It was pouring rain outside, but in my room, under the blankets with Vi it was so peaceful; the only peace I'd ever known in this house. The cocksucker, Larry, and Addie were away until late tonight at some business bullshit of his. They had wanted me to come, but I didn't even bother responding when they banged on my door this morning. Violet would be leaving for Boston with her dad and sister to spend the Christmas holiday, so we wouldn't be seeing each other for ten days, and there was no way I was going to spend the last day I could see her before she left play-acting the happy family with them. Ten days seemed such a long time too; my stomach twisted into knots every time I thought about it, but she was really happy, and I tried to keep that in mind.
I was surprised that Violet came into the house at all, but it didn't seem to bother her. After I had lured Thaddeus out of the shadows with a raw, bloody steak she hadn't screamed or fainted, but it was the only time I ever saw her scared; she couldn't stop shaking for hours. When she finally did she had refused to talk about it at all. Occasionally she's throw the basement door a wary glance on her way in, but otherwise she seemed perfectly at ease.
My mind was drifting, thinking about watching her play with her sister from the attic window; she was so kind to her. I couldn't help thinking about her chasing around children of our own, and scooping them up in her arms and loving them just like she did with Vera. Violet was next to me reading a book, and my hand slipped unconsciously to rest on her stomach. "Do you ever think about having kids?" I asked before I could stop myself. She turned her head to look at me. "Someday maybe". She said vaguely. "After Vera I know how much work they are." And she turned back to her book.
She was increasingly vague every time I mentioned the future lately. It was the one thing we couldn't talk about, and it worried me. There was a niggling little voice in the back of my head that was hoping she would get pregnant; just a "happy accident". I just wanted something to bind us together, and the more vague she about the future the harder it got to shut those thoughts out. It was even harder to block out the thought that maybe she didn't want me in the same way that I wanted her; maybe she didn't want forever. I tried to focus on her warmth next to me, and the smoothness of her skin where our legs touched. Anything to distract myself from the poisonous thoughts in my head.
The doorbell rang and I pulled some pants on and ran downstairs to get the pizza we ordered. When I got back to the bedroom Violet was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands looking shaken. "Vi?" I asked gently from the door. She practically came out of her skin. "Are you okay?" She said she was fine, just got a bad headache all of the sudden. But she seemed distracted the rest of the day, and her demeanor was cold when I kissed her goodbye. Something had ruined our last day together before she left. I lay in bed, feeling the anger building up inside; it must have been something I'd done. I got up and pulled a dull razor from a box in one of my drawers and dug it into my skin over and over again.
No one was home when I walked through the door late that evening. I was soaked to the bone after walking back from Tate's in the pouring rain, but I barely noticed it. I immediately went into my dad's study and tried the file cabinet. It was locked, so I ran upstairs and started rifling around his room until I found a set of small keys on a ring hidden between his mattress and box spring of his bed. I didn't know how long I had, so I whipped his file out, locked the cabinet, and put the keys back.
After debating for a few minutes I changed into dry clothes, shoved the file in my bag, and left a quick note to my dad saying I'd be home later later before driving up to Pasadena to sit in an unfamiliar coffee shop and read it undisturbed.
I prepare for the noble war...
I closed the file several hours later after reading every single page. This was bad. I thought about the boxes of guns I had inadvertently found under Tate's bed when I dropped my book on the floor. Fantasies were one thing, but this was different; this was action, preparation. I had accepted that he could be violent. I knew his history, and I knew why he was in therapy. It shouldn't have surprised me to see those guns, but it did. My phone suddenly buzzed with a text reminding I still hadn't packed and we'd be leaving in a few hours.
I crashed out on the plane, and woke up in Boston bleary-eyed and dazed. We had to do the family merry-go-round, but as soon as I could I took off to see my friends from the record store; since my mom died they were the family I could turn to. We met up at a coffee shop in South End not far from my Uncle's house, and spent hours abusing each others current music choices, to say nothing of the fair amount of shit I took for living in L.A. It wasn't until Charlie and his wife Lisa were walking me home that the subject of Tate came up. "Who called you? You looked like you'd seen a ghost." Charlie asked.
"Tate. Something happened last night, right before I left L.A."
"Something bad, I take it."
"Yeah. You know I told you he was one of my dad's patients? Well the reason is that he has fantasies of going on a shooting rampage at our school." I saw Charlie and Lisa exchange a glance.
"And you just found this out?" Worry coloring his tone.
"No, I've known that pretty much from the first time I met him." He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly concerned, but I held up a hand to stop him. "I know. I know I sound crazy for ignoring it." Defeat in my voice. "But you don't understand. Tate and I... it's hard to explain. From the moment I saw him it was done. He was all I wanted, and vice-verse. We're both just fucked up kids, and I know you'll say there will be other guys in the future, but save it. I need him like a fucking drug, and whatever comes in the future will only ever be a shadow of that."
Lisa put an arm around my shoulder. "Calm down Vi. If you've known all this what happened?" She said soothingly.
"I accepted that he's had a troubled past, and has troubled thoughts, and everything, okay? But when I was at his house I looked under his bed and found a whole stash of guns." I caught their expressions. "Yeah. That's only half of what's bothering me though." And I quickly explained about my dad's attempt to separate us, and how we were supposed to have total honesty with each other. "He didn't lie to me, but he didn't tell me about it either, and right now I'm feeling really betrayed over it. I had this huge fight with my dad over him, and it's just a fucking mess."
"Do you think he'd hurt you?" Charlie asked.
"No. I don't know... maybe. In his fantasy he doesn't shoot the people that have been mean to him, but the ones that he likes; sort of like a mercy killing. Right now though I'm more worried that he'd actually go through with it than him hurting me. I mean judging from his little collection he's definitely planned for it."
We reached my Uncle's house, and Lisa slid her hand down to hold mine. "We'll see you again before you go. Violet, you're a smart girl; you've always found solutions to your problems, and I know you will with this one too." Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. "You can always come talk to us if you need to. Even if you just need a break from your family, come by the shop for a while." Lisa kissed me on the cheek and they walked off towards the subway. I watched them go with regret. I really missed my surrogate family, and right now I felt like my best option was just to refuse to get back on the plane and stay here forever.
As the days passed I continued to avoid Tate's calls, and was spending increasing amounts of time at the shop. Since I couldn't talk to my dad about it - he'd be on the phone to the cops in a minute and Tate would be in a psych ward within hours - Charlie and Lisa bore the brunt of my brooding. The day before I left I was especially forlorn, and in between customers Lisa asked if I'd come up with a solution to my problems. "No. I'm really good at manipulating information, like I did with that girl who was bullying me, but this is different. It requires direct action, and that's limiting, or at least my inexperience with it is limiting my imagination." My frustration seeping through by the end.
"What are you going to do when you get home? You go to the same school, and live close by each other, so how's that going to work? Have you even talked to him since you left?"
"A few times, but I made excuses to get off the phone quickly. I can tell from his voice that he's pretty upset right now, but what am I supposed to do? Say 'oh by the way I found your stockpile, you want to explain that?'" I said sarcastically before putting my head in my hands.
"Well, yeah." Her voice clearly said duh. "Why not talk to him about it. I mean you can't avoid him forever."
"It's not talking to him I'm worried about, it's the answers I'll get. Sometimes ignorance isn't bliss, but it's better than the alternative."
As soon as we got back to L.A. I dropped my bags in my room and went grab my car keys when I saw a letter on my bed. I didn't even stop to wonder how he got into the house with the new security system.
Violet,
Something's changed in you, toward me. You're cold, and distant. I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone from now on if that's what you want. Is that what you want? You know why I'd leave you alone? Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you. I would never let anybody, or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone, but you've changed me. Please forgive me.
I love you so much more than you know - Tate
By the time I finished I could feel the tears flowing down my face. How could I tell him that what was hurting me right now was him? And even through the hurt that I loved him too? I wiped my tears away, and drove to the beach, the letter clutched in my hand. I sat in my car smoking until well after midnight hoping for some sort of resolution, but mostly just feeling like shit. When I got home I added fresh cuts borne of pain and frustration to my arms.
When I still couldn't sleep hours later I crept downstairs to get some water. I was standing in the dark kitchen when I saw Tate on the sidewalk looking up at my window. He looked as awful as I felt. As I watched him I tried to convince myself he couldn't do all the terrible things he thought about, but when he walked away I dumped the water in the sink and replaced it with vodka.
The next two days I spent locked in my room. Monday was a new torture though. As I walked between classes I could feel Tate there, haunting my every move, even when I couldn't see him. His face was pained, then confused, then angry, and then filled with pain again; oddly colorless, almost transparent with the lack of masking his emotions. I couldn't focus on anything. I tried to do all the things I should be doing - taking notes, being "involved" - but all I could think about was his face. I didn't know I had the capacity to feel pain like this. I felt flayed open, raw; I was tied to the stake and burning from the inside. By third period I had to get out of there before I collapsed screaming hoping for some sort of relief from the pain of being so close, and yet unable to bridge the gulf that had developed between us.
I drove home in a daze; muttered something to my dad about not feeling well, and collapsed on my bed. I was too trapped in the pain to do anything other than curl into a ball under my covers. I stayed home for four days, barely eating or sleeping. Wondering how the pain hadn't crushed me, melted me out of existence yet. How it was made worse by his frightful silence, because true to his word he'd left me alone. It was dark outside when my dad came quietly into my room and set a cup of tea of my nightstand. I felt the bed sink as he sat down next to me, and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Violet?" He shook my lightly.
"I brought you some tea. Are you feeling better?"
I pulled myself up, and reached for it. "No."
I could feel his worry rolling off him in waves. "Vi, I want you to see a doctor. I've never seen you this bad, even after your mom died."
"I had to be strong then, for you." I said quietly. "I couldn't let you see how bad it was."
He pulled the cup out of my hands and set it down before wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry I have to ask you this Vi, but Tate missed his appointment today. Should I be worried?" He felt my body go rigid. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "But he's still my patient, and you know him better than anyone." There was no triumph in his voice. Tate and I being apart was now a hollow victory for him.
"Why are you so concerned about him now? I know what goes on in your sessions; the two of you sniping at each other once a week can hardly be therapeutic." I snapped.
"I don't know what he's told you Vi -"
"He hasn't told me anything." Anger flooding my voice. "But I'm not stupid, and I'm not deaf."
"You've been listening?"
"What do you think?" He was stunned into silence. "He's fine. You don't have to worry about being blamed for anything he's done."
"Are you hungry?" He asked timidly. "I could bring you something up on a tray if you don't want to come downstairs?" He was trying to keep his voice light, but the strain was apparent.
"The tea is enough." He sensed the dismissal, and kissed me on the forehead before leaving. I lay there for a long time, perfectly still, trying to calm myself.
He might have avoided his appointment today to give my space, or to avoid my dad gloating, or any number of reasons. It was all bullshit; I knew what was coming, could feel it in the air around me. I reached under my bed and pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from the carton, and opened my window to the harsh cold of the night air. I waited, hoping I was wrong, and knowing I wasn't; my stomach a tense knot, my body shaking from the stress. When 1AM rolled around and I still hadn't seen him the guilt of that much blood on my hands, even indirectly, pushed me to action.
I flicked my bathroom light on, and for the first time in days looked in the mirror to find a blank shell of a person staring back. Something my mom said came floating back "The thing is when you fall in love, it's kinda like you go crazy. Before you know it the whole world is different, and then you'd do anything for the other person." So true, mom. I cleaned myself up as best I could, and silently left my house to walk around the block.
When I reached his house I could see light behind the curtains of his window. Even having to throw the pebble in my hand from the sidewalk I could hit it, but I dropped the stone to the ground, and climbed over the locked gate. I crept to the side door, and pulled out the key they kept hidden under a flowerpot and let myself in; feeling short burst of relief that Tate's door was unlocked. I slipped though as quietly as I could, the lock setting no louder than a whisper when I twisted it.
When I faced the room it struck me that it was unnaturally tidy. Everything was in its place, and the bed was perfectly made. Even the mirror on the desk, perfectly centered on it's top, had neat little lines of white powder. He was sitting on the bed, facing away from me, twitching and muttering. The air between us felt heavy, thick. I caught some of his words, something about a forest and being scraped up off his knees. As I walked up I said his name quietly, but he didn't seem to be aware of my presence. It wasn't until I was a few feet behind him, flush with the end of his bed, that I reached out and touched his shoulder.
His back heaved with a sob, and he whipped around and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me into the mattress; straddling me, knocked the wind out of me. My hands grabbed his arm, but otherwise I didn't fight, too lost in the darkness of his eyes to offer any resistance. For the first time I felt how fragile and small I was, how tenuous this grasp on life we have is. I tried fruitlessly to draw a breath as stars popped in my field of vision, but all I could see was his beautiful face twisted into a mask I didn't recognize. My last thought before the darkness enveloped me was how terrible, and beautiful, and right it was that he should be the one to drain the life from me.