Violet's head pounded. She was stuck in the attic, tied to a chair. Shit, last night, her mind flipped through memories but only came up with one. She had been teetering on the edge of sleep; her arm was stretched out off the bed. Her eyes were closed, her heart beat slowing. Suddenly, her hand was grabbed by a cold one and the fingers of the monster closed around hers. She knew it was him. She didn't move. She just let him hold her hand. It was the only affection she had received from him in a long time. Maybe he dug through his head and found the feelings he had seemingly lost for her. She wanted to open her eyes to find his lovingly ones staring at her but she didn't want to ruin the moment.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Tate entering the room. She only then became aware of the piece of cloth stuck in her mouth. His head was cocked to the side as he walked up to her trapped body. He had a gun in his hand. He put it to his target and aimed. Violet squirmed. Sure she was already dead but all her foggy mind did was attempt to scream and cry. Tate couldn't help but notice the way her neck pulled from side to side and her collarbones were glistening with sweat from the struggle. She wasn't anyone he cared about. He should just get rid of her, he thought. As he went to pull the trigger his heart ached for a reason he didn't know. He couldn't do it. Why? Why couldn't he kill this girl?
He instantly decided he would have to devise another plan.
"Shhhhhhh," he whispered to her still straining figure.