AN:Hey guys! Thank you so much for your feedback last chapter! I really appreciate it :3 This one will definitely be longer ^-^! There's sort of a triggering scene in this chapter about self harm, if you don't like it, skip it (^_^) I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, remember to leave reviews! ily guys J
Chapter 2
Why can't I just sleep forever? Maybe then life would be less boring if I was stuck in my dreams. The thing about sleeping, for me is that at night, I can't sleep. Voices and carnage in my head take over, and if I close my eyes, frightening images and visions come to life. Maybe that's why I'm not afraid of anything. I've already experienced the fear, so the things everyone else is afraid of, are nothing compared to what I see. Finally after a long fucking time I drift off into sleep. Then, I can't wake up, and I'm better off not waking up. I decided to get up anyways so I could finish unpacking. I had a lot of free time on my hands so my room was already set. There were just a couple more books in my room that needed to be placed on the bookshelves and boxes of shit that needed to be placed somewhere. I finally came across a box that said "Violet's things" written really sloppy in expo marker. I opened it to find some clothes and a small cylinder box made of authentic handcrafted wood. I grabbed the box and quickly planted it under my bed. After I got packed I dressed for school: I wore a fiery dull orange crochet dress with a gray sweater underneath and black tights. (The one she wore when Leah tried to make her eat the cigarette) I didn't dress to impress anyone. I dressed for me. I hardly looked in the mirror because I didn't care about my appearance: if my hair was messy, if I had any facial dysfunctions, even if I was wearing my clothes on backwards- It's just school, who would I need to attract? I grabbed my flat top, black pork pie hat and set it upon my head. When I was satisfied that I was ready, I went downstairs into my dad's office and opened several of his drawers until I found a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. I snuck them into my bag and headed to the kitchen to find Mom talking to our old wrinkly maid, Moira.
"Hey mom, going to school, bye." I rushed.
"Violet, honey don't you want some breakfast?" Mom questioned politely.
"Not hungry." I replied quickly.
"Well, listen, I'm really glad you're taking this move well. I know it must be really hard, and with your father and I are still working on our relationship. But hey, this could be a good experience to make new friends and find people with the same interest as you.." she droned on, probably unaware I wasn't listening.
"That's great, Mom." I smiled sheepishly. I don't know why I was in such a rush, I guess I just wanted to leave the house.
~Westfield High~
High school. The era in one's life when all their hopes and dreams flush down the fucking toilet. What a great place, right? My first impression of Westfield High was that it exercised teenager's minds to think they're the shit. The real deal. Nice one Los Angeles. I arrived at my locker to find some short black girl in a headband walk up to me. Freshman, obviously.
"Hello, uh welcome to your first day of 10th grade, I see you've already found your locker, Vi-Violet Harmon.." The girl greeted, reading off a professional-looking sheet of tan paper. So she was those tour guide people. I don't need any fucking tour guide thank you. The girl talked with stamina in her voice, like how they do in the insurance commercials.
"Uh, thanks but I'm good, I don't need a tour." I insisted as polite as possible, although I came off sort of cruel and pissed off.
"Oh! Y-yes of course! Um, goodbye!" She stuttered as I left and began to analyze the halls. Everyone here, boy, girl, dickhead, slut, they were all the same. The girls were dopey and fake, wearing so much makeup it could peel off their face in seconds. The boys were like Ken Dolls, strutting to class, almost like plastic. East Coast was so much better; we didn't have much variety so not many people didn't get along, except me. I was the only different one I guess. This school had jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, emos, anything you can imagine, it's there. The only thing is, they're all fakes. I know, I tend to stereotype a lot, but what can I say, I guess that's human nature. My plan for school here, is exactly my plan back in East Coast, keep your head down, get through the day quickly, don't bother talking to anyone or looking at anyone, they're not worth the time and the drama. That's the plan. I got through my Literature, my first period, and then Spanish, World Geography, and then Biology. I practically slept throughout Spanish and secretly listened to The Kinks on my crappy iPod in Biology. Finally it was lunch. Of course, I didn't eat, I was never fucking hungry. But at least I could listen to music, read a book, and maybe even smoke a cigarette in peace. As I arrived to the cafeteria, I lighted up my Marlboro and inhaled the anticipating smoke that swirled in my lungs like heaven, burning deep and heavy in my throat, full of life. As I exhaled, I watched a group of girl discuss, all of them wearing odd clothing like magenta leopard or neon denim which was pretty fucking funny to stare at their poor style choice.
"So I let him." The bitch in the leopard bragged in a cocky manner
"Do you coke off your nipples?" another girl asked the bitch eagerly.
"They were numb for like, two days." The bitch replied, staring at me. What the hell was her problem? Her skanky dress swayed as she came up to me.
"Hey!" she huffed fiercely, clearly yelling at me with great rudeness in her voice. Goddamn, she had so much makeup it must take hours to put it on and take it off. Her cruel misty blue eyes blazed into mine with anger, like a lightning bolt.
"Student council passed a rule against smoking in public places." She informed, as if she was saving the day or some shit.
"Secondhand smoke kills." Her friend in the preppy neon shorts chimed in.
"I'm new, I didn't know." I explained. So this is a shit school with crappy rules I guess. I stick to the plan, I won't talk to these whores anymore and get the fuck out of their business. I dropped the cig and smushed it under my converse shoes.
"What the hell is wrong with you? People sit here! They eat here!" The queen screamed as she picked up the cigarette from the dirty ground. What was this skank's deal? Why was she so fucking uptight? What the hell was her problem with me?
"You don't know me. Why are you doing this?" I questioned sternly.
"Leah's grandmother died of lung cancer. She takes this stuff pretty seriously." Her friend explained. So the bitch has a name!
"Eat it- eat it or I'm gonna kick the shit out of you." Leah threatened with confidence, holding the still lit cigarette in her bony manicured hand.
"No." I replied, prepared to attack. Was this girl mentally ill or something? Was she actually serious, that she would kick the shit out of me? I'd like to see her fucking try.
"Come on Leah, that's enough." Her friend beckoned.
"No, no, no, I want to see her eat it." Leah insisted with determination. She then grabbed the back of my neck and pulled herself toward me with force, attempting to stuff the cig into my mouth. I did my best to pull her fucking arm back.
"No!" I screamed.
"Eat it, Eat it!" She ordered.
"Leah, seriously, she's like 12!" Her friend hollered. Leah still continued to try to harass my tongue with the burning cigarette. Seriously, I've had enough of her shit. I conjured up my saliva and spit right on her fucking face. She then screeched a scream so pathetic I actually wanted laugh on the spot.
"You are dead! You are dead!" She yelled, her voice heavy with disgust as I ran away from the scene laughing my little ass off.
~Back at the house~
I didn't bother doing my geography homework, grades were worthless anyways. Kurt Cobain's voice rung through my room and I let myself slip to my own world, escaping all the demons, like Leah. I lay on my bed, staring at my rugged ceiling for a while until I heard a scream. Shit, I thought and ran to see where the sound's location was. In the halls, I found a ladder leading up to some sort of attic and climbed up with caution. Both of my parents were there, staring at some sort of sex toy suit.
"What happened?" I asked with worry, catching my breath.
"Holy shit" I said. The suit was rubbery and sleek. I guess the gay couple who lived here last did a lot of fondling. Hot.
"Let's get rid of it. Come on, let's go downstairs." Mom insisted calmly. We both stepped down the stairs.
"It smells like shit." I said. The smell was strong and smoky, unlike cigarette smoke, but more like smoke that comes from the burning of ashes.
"It's sage. It was a gift from our creepy southern neighbor, Constance. Apparently it cleanses the bad memories in the house or whatever." Mom explained.
"I don't believe in those ghost stories." I scoffed. Mom smirked and led me to the kitchen where Moira was dusting the cabinets.
"So kiddo, whatcha wanna eat tonight?" My mom asked, clapping her hands together.
"Not hungry." I answered rapidly.
"Violet, honey I don't want you to be fat but I don't want you to starve either. Are you okay?" Mom questioned with concern. I don't deserve Mom caring about me like this. She cares so much, I'm afraid one day she's just going to care, and care, until eventually, she's going to fucking break.
"I'm ok, just, not in the mood." I replied and dashed upstairs to my room before she could ask any more questions.
~The next day~
I've had enough. I've had enough of school, people, life! Everything. I can't take the pain anymore, the harassment. I just want to fucking hurdle into extinction and never come back. It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad. To breathe, to swallow, to blink, to live. Why can't I just click my heels three times and leave. I'm going to explode, I'm dying on the inside. I want to sob and end it all so bad, I can't breathe. The voices. The voices in my head are conjuring up a storm. It stings just to know I'm still alive. I want to give up, I need give up. All these thoughts in my mind and yet not even a single tear generates from my eyes. I'm emotionless, as always. Instead of crying, I need to let out my emotions in times of distress. I need to let it out. I stormed into the house and ran up to my room. Ben was in his office with a patient. I only caught a glimpse of the patient. He was blonde and had a green and black striped shirt on, but who the hell did I care what he looked like? Actually, who did I care if he was there or not? I tugged on my hair and paced around my room until I snatched the small cylinder box under my bed. I took it to the bathroom and opened the box. It had razors and small knives I collected over the years with some bandages and concealer. I took a razor and huffed a deep breath. Some people may see cutting as a cowardly act, but it takes a lot of courage. Courage to make the first slice. Of course, this wasn't my first time, my wrists were stained with several scars. I finally put the razor to my wrist and cut. I didn't care anymore, I just cut. It stung for a while, but then I became detached from the realities of feelings. I was too asleep in my little dreamland of sadness. Too asleep to feel. Little beads of blood expanded around the cuts as I continued to slowly trail it horizontally across, still, my face had no emotion. No tears, or screams, or cries, nothing. The blood splattered onto the sink, little drops that were silent as they hailed onto the glazy white surface, yet louder that anything you could possibly imagine.
"You're doing it wrong. If you're trying to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up." An unknown voice said. I looked up at the intruder, his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was tall, and had messy blonde hair, and chocolate brown eyes that seemed like if you stared at them long enough, you would get lost inside of them, forever. He was attractive, that's for damn sure, although I was never one to actually be attracted to anything. Boys were never an issue for me. I never thought about them or swooned over them. He was Ben's patient, but why didn't he leave already, and why was he here? I turned over to him.
"How'd you get in here?" I asked strictly, feeling that my privacy was quite fucking violated by this asshole.
"If you're trying to kill yourself, you might also try locking the door." The intruder suggested with a smirk on his face as he shut the creaky bathroom door. What the hell just happened?
~The next day~
School is a hellhole. It literally serves no purpose. If my parents weren't always nibbling on my fucking head, I would have dropped out a long time ago. In Literature I kept my head down. Thank Christ I sat at the back of the class so the teacher wouldn't catch me sleeping. While Mr. Aarons was babbling on about shit, the door opened and the whole class stared, except me, whatever was so interesting to the others wasn't worth my time. I squinted the tiniest bit at the front of the class to see what everyone was fucking about. A male teacher in a wheelchair whispered something into Mr. Aaron's ear and then left. I heard some bastard say to his friend,
"They're talking about building a memorial for the Westfield High Massacre." Whatever this was, I didn't want to get into it. The rest of school was boring as always, except Leah keeps fucking glaring at me. Like the bitch is going to even do anything. She doesn't have the balls. Today I wore my navy floral dress that flowed down to my feet, with black worn out converse and a magenta long sleeve shirt inside. I decided to smoke at lunch, again, this time against a brick wall behind the school where no one could find me. Apparently a teacher smelled it and we had a No Smoking assembly. We had to fucking make "Tobacco kills" posters in wellness. What is this? 3rd grade? When I came home, I threw my bag in the corner of the door and decided to relax in my room. I passed Ben's office and there he was. The intruder. If I could, I would run up to him and jab out his eye socket that split second for discovering my secret and then being all cocky and eager about it. Who the fuck did he think he was? But I didn't go and beat him up, I just watched Ben and the intruder talk.
"You think that's me? You think I can't get any better?" The intruder asked, looking up at Ben weakly.
"You? You kidding me? You're hopeless." Ben scoffed. He then chuckled with a toothy grin. The intruder laughed along, almost psychopathically.
"Everybody can get better Tate. Everybody." Ben explained with encouragement. Tate. So he has a name. Tate's smile vanished.
"I just think you're scared. Of what, I'm not sure yet. Maybe..rejection. Certainly because of what your father did to you" Ben continued. This was a great performance Ben, really, I applaud. Tate looked at the ground, almost sad.
"I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work." Tate finally explained, changing the subject. He smiled, his dimples sloped and bright.
"What?" Ben exclaimed with fascination as he too, grinned. Tate laughed silently, his face almost red, nodding.
"Yeah, that's why I didn't take the meds. I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work. Because I met someone." Tate replied, now serious and innocent. His eyes suddenly stared at mine, and I felt as if I was about to have a fucking heart attack right on the spot. A shiver ran through my spine as I ran upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me, heart pounding. He met someone. Was that person me? I asked myself this question as I cradled my body on my bed. What the fuck should I care if that person was me or not? Tate's probably one of those stoners who eats shit out of girls' asses for dinner every night. My door opened and Tate was standing there, his hand still on the metal door handle.
"Why are you always breaking in?" I scowled. Tate looked hurt. He stepped inside and looked around my bed room as if he had been born here or some shit.
"Listen, what you saw the other day.." I said.
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me" Tate interrupted. He sat across of me on the floor.
"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked with suspicion. He moved closer towards me and pulled up one of his sleeves, displaying his wrist.
"This one I did after my dad left. I was ten, I think." He told, pointing to the scar. I nodded as he showed me, and studied him. I could see the resemblance to Kurt Cobain in him, the clothes and all. He had a sense of Seattle grunge style in him. I decided to trust Tate, to connect with another human being for once, and test the waters. After all, there was something about him. Something different, unique. He wasn't like the other kids at my school, he didn't have that plastic faux attitude. I pulled down my sleeve and showed my scars.
"Last week, first day at my new school, sucks." I stated.
"Westfield, right? The worst." Tate replied. Finally, someone saw that prison in my point of view.
"I got thrown out of there." He admitted. Lucky son of a bitch. I wish I could get thrown out. I smirked at him and shook my head.
"I hate it here. I hate everyone. All their bourgeois designer bullshit. East Coast was much cooler. I mean, at least we had weather." I complained.
"I love it when the leaves change." Tate said. His face was really genuine when he said this, it made my heart melt a little. Melt? What the actual fuck am I talking about? I guess Tate was significantly cool if you could say that. He wasn't a stoner, he was like me.
"Yeah me too." I agreed with a smile. A real fucking smile, teeth and everything. Tate got up from his sitting position and started looking around the room.
"Why'd you move here?" He asked.
"My dad had an affair. My mom literally caught him in the act." I answered casually. Tate spun around and looked into my eyes.
"That's horrible. If you love someone, you should never hurt them…never." He sympathized. There was something about what he said, that made me all jittery. Talking with him made me feel like I was as high as a kite.
"Right? I know." I agreed. Tate picked up a piece of chalk and started to write on my chalkboard.
"And the worst part is that six months earlier, my mom had like this brutal miscarriage. The baby was seven months old, and we had his macabre funeral. Have you ever seen a baby coffin?" I continued. He had written the word TAINT in big letters. Special Death by Mirah played on my iPod in the background. Without taking his eyes off of me, Tate sat down across from me once more and held my hand, he traced his thumb over my scars slowly. His face had a shitload of emotion, It almost looked like he was about to cry.
"I'm sorry." He apologized. I just stared at him, probably looking creepy as fuck, looking into his eyes. This was too awkward; I decided to change the subject. I arose, and slowly paced around the room.
"Why are you seeing my dad?" I asked him. I know, I called Ben "dad", the least I wanted was for Tate to know I have daddy issues.
"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. You're smarter than that." Tate replied; the look on his face was like a dog growling at a cat. I stopped the song and smirked at him. Maybe he liked cool music too.
"Wanna listen to Morrissey? He's cool and he's pissy, and he hates everyone and everything." I suggested, a smile resting on my face once more. Tate looked eager and elated.
"Got any Kurt Cobain on that thing?" He questioned. This boy was perfect. For one thing, his music style was really attractive, that's for sure. I grinned wide and my eyes sparkled. I couldn't help it, I finally found someone who wasn't a dimwitted rat in this shit show.
"What are you doing in here?" Ben rudely interrupted.
"Just listening to music, Dad." I replied, knowing this was going to end bad.
"You need to leave Tate, I'm sorry. You shouldn't be here, and I think you know that- please." Ben cruelly escorted Tate out. Tate got up as I was sitting on the bed. I wanted to stop him from leaving but Mr. All American Dad here was busy doing what he called "saving his daughter".
"What's that thing you think I'm afraid of? Fear of rejection?" Tate asked sullenly, right in Ben's face. I boiled with anger as Tate exited. How could Ben be such a fucking idiot? Can't he just open up his eyes for once and see what's in front of him instead of following his shitty psychologist instincts?
"Stay away from him." Ben spat.
"Dad, nothing-"
"You heard me!"Ben yelled. He was such a fucking fake, he disgusted me. Where the hell was my dad? The one who would never cheat on his wife, the one who knew what I was going through?
~The next day~
I got ready to go to hell (school), I was wearing a navy blue flannel underneath a black and white dress. (The outfit she wore when she burned Leah) I finished off the look with my usual pork pie hat. I couldn't stop thinking about Tate, how Ben just kicked his ass out. It was injustice. I went downstairs to go to school when I came across the fucking old maid humping Ben. Holy shit, I didn't know Ben had a thing for older woman, good for him, getting it on. I then realized how my mom didn't deserve this shit. She didn't deserve Ben one bit. She tries so, so very hard while he's getting hard. Screw him, he can go suck my ass. He's not my father and he never will be. I departed with a scoff. He noticed me leave and yelled my name.
"Violet! Violet! Damn it!" He yelped. Unbelievable.
~At school~
As usual, school was full of bullshit. Why do I even bother going? I wonder why Tate got kicked out; he would've been my purpose for going. World Geography was hell. Today was one of the rare days I wasn't ditching it. I had an exam coming up for it and I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. Finally it was lunch time. I prepared to go to my little smoking spot when a familiar narcissistic bitch approached me with the rest of her hive behind her back. They were standing in equal formation, hands on their hips. It was so cliché it hurt.
"What do you want now?" I asked Leah, impatient and moody.
"You are dead." She declared, emphasizing on the word "dead".
It was like a cannon fire; her pale manicured hands slapped me hard against the face, my pork pie hat sent flying into the air. I tried to fight back but her swarm of bees yelled a battle cry and slammed me face-first against a wall, my feet not-touching the ground. I could feel my forehead throbbing, and blood dripping down from it. The assistants pulled me back from my attempt at attacking the queen bee.
"I'm not scared of you!" I screamed as everyone in the whole fucking cafeteria rose to their feet and circled around us cheering or some shit.
"You should be!" Leah yelled back confidently, spitting right in my face with her pathetic articulated words. They all made a sharp turn to the side, plunging me to a table, my face in a tray of food. I turned around and began punching Leah as she punched me back, biting on her lip. Three was stronger than one; and all of the bitches wrestled me to the ground. Everyone around us chanted,
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" I wasn't here to give them a fucking performance. This ends now. We kept wrestling, and Leah growled in a high pitched manner as I punched her right in the gut. I finally punched all of them off of me, except Leah who kept trying to fucking strangle me. I could see it. A lit cigarette rested on the ground, a few inches away from my arm's length. This was my chance. With all the shit vested in me, and all the energy I had left, I grabbed the cig and burned Lea on the back of her hand. She squealed and held the injury, shaking with anger.
"OW! She friggin' burned me!" Leah yelled with pain. Then I got the hell out of there, grabbing my pork pie hat. I decided to ditch the rest of the day, for if any teachers see the bloody injury on the side of my forehead, there's no doubt in my mind they'll question me on how I got it. As I walked home, I asked myself how I'll hide it from my parents. The warm blood slowly dripped down, and I wiped it, not completely cleaning it all up. I prayed that neither of my parents would be in the kitchen the time I arrive, so I could easily make my escape to my room without being noticed. I opened the door to find my mom feeding Hallie. Shit. I tried to use my pork pie hat to cover it, and casually walked inside, but it was too late. Busted.
"Hey." she greeted. I gave a nod and was about to make my way when-
"Whoa. Come here." Mom ordered, obviously noticing. I was stopped in my tracks.
"What happened to your face?" She questioned with worry.
"Fell down." I lied. She sighed, already used to this shit. I obeyed her and sat down.
"Boy or girl?" She asked.
"Girls. Three of them."I replied like this was an everyday situation.
"Hope they look worse than you do." Mom joked as she was fetching a washcloth. I smirked.
"Do you know their names?" She questioned.
"I'm not narking." I replied, fed up with all the past situations that had to include the dean, counselor, all that unnecessary shit.
"You know, we can easily move you to a different school. There are a lot of really good private schools right in this neighborhood." Mom suggested. How about not going to school at all?
"I'm not running away, I'm not scared of them." I implied. I wasn't going to be a coward. I wasn't going to leave my demons alone, I was going to show them who's boss. Maybe that's what mom's doing. Maybe she's not going to hide from Ben, but she's going to take the wheel. That's why she's not leaving him.
"Not afraid of anything. It's like that time in kindergarten, when you insisted that I bring you home from the slumber party 'cause all the other girls were sleeping with the night light on" Mom said as she took a blast in to past. I smiled. My parents are always saying that I'm not fucking afraid of anything. Classic.
"I know you've gotten the short end of the stick, lately. This move, and.. your dad and I haven't exactly been great to be around." Mom admitted.
"Why don't you guys get divorced if you're so miserable?" I complained with curiosity.
"We still love each other." She genuinely said as she cleaned my wound.
"You could've fooled me. I thought you hated each other. Well, at least you hated him. I don't blame you. He was a shithead." I admitted. How could she still love that scumbag? Mom stopped cleaning my forehead and looked at me, eyebrows raised.
"Sorry." I apologized. She grinned with a sigh.
"It's okay. He was a shithead." Mom agreed. I smirked.
"You know we got a lot of history. Your dad's been through a lot, I've been through a lot, Guess we need each other." She continued and started to clean my wound again. I was her Violet, her brave, tough Violet. Why did she take so much pride in this? Is it because I had to protect her or some shit? Why couldn't she stand up to Ben?
"What are you scared of? You said I'm not scared of anything, so what scares you?" I questioned.
"Lately? Everything. "She answered. I looked into her eyes, and saw loneliness. I wonder what it would be like to be her, to have the person you love the most hurt you. To never be able to trust a single soul again. Then, she gave me a small smile and bobbed her head to the side.
"Life will do that to you." Mom advised. I took those words into consideration. I wasn't afraid of Leah, I wasn't afraid of what she would threaten to do to me. It was oppression. I didn't feel fear, I felt hate. I hated her. I hated what she threatened to do to me. I wanted revenge. Tate must be at a therapy session with Ben, I could still catch up to him. I needed to vent, to plan. As Tate opened the front door to leave, I bolted out the kitchen door to find him standing outside, his hands in his pockets.
"Hey." I greeted.
"Oh, uh, hey Violet." He said.
"Wanna come inside? We never really got to finish our conversation…" I asked. He smiled like the Cheshire cat. His dimples were so fucking adorable.
"Yeah, uh, I'd like that a lot." He grinned. He started walking to the back door in the kitchen.
"School has been shit. I wish you were there." I said. He looked ecstatic. His eyes were bright and he smirked.
"You know, for once, I wish I was there too." He agreed. I sheepishly grinned and looked down at the ground, overwhelmed with so much on my fucking mind; Leah, Mom, Ben, Tate, everything.
"Is everything okay?" Tate questioned, noticing my silence. I looked at him and his concerned face.
"Yeah it-it's fine." I replied. I lied. We stepped into my room and Tate locked the door. He went over to me, his face inches apart from mine, and took off my pork pie hat.
"Hey, give me my hat back you asshole." I teased. He chuckled with a dopey grin, but it soon faded into a serious and confused frown.
"Who did that to you?" Tate aggressively questioned, pointing at the injury on my forehead that Leah gave me.
"Some bitch started a fight with me at school." I ranted.
"What's this slut's name?" Tate asked, intrigued. He sat down on an old brown leather chair, both of his arms resting on the arms of the chair.
"Leah." I scoffed. Just the sound of her name made me want to vomit.
"I hate her! I just want to kill her!" I stormed around my room.
"Then do it! One less high school bitch making the lives of the less fortunate more tolerable is, in my opinion, a public service." Tate suggested. Of course really killing her was not an option.
"Look, you want her to leave you alone? Stop making your life a living hell? Short of killing her, there's only one solution. Scare her. Make her afraid of you. It's the only thing bullies react to." He advised. I stopped pacing around the room. I was curious, and listening.
"How?" I asked.
"It's simple. You simply walk up to her and say- Here's the deal: I need you to stop harassing me. I got what you want. Drugs. Come over to my house tomorrow for your free sample. I'm a dealer, and a good one. I got the best shit in town." He explained, his voice all theoretical and tense. This plan was good, real good. Only problem is, I'm not a fucking dealer.
"She's a cokehead. I don't have coke." I exclaimed.
"You won't need any. It's just an excuse to get her here. After that she'll leave empty-handed and terrified. And I promise you, you'll never be bothered by her again." Tate said. His brain wasn't full of jackshit like everyone else. He was goddamn smart, and he knew it himself. This plan could be the epiphany of all my problems. But what would she be so afraid of? A broken nail? A purse that's not on sale?
"How am I going to terrify her?" I asked.
"That's where I come in." Tate chimed in, determined and confident.
~The next day~
I got ready for school dressed in a lanky blue dress with white buttons trailing down the center, and a knitted lavender sweater over it. I completed the look with a raccoon fur hat. Mom had given me a thin white pad of cotton and injury gauze to hide the mark Leah gave me. I set out for school, reviewing the plan in my mind over and over again. Lure the prey, scare the prey, and defeat the prey. It was simple, difficult, and quick. Before the first bell rung, I stomped up to Leah and explained the situation, hoping she'd buy the fact that I was an actual dealer. With a smirk and a slow nod of her head, I had successfully tricked her. When I got home, I took off my furry hat and my bandage. I wanted her to see what she had done to me, and I wanted to do my best to scare her. As I was pacing around in my room, I heard a knock on the door.
"Dad, I'm not in the mood right now." I said. If Ben or Mom fucks this up by thinking Leah is my new friend or whatever, I'm in deep shit. But instead of Ben, it was Tate standing at the door, smiling. I smiled back and ran up to him.
"Tate? What are you doing here right now? You're supposed to come after she arrives." I questioned.
"I wanted to check on you, if you were ready or not, I've been rehearsing in the basement with Thad- I've been rehearsing." Tate explained. Who the hell is Thad? I eyed him suspiciously.
"Well, she's coming soon so, just um-uh just-just be prepared." I ordered. He nodded, his grin wide and his dimples sharp. I sheepishly smiled back. Then, I turned around, and grabbed my cell phone, but when I turned back, Tate was gone. *Ding dong* the doorbell rang. She was here. Mom was out, shopping for groceries, and Ben was in his office. I scampered downstairs, and yelled,
"I'll get it!" as I passed Ben's office. I finally opened the mass mansion doors. There she was, Leah, standing there with her arms crossed.
"Hi Harmon." She groaned.
"What's up slut?" I greeted in a sarcastic tone. She rolled her eyes.
"Let's just get this over with." She bitched. I nodded and escorted her in.
"let's go downstairs." I ordered, and she followed me down the creaky steps as I turned on the lights.
"What's down there?" she questioned.
"My stash. Parents toss my room every week." I replied.
"If you're screwing with me-" Leah said.
"It's just the basement. I found the best hiding place. This is great shit too. All the coke coming to the U.S. from Central America smuggled in on lobster boats in Gloucester. I used to show my boobs to the lobstermen in return for a key or two before they cut it." I improvised, smirking at her foolishness.
"So where is it?" Leah asked anticipated.
"Right around the corner." I answered. Leah took a deep breath and walked around the corner, sniffling for the smell of coke probably.
"To the right." I corrected before she headed towards the left. This had to be perfect.
"This place is a dump." Leah complained.
"Oh, shut up." I said.
"I want my goddamn drugs." She whined.
"Then keep going." I ordered. Leah obeyed. Finally, she arrived to the room Tate was in. I smiled as I saw his creepy glare.
"So this is the coke whore." Tate declared in a excited tone.
"Who the hell are you?" Leah groaned in a bored manner. I smirked at the sight of her falling into our little trap. Time for revenge.
"Get the lights." Tate ordered. I never saw his performance, I wondered what he had planned. The light slammed off. An electrical buzz rang through my ears as bright strobe lights flashed on and off. Tate generated a high-pitched, crazed maniacal laughter as he aggressively rocked back and forth in his chair. What the hell was this creepy shit? He continued laughing as Leah looked around rapidly like a tiny prairie dog.
"What is going on? What is going on?" She screamed, terrified. This was some scary ass shit, I could say that, but I felt a bizarre presence occur. Something was wrong. I stared back at Tate again, who looked like he was having a seizure in his chair. A light flicker later, I saw a devilish creature that almost looked human in his place, hissing. *Flicker* there was Tate again, *flicker* the creature had black, soulless eyes, and shark teeth, glazed with blood. Its skin was a wrinkly white, and its bony hands attached to rusty long and sharp nails that had splatters of blood on it. It hissed once more. *flicker* Tate was muttering something as fast as lightning can strike, almost like he was possessed under some curse.
"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!" He muttered, bouncing in his chair. His head was wrangling in opposite directions, Sticking out and wiping the air, as if he was in an electric chair. Then, he pounced, and a flicker later, he was on Leah's back, pushing her onto the ground. She yelped in horror. He was straddled on her, and used both hands to push her back until she was flat on the concrete. Leah screamed once more, trying to break loose of Tate's grip. He started laughing again, and shook her like a rag doll.
"Get off of me! Get off of me!" Leah yelled. Then, she screamed once more as the creature replaced Tate, it shook Leah, the creature's bloody drool touching her back. Leah screamed and screeched, wailing with pain. I didn't notice, but I was cringing, almost crying too. Tate wasn't like me, he wasn't cool, I thought he understood, but no, he was evil, he was a monster.
"Stop!"I yelled as the creature kept harassing Leah. Then, Tate, or the monster, I didn't know which one, pushed me to the ground. I landed on my hands, and quickly backed up and scooted back into the corner of the room, wailing for the nightmare to end. I hugged my knees. I was shaking with fear. This was worst than my terrible visions and dreams. It was anarchy. Tate, or the monster, flipped Leah onto her back. I kept begging for it all to stop. Then, the monster headed towards me, its mouth dripping with blood. I screamed a horrible scream that could probably damage one's vocal cords. I could see the monster's teeth, like a tiny alligator, stained with red. The monster's hand slowly reached eye level with me, and I backed up to the wall as much as I possibly could, screaming my lungs out. The monster's sharp curvy weapons known as its nails were inches away from my face. I yelped. With a flicker or two, the monster disappeared, and was on Leah again, Using its nails to scratch her cheek, leaving deep and gory, gigantic cuts on her face.
"Mommy?" She gasped and screamed throughout the room, fear echoing and bouncing off the walls. Finally, I had dragged myself over to the light switch and turned on the lights at last to find Leah writhing on the ground, the bloody wound shining. She continued screaming as she got up and fled the house. I was so fucking confused. What the fuck just happened? Tate was smirking, the same creepy glare in his eye as he slowly rocked back and forth in his chair. I followed Leah out to the stairs.
"Will you wait?!" I screamed, trying to catch my breath as she escaped. I heard Tate's footsteps running up to me.
"I don't think she'll be bothering you anymore." Tate assured, grinning.
"What was that?" I screeched, terrified. I didn't even want to get an inch closer to that- that freak! He was dangerous, cold blooded, I wouldn't be surprised if he secretly was the devil.
"What are you talking about? She hit me in the balls and got away. She must have run into a wall or something." Tate explained, confused and innocent.
"No, I saw something!" I protested, still trembling.
"Violet, you're talking crazy. This is cool. We showed that bitch." He persuaded. Cool? Cool? How could hurting others be cool? I shook my head in disgust. Tate was worse that Leah. And who was that monster? Was that Tate in a costume or some shit?
"Get out! I never want to see you again!" I scowled at Tate. He walked up towards me, a concerned and sad look on his face, I pushed him back with as much force as I possibly could, and dashed up the stairs.
"I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T AFRAID OF ANYTHING!" I heard Tate yell as I departed from the basement. He was sadistic, a monster, I never wanted to see him again, ever. And to think I ever thought he was like me. I loathed him, how dare him. Tears danced down my face as I buried my face into my hands. That sick bastard. Who was he really? What was he?
AN: And that's the end of Chapter 2! I really like writing this fanfiction so far, even if I'm still at the first episode *_* I really appreciate feedback and critique, so please, if you can, take some time to give me that J3 I'm thinking about ending this fanfic differently than Murder House with a more decent ending, but idk. What do you guys think? I'm also thinking about adding some new people in it that weren't in Muder House since I have the freedom of saying what happens when Violet is at school? What do you guys think about too? I might have a poll for it later. Please please please leave reviews guys, each one helps! I won't post chapter 3 until I get enough! Love yew guys! 333