The thing about trying to figure out what to pack is that once you get past the non-essentials, underwear and iPod and laptop, it gets tricky. Cal would be coming home tomorrow, and I was sitting on the floor of my study holding several books in my hands, trying to decide which one was the most important. I heard feet scuffing the floor behind me, but didn't bother turning around.
"What are you doing?" There was anger, and panic, and sadness in his voice, but it was so much more than its parts.
"You told me you'd always be here, if that's what I wanted."
"Yeah." He breathed out.
"You left me alone."
"So did you."
"So it was pay back?"
He sat down behind me and brushed my hair aside, kissing the nape of my neck. "No."
"Then what was it?"
"I guess you could say I was keeping a promise. I told you I cared about your feelings more than mine, and I did, do; that's why I stayed away."
"Is that all the answer I'm going to get?"
There was a long, guilty silence before I broke it. "Why didn't you let me die?"
"I told you I loved you, and your tried to kill yourself. You were scared of me after you learned what I did. I loved you enough not to want you stuck here when you wouldn't be happy." He sat down and nuzzled his face into my neck. "I'm sorry I left you alone; I did it because I love you." I turned my head to look at him. "Stay with me, please, even if it's just for tonight."
I let him lead me to the bedroom. It reminded me so much of our first time together; a mutual quiet desperation to just be together before we were separated indefinitely. So much time had passed, but a lot of things never changed: I still only felt whole and myself when I was with Tate.
He was looking into my eyes like he was trying to memorize their depths when I felt him sink into me. I reveled in the feeling of the press and pressure of him against me and inside of me. I wanted to remember how safe and happy I felt under him, how much we loved and longed for each other. We came together, and afterwards we held each other tightly, whispering things we'd never said before, and probably wouldn't again, but needing to say and hear them all the same. The only thing we never talked about was me leaving. We fell asleep tangled together, and when I woke up the sun had barely risen.
I left the bed as gently as I could, not wanting to disturb him, and padded softly down to my office to pull a letter from the desk drawer. I stuck it to the door of the bathroom and went inside, pulling some sleeping pills and a razor from the cabinet as the water ran. I took a double dose of the pills and got in waiting for them to take effect. I heard Tate yelling from the bedroom and his frantic footsteps that passed the door and then hurried back. It was absolutely silent for a heartbeat and then he was next to me. He crouched down and took my hand in his, his expression unfathomable, asking me silent questions.
"I wasn't ready before; I was scared. I'm not anymore." He had both of his hands wrapped around the one of mine I had hanging out of the tub. "Will you stay with me?" It was childish, and my voice shook a little because it was still frightening, the magnitude of the choice I was making, but he nodded solemnly. "Will you be there when I wake up?"
"I'll always be here with you." He breathed.
"There's a manila envelope in my desk with your name on it. Have it for me when I wake up." I was worried I wouldn't remember why I was doing this so I had written myself a long letter detailing everything from the move to my decision a few days ago. It also contained several thousand dollars in cash, the proceeds from pawning my wedding ring the day before; at least Halloween would be fun.
The pills were starting to take effect, and my lids were drooping. His hand cupped my cheek. "Vi?"
I forced my eyes open and showed him the razor in my hand. "I waited too long. Can you?" He pulled the arm furthest from him across my body and made deep vertical cuts, making me wince. When he was done I dropped it in the water, the blood blooming around me. He did the same to my other arm, but held my hand in his. I felt the blood flowing down, coating our hands, bonding us together as we sat there. "This is more romantic than my wedding." I mumbled, and felt Tate press his lips to mine.
Her face was inches from mine. I was waiting; I had been waiting all day. I had moved us into the little workshop built along one side of the garage that no one else could get into; no one alive anyway, and the dead didn't care enough to bother. I couldn't let her wake up in the house; it would hurt her too much. So we were cocooned in the blankets I stole from the guest room, on top of a dense foam mat I'd moved in here after the last owners fled and left it behind.
He hadn't gotten home yet to find the body, and my nerves felt like they were frayed and pulling apart. I didn't want her to be conscious for that, and as every minute ticked down the likelihood it would happen got greater and greater. It wasn't my only worry either. I was terrified by her decision. It was so much like the last time she tried to kill herself, and I worried that she would regret it. She hadn't wanted me to stop her this time; she didn't say anything about it before, and had tried to hide away from me when she did it.
I could have stopped her, I guess, saved her one more time. I didn't though because I was selfish; I had already endured six years without her, and if I didn't find a way to keep her here I'd never see her again, I was sure of it. In that moment I didn't really care if she'd regret it or not; she was stuck here, with me forever. But that was the problem; what if she woke up and didn't want me? Once my selfishness waned, shame followed in its wake, and nasty little thoughts started picking at my brain.
"Why didn't you save her again?" I looked away from Violet's face to see Moira sitting on a battered old trunk at the other end of the room.
"She didn't want me to."
"She didn't want you to the last time either." She snapped.
"She didn't know it meant being stuck here forever the last time. She knows now, and this was her choice." Moira held her tongue, silently glaring at me across the small space. "What was I supposed to do? Save her and force her out of the house? Make her go away?"
"You're a selfish little monster." Her voice was full of revulsion.
"You wouldn't understand." I choked out. "You've never loved anyone in life or death. Love makes you selfish; you always want to feel it, and you'll do anything to keep feeling it. She's hurting her family, everyone, to keep feeling it, and I'm risking her regret."
She disappeared, and I started watching Violet again. I kept trying to remind myself that she had chosen this; she had chosen me, and this semblance of life. It didn't work. As I watched her all my shortcomings rose up, almost palpable in their dimensions. There was nothing worthwhile here, nothing to love. Even as a child I had been unlovable; the cocksucker had taught me as much. I made her silent promises, bargaining with fate or God or whatever for her happiness.
I was so warm and comfortable that I didn't want to wake up. I felt a hand on my face, warm and calloused and gentle, the thumb grazing over my cheek, and I opened my eyes to find Tate watching me. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay, I love you." His voice was too quiet and strained to be reassuring. "Do you remember?"
I closed my eyes and thought back. "Kind of. I remember why I did, and you finding me. After that it's kind of like images, you know?" I remembered the blood, my blood, covering our hands. I sat up trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes, and took in the unfamiliar space. "Where are we?"
He explained about moving me to the garage, and how we were hidden away. "We can stay in here as long as we need to." He picked up a carton if cigarettes from beside the makeshift bed and smiled at me. "I came prepared."
"Is he… did he find… has he come home yet?" I really hated putting Callum through this, but it was the only way. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the guilt.
"No." His voice was full of stress and worry as he watched the emotions play across my face. A thick, suffocating blanket of silence had descended before he spoke again, his voice on the verge of tears, broken and pained. "Vi, you still want this don't you?" I opened my eyes and took in the desolation on his face.
"I don't have any regrets." I whispered. "I'm just sorry that I have to put Cal through finding the body and telling my parents; all the messy viscera of death." I felt his hand rubbing my arm. "I'm where I want to be." He pulled me down, holding me tightly against his chest. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"This. Taking care of me. Making it easier."
"That's all I've ever wanted to do from the first time I saw you." He kissed the top of my head.
Once the wonderment and worry wore off I was tired again. I yawned. "I must have been asleep, or whatever for a while. Why am I so tired?"
"Because you're new. It will wear off in a few days." He said gently and I relaxed into his side, listening to the soft patter of rain on the roof above us feeling weirdly happy. It was an odd condition for me; I had never really been a happy person, and I didn't quite know how to handle it. When he started murmuring Keats I smiled at the contrast; he was… well… a mass murdered, and yet with me, cocooned under the blankets, he was also a hopeless romantic. It was always a dichotomy I had struggled with; he would always be the boy who cried when he told me he loved me, and the one who had killed 15 people at Westfield High. But it was always all him, and I loved him.
His voice was soft and full of emotion and the patter of the rain on the roof was soporific. I was drifting in and out when I heard the automatic garage door kick to life. I sat up, looking at the wall that Cal was on the other side of, my emotions chaotic.
He tugged me back down to him, kissing me roughly before I buried my face in his chest; one of his hands over my exposed ear, the other clutching me against him protectively. It felt like an eternity later that I felt his voice rumble through his chest, and he released me. "It's done." He said simply.
"Who were you talking to?"
"Moira. Do you want to know the details?" I just shook my head. "We'll get him to leave soon enough, but until then you don't have to see him if you don't want to." He reached his hand up and cupped my cheek. "It will be okay, I promise. Are you still tired?" When I thought about it I was, so we lay back the way we were, and I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the rain and his voice.
"I hate this game."
"That's because I always kick your ass." She smirked at me as she pulled a card off the stack. "Ha! You lose two units from your army." I grumbled but removed the pieces. As soon as I was done with Callum this stupid game was going in the trash. "Well it's not my fault you suck at strategy games. Two more moves and I'm going to crush your stupid Continental Army." She was hunched over the board, cigarette between her fingers, looking incredibly smug.
"Your strategy for getting rid of Him hasn't been so successful." She gave me a fake half smile and flipped me off. "I want to be the British next time." I stared at the board trying to find a move away from her attack, but I couldn't see any.
"I'll just beat you worse; you have the advantage you know." She wiped my men out, and smiled at me. "But if it makes you feel better, fine." I should just light the board on fire. "So what are your plans?"
"To kill him."
"Payback for losing every time?"
I smiled. "Yeah."
She rolled her eyes. "Thanks." She lay back on the bed, and I moved the board to lie next to her. "Seriously though, what are you going to do?"
"Lure him into the basement and let him meet Thaddeus." I couldn't suppress the glee in my voice at the thought. I'd bet he'd piss himself just like that little cheerleader before I shot her.
"I still think I should be there."
"No." My voice was emphatic and firm. We'd talked about it a lot, but I wouldn't budge. If He knew Violet was still here he'd be tempted to stay and we couldn't have that. She sighed next to me, but didn't fight me on it; I knew she thought it would freak him out, but I wasn't so sure, and I wasn't going to risk it. "I am feeling a little nervous though." I said seriously as I rolled on top of her. "Wanna make out for a while before I go?" She laughed and tried to push me off. "Who has the advantage now?" I asked, sarcasm heavy in my voice.
"You win." She reached her lips to mine, and kissed me.
"Fuck you two are revolting."
Violet startled under me. "Damn it, Hayden!"
"Seriously. Eternity is going to suck having you two around."
"Jealous?" I sneered before Violet punched me playfully in the side. "Ow, fuck, there's no need for that."
"Be nice."
"Nice to see you've met your match psycho-boy. Anyway, play time; he's asleep." She said cryptically; Violet groaned.
"It's going to be okay." I whispered, and kissed her swiftly before I was gone, coming out of the shadows in the master bedroom.
I watched the man sleeping in the bed in front of me and let my anger simmer to the surface. I had promised Vi I wouldn't kill him, but that didn't mean I couldn't hurt him. We had tried being nice about this, for Violet's sake, for the last month but it wasn't happening, so now it was time to do it my way. I picked up a heavy book on the small table next to me, and dropped it flat on the floor; it landed with a loud smack, stirring him from sleep. "You need to leave." He sat up, confused, his eyes raking the dark room until he spotted me. "She doesn't want you here."
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" He whipped around to open his nightstand.
"Looking for this?" I pointed the gun at him, his gun, and he froze in fear. "You know, it's been a while since I held a gun in my hand. I miss the weight of it sometimes." I looked down at it, my thumb caressing the side as I did. "Have you ever shot anyone? Probably not; you're a doctor, so there's that whole 'do no harm' thing, isn't there?" He was frozen in fear. "I have; lots of people." I smiled at him. "In a funny way that's how I met Violet."
"How do you know my wife?" He spluttered.
"She's not your wife." I snapped. "But you see if I hadn't killed all those people the cops wouldn't have killed me, and I wouldn't have met her. I've wondered sometimes if that's why I had to die, so I could be here for her. I like to think of it that way." I let out a sigh. "I don't really believe it though. I mean what benevolent God would give me her as a gift? That's not really the point though. She doesn't want you here."
"Who?" He sounded completely bewildered.
"Violet." I said her voice softly, reverentially. I looked back at the gun, and suddenly felt revolted by it. I let it clatter to the floor and rubbed my hand on my jeans as if I could remove the taint of it from my skin.
"She's dead." His voice was harsh and angry. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?"
He mirrored my movements as I stood up. I expected him to shrink from me, but he didn't and it gave me hope that maybe I would get an excuse to hurt him. "You could say I'm the other man, but that's not quite right; you were the trespasser."
"You slept with my wife?" He screamed.
"She was never yours!" I screamed back. "We've always belonged to each other, and now we always will. I should thank you for bringing her back, but I can't. I spent too many nights watching you defile her to be thankful. It was a little easier though, knowing she was thinking of me when your dick was in her." I smirked. "And it was my baby, by the way, not yours." I disappeared, reappearing at the end of the hall. I could hear his frantic scrambling, and then he was in the doorway looking at me. He charged down, sidestepping Beau with one horrified glance, but I was gone, waiting at the foot of the stairs in the foyer.
He spotted me from the second story landing, and flew down the stairs, but the only person waiting for him was Maria, murmuring like a pathetic broken record, making him scream in fear. He caught sight of me again as I passed into the dining room where the Dhalia was laid out in all her dismembered glory. He checked on the door when he saw her, fighting down the vomit; I almost laughed. For a doctor he seemed to have a weak stomach. He focused on me though, and lunged across the room, barely giving me time to disappear through the basement door.
I was sitting in the old white rocking chair when he found me, storming up and shaking from anger and fear, but before he could do anything Thaddeus laid him flat on his back making me howl with maniacal laughter as I watched them struggle. Moira ran out of the shadows and screamed 'go away' banishing the little freak to the shadows before she drug the bloody and bruised doctor to his feet.
I watched invisibly from the foyer as he bolted out the door, and a moment later his car sped off down the driveway. Violet appeared at my side, and I wrapped an arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder. I couldn't help smiling at her in triumph. She just rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around me.
