from the love to the lightning
My muse wouldn't leave me alone so I managed to write three more of this little oneshots last night. The other two should be up soon too.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
to hurt her
His cold eyes follow her around the kitchen as she makes herself a sandwich and a cup of tea.
He's invisible but not for long. He suspects she knows he's there anyway, she always does.
It's one of those rare occasions when she hasn't got a care in the world – she looks relaxed, peaceful, happy even, he notes with a hint of disdain. Usually he's glad to see her like this, because happiness was all he ever wanted for her, and because she looks more beautiful than it should be allowed, but not today.
Today he's in a bad mood.
Today he's in a bad mood because of her and when he thinks of the reason she's so cheerful, he wants to scream and destroy, he wants to hurt someone, hurt her. Maybe not physically, but he wants to hurt her back the same way she's hurt him. Or ruin her good mood at the very least.
He steps out of the shadows. There's an ugly scowl on his lips when he speaks. "Do you enjoy whoring yourself around?"
She turns around with agonizing slowness, the plate still in her hand. She looks unbothered by his comment – yet. "I slept with Travis. Once."
"You don't love him. You don't even like him."
"What was I supposed to do when I was horny and you wouldn't fuck me?" It was true, he wouldn't. He wouldn't and he won't, not until she makes some kind of gesture towards him.
He's not even asking for forgiveness, a simple 'I love you' would do, but she's unwilling to give him that and so he's unwilling to give her sex. With how turned on she was most of the time, he was confident she would give in sooner or later but then she went and fucked Travis and now he's reconsidering things.
Maybe he should have done what she wanted him to do while he still could.
Just as he opens his mouth to answer her question and tell her there's this thing called masturbation, she continues on, giving him no time to speak his mind.
"Should I have kidnapped you and tied you up? Raped you like you raped my mother?" She steps closer to him, malice in her eyes. Of course he would have deserved it but she refuses to be that person.
And would it still be rape if he enjoyed it too?
"Is that what turns you on, Tate? Does the thought make you hard? Is that why you raped her?"
His need to hurt her is back but it's so much stronger. He wants to make her suffer, he wants to see her squirm and writhe under the pain. See her cry like he cried today when he watched her with Travis.
His response is automatic.
"No, the truth is I'm just simply not sexually attracted to you."
The plate falls to the ground and shatters into pieces.
He knows that was always one of her fears, ever since that day when he rejected her on the beach, maybe even before that. She has her insecurities too and her body has always been one of them. He knew that all too well and he used his knowledge to hit a sore spot.
Her mouth hangs open. The first emotion to run across her face is hurt, then anger, and then there's nothing.
Numbness.
That's almost better to see than the pain.
She turns around and hurriedly walks away, and he lets her go without a word. He knows that within an hour he'll regret ever opening his big mouth and he'll be crawling back to her on his knees, begging for forgiveness, telling her he lied, and maybe even showing her just how much he didn't mean it, if she still wants him and lets him.
But for now he's cruelly satisfied. Maybe he'll even go find Hayden to satisfy another one of his needs too.
If he does, he'll make sure to be loud.
A little longer than usual. I think I just wanted to show Tate's darker side, the side that's willing to hurt even Violet.
