stare at him. Ben shook his head and smiled.
"No, you're creative. Tate, I felt your emotions mixing in, it's sadistic, it's frightening, but it's so real. Imagining it, does it scare you?"
"Not anymore. It used to when it first happened, I was nine, I think. Since then it's something so normal it's like I really did it, but no one died, but they all suffered." Ben nodded half heartedly as he wrote down a prescription on a pad of paper and handed it to Tate.
"Our session is up. Get this filled and take it regularly. This will not make you act different, perfect, or any other bullshit you might believe it will do. It will help the visions subside." The blonde nodded rubbing his hand through his hair.
"Can I use your bathroom?" Ben hesitated but nodded.
"I don't usually allow it, but go ahead, down the hall, first door on your right." He smiled and followed directions.
Stopping outside a white bathroom door, that was cracked open, he heard someone shuffling around. He was going to turn and ask Ben if there was another bathroom around, but the sound of someone throwing up caught his attention. He opened the door as quietly as he could and stared.
It was a girl, in a long dress, sweater, leggings and black converse, hunched over the porcelain bowl retching harshly as he bodies spastic movements lurched to a stop as she slumped down, breathing heavily. A razor blade across the floor as blood droplets coated the indentations of the tiles. Violet looked up fearfully.
"How the hell did you get in here?" Tate stood dumbfounded.
"I..uh, came here to see Ben Harmon, he's my new shrink, and I am guessing your dad. Are...are you alright? Should I get help? Your lip is busted up pretty bad, and the way you just vomited...and your wrist. Are you trying to kill yourself?" he asked, a million questions leaving his mouth. He was wanting to step in the room, the girl stared up at him with a dull expression.
"Go away. I don't need your help." Tate nodded.
"I never said you did."
"Good, get out."
"If you ever do try killing yourself, try locking the door." After Tate said that, he closed the door with a click and walked back towards the entrance of the house, ignoring everything he felt, with the script in his pocket, and the stinging of his bladder, he chose to go fill what Ben gave him and use it.
Maybe if he does take it, the visions will stop.
Maybe he will see that girl again and help her, although she isn't as fucked up as he is.
Is she?