Part II
"This will never end 'cause I want more, more, give me more, give me more
This will never end 'cause I want more, more, give me more, give me more
If I had a heart I could love you, if I had a voice I would sing
After the night when I wake up, I'll see what tomorrow brings...
Crushed and filled with all I found, Underneath and inside
Just to come around, more, give me more, give me more"
— If I Had A Heart, Fever Ray
He didn't know. It would never end because he couldn't, he wouldn't allow it. It was all he had left. In the end, it would always be the same, he would never be like them. Feel like them. Regret, hatred, confusion, pain, anger. All those negative emotions that weak people tender to avoid. He wasn't like them.
It wasn't really his fault, at least not completely. It was that never ending cycle that used to make him question his sanity when he first moved into this house. Back when he was alive and lived in semi-harmony with Constance and Adelaide. Whether what he truly saw was real or it was just another episode of his psychotic mess. It was probably both. He was after all a psychopath, on coke, who lived in a haunted house, that had blackouts. Nothing to worry about.
He remembered when he first saw it. Just a small boy who knew that his mother was a fucking whore. It was the only time he actually liked Constance when she said they were going to be living there. He gave her the kindest look his ever given her; a nod with a blank expression. Walking around the halls of his new home gave him such a thrill, made him wonder what he had been missing his entire life. When he got to the basement and he had discovered all those jars full of body parts, he knew. That he was never going to leave this house.
Even when they did move out, he knew he would be back. And he was right. When his bitch of a mother manipulated Larry and got them to move back. The first thing he did was go back to the basement. It was the same, damp and cold but it felt different. There was something there that was calling him for blood. That was the first time he had killed someone.
The mailman was going inside the house to deliver the mail, like always. He had gotten out of the house and was dazed, like in a dream. He wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. But he didn't care, all he could think of was blood. He remembered finding a bat in the basement and carried it with him. When he saw the mailman, something snapped inside of him. Before he knew it, Tate was bashing his head with the bat. Blood was spilling everywhere but he didn't care. He continued hitting and smashing the mailman head, making it become a red mush. He didn't stop until the bat craked, breaking him from his trance. Tate had expected himself to be horrified or revolted at the sight in front of him, but he didn't. He just felt annoyance for having to clean up this mess.
After that, Tate always wanted more, because of that crazy, dangerous, darkness was part of him. The longer he was in the house, the more it swallowed him. Made him crave blood, destruction, temptation. But he was fine with all those sins, to let them control him. Tate had adapted to the darkness, allowing him to become it. Just like she said. Just like everybody else that came across him. They would say it as an insult but Tate saw it as a victory. Not anybody can become fear itself.
He did tried to change one time. Because finally he had a good reason.
Her.
She was just like him but better. She was he could have been if he wasn't so mentally unstable or didn't have two shitty parents. There was something about her he loved. She wasn't like the other residents that had lived in the house. She wasn't fake like everybody else in L.A. She was honest and didn't give a fuck what other thoughts. She was perfect for him. He thought she could help him change. And she did, for a while. It was nice, a different change. At first, it was the scariest thing that had happened to him. To be like everybody. He liked it but he was too damaged to be like them. It was nice for as long it lasted.
Violet Harmon was his light.
She was his light that was slowly fading away because the darkness was growing around her, swallowing her until the end it would become bleak.
But Tate, despite everything shit thing in the world, knew that there were some believers that in even at the brightest time, darkness will overshadow it. That happened to him, his light was overshadowed with his own darkness. Violet had discovered all the shit he had done because those stupid fags that were still pissed for what he did to them. Couldn't they understand that he didn't have an option? He had to get a baby for Nora and he was also helping them. But they didn't see that. Instead of letting go they told Violet about of the shit he did, although some of it she already know but they reminded her what a monster her boyfriend was. A person who shot 15 students back in '94 to killing them to raping Vivien and impregnating her. It all came crashing down around him, putting him in a horrible position.
Suffering and alone in the darkness. Just like before.
Excitement would pulse through him. That was the first emotion that he would feel when he was about to do it. Then adrenaline would kick in. This was the only time when he felt free in this prison. He would get lost, forget about everything.
It's wrong, the others would say, you are a psycho.
No shit, he snorted, what did they think he was? A tamed lamb.
Of course, he was a psychopath. That's what his psychiatrist diagnosed him. Well, actually he just called him a monster. And he just assumed that was the nickname they have to people like him. Who do terrible things without remorse? Didn't experience empathy. He did feel those things (to an extent), he just didn't show them. They didn't understand him.
It would come to surprise to a lot, that most of the things he did were to help people. He impregnated Vivien to give Nora the baby she always longed for. He killed the gays, so that they can be together forever. He attacked Ben because he wanted to protect Violet from the ugly truth. He burned Larry because he had killed his brother. All those things were too make everything better. He did it for them. Why wouldn't they see that? He was always doing things for people, especially for Violet. Even if she send him away, Tate always watched over her. Took care of her. He never showed himself to her but sometimes she made it to hard.
The first time Tate showed himself to her, was when she was mutilating herself. He remembers the anger he felt watching her do that. She promised she was going to stop hurting herself, why would she cause herself pain. There was already enough people doing that, himself included.
He was going to keep to himself, just like he always did when he would watch her but he couldn't that time, it was too much. Watching the blood seep out of her leaving those ugly lines that he knew where going to heal but still bothered him to see them there. He had enough causing her to hurt, and watching her adding to his, was what broke him. Tate went towards her and took the razor from her hand. She whipped her head to see who had done that. He would never forget how she looked when she saw that it was him. He felt partially pleased that her initial reaction wasn't repulsion or anger. It was just shock and confusion.
"Don't do that," he hissed, she stared at him, shocked that he would stop her. That he would come to her when she told him to go away. "Don't hurt yourself," his voice cracked a bit, and before she could send him away he disappeared to the basement.
His breathing was heavy, of the adrenaline, left. He could feel his ear ringing, and out of confusion, he started hitting himself. That was a very stupid thing to do, but he didn't regret it. She didn't look repulsed at the sight of him, just in shock.
Maybe because you didn't give her enough time dumbass, that voice sneered in his head.
No, that's not the reason, he told the voice.
She was breaking, slowly, he could see. She didn't tell him to go away anymore and it thrilled him. But that didn't mean anything, he knew that she hasn't forgiven him, he's sure about that but at least she is accepting the fact. They would sit in silence, at times, while she would stare at the window with a bored look. And he would subtly stare at her, in the corner of his eyes, fascinating with her.
He wondered what made her allow him near her. Was it that she had lost the energy to hate him and tell him? Or was it him? Had she noticed that he had stopped killing people? That he didn't cause problems in the house and kept to himself. She should notice because he didn't do those things anymore.
And to his surprise it wasn't for her but because of him. He wasn't the same anymore. He wouldn't get the same feeling as before. He was excited because he expected those familiar feelings come to him when he finished drawing their blood, watching them take their last breaths, trying and ultimately failing to save themselves. It used to be euphoric, so beautiful, but now when he is done, in their blood, he curls up and cries. Loud, painful cries that causes goosebumps. It broke him to know that he had lost his darkness. That he could no longer be the monster he was. It was the only thing he had left and he was slowly losing it.
Banging himself against the wall, making his head explode of pain. He doesn't know why this is happening to him, what has changed. All he feels is getting trapped more, getting suffocated by this negative energy that he use to crave, love. Now all he wants is to get rid of it. To cleanse himself from its twisted ways. But he is in too deep. He is lost in the maze of his insanity.
He was a sick fucker. All those fantasies that he would have about blood, guts, vomit, piss, dead bodies. But despite all that crap, he cared about people, liked to please them. Especially women, he would do anything for them. He had mommy issues, so what. Is there a problem with that? His mother was an alcoholic cocksucker, who killed his father and brother. Anybody would that kind of shit of excuse mother would have fallen off the wagon.
But that was no excuse, his therapist would lecture him.
The first step to redemption is to admit that you have a problem.
You have to take responsibility for your own actions.
In order to heal, you have to forgive.
It takes time. Patience is the key to your happiness.
He would nod and agree, saying that he is correct. Then that day he would kill their stupid animal, because for some creepy coincidence all his therapist had animals up until he got his hands on them. He would make sure they knew it was him, to know that he thought they were fucking stupid with their methods.
One time he found a mask in the attic, of a monster. It was grotesque to look at. It wasn't human. He loved it, putting it on. It showed the monster he was from the inside. People like him, he would wonder, in the darkness, in his safe space. He's never met anyone like him. And Tate was glad. He liked feeling one of kind. A rapist who murdered more than a dozen people, a psychopath, trying to save a suicidal teenager.
How many people was there who had done all of that? Only him. It shouldn't be something to be proud of, he knew. But...
If only he felt remorse for all the terrible things he did. He wasn't born a monster, this house made him a monster. It's always the house. When he was alive he had an anger problem and didn't like people. It didn't help his case when he started snorting cocaine. And then bought guns from this guy from the music store.
Someone was in the basement. Why were they here? No one went to the basement because they all knew that it was his. And Dr. Montgomery. But he didn't count because he was the original owner so he had the right to be wherever he wanted. Other than that no one came to the basement unless they wanted to be brutally murdered by Tate.
"What are you doing?" he heard the nasal voice of Hayden say from around the corners of the basement.
What the fuck does she want to know? he screamed in his head, but out loud just grunted in displeasure.
"Tate."
"Leave me alone," he grumbled. He moved to face the concrete wall, in hopes that Hayden would get the obvious hint that he wanted her gone.
"Are you really going to pass the chance to be with someone in the house that doesn't hate you?" she smirked.
"Fucking leave," he hissed, turning his face slightly. He hated her face, that always had that stupid smug looked.
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"I don't want you here!" Tate spat, clenching his fist, feeling that white hot rage course through him.
Don't think about it Tate, he warned himself.That self-centered bitch isn't worth it.
But it would be satisfying to shut her up, a voice sang tauntingly inside his twisted head, trying to claw out.
No, he shouted, clutching his head. I don't want you! Go away!
But Tate, if you make me go away, this time, you're definitely going to be alone, it snarled. He squeezed his eyes, slamming his head against the wall, trying to drown out the voice.
"Come on Tate don't be like that," Hyden said playfully. He turned around, having forgotten that she was still here.
"Don't you understand. I don't fucking want you here. Get the fuck out!"
Hyden just gave him a frustrated look. "Why are you always like this? I'm not doing anything to you. I just want to talk to someone," her voice wavered a bit, in the end, showing how truly alone she was. If Tate felt any sympathy towards her, he would have noticed. But he was Tate Langdon. He didn't care about those things.
"Wow. You're especial kind of stupid, aren't you?" Tate said through his teeth, faking a smile when all he wanted is to strangle her with her own intestines.
She laughed and he glared. This is what has been happening almost every day. She would come to where he was hiding, and babble on until he would lose his patience and go to some other part of the house before he did something that would ruin his good streak.
He doesn't understand why Hayden lately had been trying to spend time with him. Hyden irritated him, insulted him, and she found him the whip and fucking crazy; there was no reason why they should spend time together. He hated her because she was Violet's father mistress. She is was part of the people that caused Violet pain. Not to mention she was a huge annoying bitch. All she did was whine and complain about everything that went wrong her life.
"What do you want from me? To stab you?To strangle you? Because that's what I'm getting from you right know," he snapped at her.
She smirked. "Calm down Bates Jr. I just want to talk to you."
"Why? Cause you can't fuck Hugo because he's too busy building his second Frankenstein? Or Travis, that fucking dumbass, prefers to play with the burnt children? Or is Ben's dick is too busy for you because it's being occupied by that Chad fag?" he taunted her, a cruel smile on his face.
And to his delight, Tate got the response he was looking for. Hayden's face twisted into an ugly purple, she looked like she was about to explode. Suddenly Hayden's presence was welcomed and enjoyed.
She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself making his smile grow. "Well, you're not occupied," she said through clench teeth. "How about we have sex? Huh?" She took a step towards him, her hands sliding to his legs, going higher and higher to his crotch.
He slapped them away. "Can't," Tate said immediately.
"Why? Can't get it up?" she said snidely.
"I would never do that to Violet," he muttered. "Besides, I have standards. I don't fuck desperate sluts." He gave her a mirthful smile, making her glare at him.
"She doesn't even talk to you," she sneered. "God, you're so fucking whip."
"Better to be whip than a fucking whore," he snapped, pushing her back. He looked at the floor. "And she does talk to me. Kind of."
Hyden gave him a disbelieving look. "I'm sorry but I thought that she was ignoring you?"
"She isn't ignoring me," Tate snapped, clenching his fists. Well, technically she was but he wasn't to help her point.
"So she's forgiven you?"
"No. But she will forgive me," Tate said, suddenly forgetting that he didn't want to talk to her. "Not right now, obviously, but it's gonna happen. She doesn't send me away anymore. We don't talk by we have each other company. And that's enough. You wanna know why?"
"Enlighten me, Romeo," Hayden replied sarcastically, she leaned against a wall, crossing her arms.
Tate ignored her tone and continued. "Because we're going to start talking to each other again. Like old times, about music, trees, how much we hate people." He gave her a pointed look which she responded by blowing him a kiss. "It won't be perfect, she might still hold resent me over me, probably will but I don't care because she will be there and that's all that matters. Us be together again."
Hayden stared at him. "Oh my god! You are such a fucking pussy! No wonder she doesn't want you near hear. You're pathetic," she wore a look of repulsion.
Tate wasn't bothered by her insults, her disgust over him. Hayden was a stone-hearted bitch, bitter with how her life ended up. She wasn't a romantic, like him. She had nothing to keep her sane in this house. At times he felt bad for her, she was just in love with a guy that would never feel the same, always have her bellow. But those were rare times, most of the time she was fucking any of the male ghosts from this house and stabbing them when she was done with them. Hayden would throw stuff around when ever she was pissed that Ben would ignore or see him with his wife and son.
He looked at her to see Hayden still insulting him. Calling Tate pitiful, pathetic, asshole, pussy, psychopath. he rolled his eyes, not being able to believe that she can not shut her goddamned mouth for a moment.
"... you're such a fucking shit..." her voice went on, still going on.
Tate clenched his jaw, getting tired of hearing her voice, of her presence. He wanted her to stop.
"Shut up," he whispered dangerously, his nonexistent patience wearing off. Hayden ignored him, or couldn't hear him because of her stupid, nasal voice.
His demon was snapping, growling, ready to cause pain.
"No," Tate said, clenching his fists, making his nails pierce his skin.
Yes! it hissed. Do it!
"Stop!" he ordered, to Hyden and to that voice, that was making him see black spots. Making him slip into the darkness.
Do it! Do it! He unclenched his fists, feeling his blood drip from his hands. But he didn't care. It had taken over Tate. He stalked towards her and shoved to the floor. Straddling her, he grabbed the nearest, sharpest thing he could get hold of, a metal file and then plunged it into Hyden's throat.
Hayden scream echoed in the basement. It gave him chills, making him sigh in pleasure. He got up from her.
"You asshole! You fucking psychopath!" she screeched, gagging on blood. She stood up, staggered around, pulling the file out and throwing it at him, missing. She kept screaming at him, yelling over and over how much of an asshole he was.
Tate smiled fondly, as he watched blood dripped from Hayden. She was getting drenched from all the blood. It was amusing, such a beautiful sight from an ugly thing. It made him want to do it again.
His smiled disappeared when he realized what he was thinking. The reason why Violet wouldn't talk to him. He enjoyed causing pain to people.
But that bitch had it coming, she deserved it. She called you a pussy, pathetic. She has no right, his demon whispered to him, proud of what he did. Do it again, stab her. Make her scream. Make her beg for mercy.
Tate felt himself agreeing with it. He was absolutely right. Hayden should beg for mercy. He grabbed the same file, slippery from the blood and walk towards her, who still wasn't dead. Stupid bitch.
He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her against the wall, blood splattering on him.
"Let me go! You asshole! You fucking asshole! You're going to pay for this Tate!" she tried punching him, but he grabbed both of her hands shoving them to the wall and holding them with one hand.
"This is what you want? Me to pay attention to you? You really should have left when I told you," he whispered to her before impaling the file in her right eye, making her scream in agony. "Does that hurt? Of course it does, you're screeching you pathetic whore."
He stabbed her in the face many times, even after she went limp. He couldn't stop, he wasn't in charge anymore. His demon always took over when he killed, made them suffer. He was a monster. He let go of Hayden lifeless body, kicking it to the side. He grabbed a rag and tried to take off the blood from his face. It was no use, the rag did nothing. His tears through, we're helping more to wash the blood off. He gripped his hair tightly, trying to focus on his breathing instead of blood that was pooling around him. When he felt himself start calming down from that adrenaline, he let go of his hair.
They don't forgive, they don't forget. He's never going to change. He deserved what he is getting. All the pain that he has caused, there's nothing he can change about it. He has forever, he can wait. In the end, the darkness will win. He is fine with the darkness controlling him as long as she doesn't become like him, a monster. He wants to protect her, even if he has failed her many times. But he will try to change.
He looked around the mess, the blood pooling around Hyden's momentarily dead body, the broken glassed that he must have broken during their altercation. One last glance before he disappeared from the basement, wanting to forget what he did.
She was there, in the room with him. He could hear her hesitant steps toward him. But he didn't glance at her. He just continued with his rocking, letting his set movements calm him down. He could feel himself slowly relaxing, loosing all of that hatred and bloodlust.
Violet crouched down in front of him, casting a shadow over him and tilted his head with her finger, forcing him to look at her. He stopped moving, seeing her face clearly. Its been such a long time since her face had been inches away from him. She hasn't changed a bit.
"Tate," she whispered again, her eyes were glassy, she looked like she was about to cry. "Look at me."
He stared at her, emotions whirling inside him. Why was she here? Crap! Did she find out what he did to Hayden? Was she here to yell at him? He didn't want that right now. He should go but he wanted to stay with Violet.
"What's wrong?"
He stared at her, wanting to tell her that he was alone and that he missed her. He was sorry for what he did and there was nothing he could do to take it back. He was trying to change but couldn't because he was to taint with all the blood he has spilled and is permanently on him.
"I stabbed Hayden in the throat. Multiple times, first out of anger and the other times out of pure pleasure," Tate felt himself panicking as he told her the truth, afraid that she was going to send him away again.
Violet, whose face was unresponsive, then she pulled away. Tate's panic went haywire. Oh no, she's going to go away. He felt like crying when she started laughing. Violet was laughing loud, her eyes shining of amusement.
"Holly crap! Really? That's amazing! I mean, I knew something bad had happened but I never thought it was that! That's fucking awesome! It really is Tate! I hate that bitch so much." She was laughing still, smiling widely at him.
He was confused. Why wasn't she angry at him? He did something horrible, he acted like a monster and instead of yelling at him, she's practically congratulating him. Maybe she's become the darkness, just like him.
She noticed that he hadn't said anything and stopped laughing, she tilted her head to the side, confused. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Tate, finally stood up, frowned. "Why are you not angry at me?"
She looked bemused. "Because I have nothing to be angry at you?" she said slowly.
"Yes you do," he whispered.
Her face became stoic, remembering everything that he did. He flinched, knowing that she was going to leave him again. He took a deep breath preparing for her to go. Instead, she walked toward him and extended her towards him. Hesitantly he took her hand, their fingers interlocking.
"Do you want to play checkers?" she asked casually.
Tate tried to suppress his smile, just nodding.
"Let's go to my room," and in a second they were there. He hasn't been in the room for such a long time. It looked the same except it was missing many pieces of furniture, the bed included. It only had a rocking chair and a desk that had a stack of CD's. Tate walked over to the CD's and smiled when he found Morrissey. She still had it. He remembered when he gave it to her a few years ago on her birthday. Tate had left it in the bathroom she would usually take showers. It was the only place that he could think of leaving it where she would find it and none of the other ghosts would get it. He didn't really know what she did to it, never had heard of her but now seeing it, it pleased him that she had it. It showed that a part of her still cared for her.
Meanwhile, Violet had walked over to the closet and pulled out the checkerboard and its pieces. Placing it down on the floor, she sat down Indian style, like she had done it before many times.
Tate stayed where he was, not sure what to do. He felt like he was on thin ice. One wrong mood and he would drown in the coldness. He hadn't realized that as much as he waited for this moment to come, he hadn't considered what to do when it came. His entire thoughts were consumed to just get her to at least acknowledge him that nothing else matters. And now here he was, where he wanted to be, not sure what to do. Obviously, they weren't to go back to what they were once. But they can try and at least see what could happen.
Noticing him by the desk, Violet motioned him to sit down next to her. "Get over here. We can't play if you stay there."
Nodding, he walked towards her cautiously. Tate sat down next to her, not too close to scare but not far away to show his fear.
"FWY, I'm color red," she informed him, getting all the red checkers and placing them to her side. "And I'm always going to be that color."
He wanted to protest, say that he always got red and she got black. But he kept quiet, simply smiling. Instead, he picks up the black piece and examined it. How ironic. He was black and she was red. It fit them.
"Alright. I guess I get black," he put them on his side, looking up to see her watching him with a slight smile. He smiled to himself, looking down to his pieces.
Black for his darkness, for how tainted he was, for what he did.
And red for her anger. Towards him, her parents, Hyden. Her strong personality that didn't deal with bullshit.
Together, black and red, they would try to understand each other.
End of Part II
First of all, I'm so sorry for the long update. I am absolutely horrible. I never meant for that to happen, it just did. Hope you like it and don't think its shitty. But I finished it! So hope you liked it! And if you like the shows of Teen Wolf, or the 100, check out my stories!
Also, there are a few things I want to point out. Like Tate's opinion for Chad and Patrick is envisaged he is homophobic (as it was seen in the show) and his hatred towards Hyden is because she has done a lot of shit to Violet. So that means I don't feel like that. I have nothing against Chad or Patrick(I kinda do, he was an ass to Chad)or Hyden. I like all these characters, I was just presenting them in Tate's point of view.