Lola waited until Tate left to go to sleep. When she woke up, he was still missing from the room. She was cautious as she slid out of the bed. He'd made it known that he could appear from thin air. What if he could be invisible too?

Her own stench was so overpowering that she decided to gamble. She tip toed into the bathroom. The porcelain bathtub was so inviting. She sat at the edge and turned the knob. The water spurted out of the faucet for a second before streaming out. She tested it to make sure it was hot before getting up. She grabbed a cream colored towel from a cabinet and draped it over the sink.

The cabinet also housed a variety of soaps and shampoos. The labels were all Italian or French- nothing she could actually read. She popped a few caps and sniffed before settling on a set of lilac scented products.

After placing the toiletries near the tub and shutting off the water, she began to strip out of her dirty clothes. They lay in a heap on the floor. She dipped a toe into the water. It was scolding. She drew back, shocked by the temperature. A second passed before she took the plunge and put her entire leg in. Then her other leg. She let out a moan as she lowered herself into the boiling water.

She was almost done lathering when she heard a noise from the other room.

Shit. Lola jumped up out of the tub. The dirty water splashed beneath her. She almost fell as she reached for the towel.

"Go away, Tate!" She screamed as she wrapped the towel around her body. She slammed the bathroom door shut.

There wasn't a lock, but Tate didn't try to open the door.

"Do you feel better?"

"Just leave so I can put some clothes on. I'm not in the mood for your games right now, okay?"

"They're not games," He hissed.

"Okay!" Lola apologized. "Okay. They're not games. Can I just please have some clothes?"

The wardrobe door opened and closed before Tate cracked open the door to the bathroom, tossing in a tiny piece of clothing. Lola looked to the ground. Of course.

It was the sexy nightwear. She picked it up to get a better look at the garment. The babydoll was light pink. The push-up brazier was trimmed with leopard print. It tied in the front. The sheer fabric on the rest of the top was split down the middle, flying away to the side. There was a matching thong attached.

"There is no way I'm wearing this!" Lola laughed.

"It's that or nothing at all," Tate said.

"This is basically like nothing at all. I'd be more covered up if I wore this towel."

"That works for me."

Lola let out an exhausted sigh. She dropped her towel and slinked into the piece of cloth. She'd never worn anything like it before, and she defiantly felt uncomfortable. She peeked at herself in the mirror, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Her wet hair drew attention straight down her frame. Her bust was enhanced by the trimmed push up piece. Her toned stomach was more revealed than it ever had been with the flyaway piece. And the thong- the thong was defiantly the most uncomfortable piece.

"What's going on in there?" Tate called out. She could hear the glee in his voice.

Lola picked up the towel and wrapped it tight over her body. She threw open the door, hoping to hit Tate in the process. But he was sitting on the bed wearing the biggest smirk she'd ever seen in her entire life.

"Drop the towel," He ordered.

"Tate-"

He pushed himself off the bed and took a big step in her direction. He didn't look happy.

Lola unwillingly let go of the towel. It fell to her feet.

Tate didn't move. His face was frozen. He didn't grin or smirk or frown. His eyes were stuck on her. They traveled up and down her body a few times before holding her gaze. Lola didn't know what to do. She tried crossing her arms over her chest, but dropped them.

Tate finally came closer. He put his hands on her abdomen. She was shocked at how cool they were. They were soft, though, and somehow warmed her. He pulled her against his body, and then tilted her head up so she was looking at his face.

His eyes were so black. There was no hint of color. They dug into her.

Tate dipped his head. His lips pressed against Lola's. She fought for a second, not wanting to kiss him back. But he was so inviting.

It only took a moment for Lola to remember who was in front of her. She was holding on to the man that killed her brother. She was kissing the man that harmed her other two brothers. She was beginning to like the man that sent her father to God knows where.

Lola pushed Tate away, sending him toppling backwards. He caught his footing and yelled,

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Get away from me!"

Tate grabbed Lola by the wrist as she tried to escape into the bathroom. With her free hand, she slapped Tate. His face showed his shock, but he didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his grip. He roughly whipped Lola back towards him, then onto the bed. She bounced, scrambling to get away. Before she could even sit up, Tate flew on top of her. He pinned her down.

Lola struggled. She thrashed, her words were like venom,

"Get off me! You're fucking crazy!"

"Don't talk to me like that," Tate hissed.

He tried to silence her by kissing her, but her muffled screams still got to him. Next, he tried just ignoring her. He kissed her neck, suckling on her sweet skin. But her head shook from side to side, making it impossible for him to concentrate. His hand cupped her breasts. That was the final straw for Lola.

"What are you doing?" She screamed. "You're going to rape me? Get off!"

Tate sped off, backing up into the wall. Lola, propped up on her elbows, was flabbergasted. Tears streamed down her face as she babbled,

"What do you think you're doing?"

"NO!" Tate snapped loudly. "What do you think you're doing! What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm in charge here!"

"You said you loved me," Lola sobbed. "You don't do this to people you love, Tate."

Tate was confused and angered by her words. He flipped a switchblade out of his pocket and charged at Lola. She backed up against the headboard.

"Don't do this!" She cried. "Tate, I'm-"

Tate exposed one of his wrists and held the blade to it. He slashed his arm quickly a few times. As red pooled on top of his skin, he said shakily,

"You're right. You don't hurt the people you love. I should be punished."

"I didn't say that, Tate!" Lola yelled.

She wanted him to suffer. She did. He was the bane of her existence. But as much as she hated him, a part of her didn't want him to be in pain. A part of her liked the way he looked at her. A part of her just liked him.

"No!" Tate belted. He slashed his wrist again. Deeper this time. The color was draining from his body. "I'm a shitty person!"

Lola didn't know what else to say. Some form of an apology was on the tip of her tongue when Tate disappeared. The bloody blade dropped to the floor with a heavy klink.

Shakily, Lola climbed out of the bed. She stood where Tate just had, seconds before. The blood on the ground had pooled and crept slowly towards her toes. She took a few steps backwards, but it didn't matter. The blood disappeared, just as Tate had.

What had just happened?

She wasn't sure. Lola crept to the wardrobe as she processed the events. She couldn't possible feel anything towards Tate other than hatred. She would be just as cold hearted as he if she did.

Lola looked through the clothing in the wardrobe. All of the items were still tagged with ridiculous prices and designer names. Alexander Wang. Marc Jacobs. Yves Saint Laurent. Zoe Karssen. Carven. Burberry. Chloe. Some of the garments ranged into the thousand dollar range.

Not wanting to be in the lingerie anymore, Lola just grabbed a basic dark gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She changed quickly, in case Tate came back.

But he didn't.

There wasn't a clock in the room, but Lola knew hours had passed.

She was so wrapped up in her own mind she almost didn't even realize how much time had passed. She was fighting with herself. She made a pro and con list for Tate, however ridiculous that sounded. The pro side included things like loves you?, dedicated, handsome. The con side was a lot longer- dead, ghost, evil, murder, psychotic, killed Josh, maybe killed Aaron and RJ, maybe killed Dad, EVIL, EVIL, EVIL, EVIL, EVIL.

Lola could write evil a thousand times, but it would never change the way she was beginning to feel.