1986

It was late but Tate could still hear the television. He was supposed to be sleeping but they had a one-story home now and the noise was keeping the 9-year-old awake. He got out of bed and left his room, carrying his Darth Vader action figure with him for company. He heard his mother laugh and then he heard the voice of the man she'd brought home. The visitor made a joke and Constance laughed again. It was a fake laugh, Tate knew. She only laughed like that when she was with a man she wanted to kiss.

He passed Addie's door. He could hear her talking to her imaginary friends. He went to the living room and stood in the doorway. The couch was positioned with its back to the door. He could see the grown-ups sitting on it but they couldn't see him. An old movie lit up the television. Constance sat right next to her man friend in the center of the sofa. His arm was around her shoulders. The stranger hugged her closer and said something real quiet in her ear. She made that phony laugh again.

"Mama," Tate said. "I'm thirsty."

Both of the adults looked around at him. The man smiled at him. Tate didn't smile back. Constance looked irritated. It was the fifth time Tate had come out to interrupt her 'business meeting'. She didn't want to interrupt it longer to punish the boy; that might ruin the night altogether.

"All right, sweetheart," she said, forcing a smile. "Wait there."

She got up but she paused to brush her fingers on the man's cheek. "I'll only be a minute."

Tate hated the man. Constance went into the kitchen. The man looked at Tate. He was trying to think of something to say but he wasn't good with children, especially other people's kids. So he just looked back to the television. Tate lifted his Darth Vader and pretended to cut the man's head off with the tiny red light saber.

Constance returned from the kitchen with a toddler cup full of red Kool-aid. Tate was too old for a toddler cup but it was the only type of cup she would let him take to bed so he accepted it. He took a drink. It was cold and sweet and made him feel a little better. Mama still loved him best.

"Go on, now," she said, brushing his hair back behind an ear. "Take it to mama's room and put on the TV. Hurry up."

Tate beamed. He didn't get to watch TV in her bedroom often. She gave him a kiss then pushed him out of the room.

Two hours later Constance and her date stumbled into the bedroom, arms wrapped around each other as they kissed. It was only then that they remembered Tate. The boy was fast asleep on the foot of the bed in front of the television. One arm dangled off the end of the bed. His sippy cup was on the floor.

"Should we move him?" the man asked.

Constance smiled up at her gentleman. "Oh, don't worry about him," she assured as she pulled him toward the bed. "I put some Valium in his juice. He'd sleep through an earthquake."

Soon they were making love. Tate slept through it. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last.

...

Tate woke long before Constance did. The man was gone. The grown-ups had been drinking the night before and his mother was determined to sleep it off. Tate wanted breakfast. Addie and Beau were hungry too but his mother had forbidden him to do anything in the kitchen without supervision, ever since he'd accidentally set the stove on fire. She wouldn't even let him make a bowl of cereal.

The longer she slept, the madder he got. When it was nearly lunchtime he decided to wake her up. He went to his room and got his noisiest digger toy and carried it into her room. He sat down right next to the bed as close to her head as he could get. Then he sounded the air horn and rammed the truck into the bed frame. He kept pushing the button, again and again. Honk, honk, honk.

He started to enjoy what he was doing and forgot why he was doing it. So it was a surprise to him when Constance sat up and snatched the digger away. Then she grabbed his arm. Her nails bit into his skin, making him pout.

"What's the matter with you?" she growled. "I am tryin' to sleep!"

Tate tried to shrink back from her anger but she pulled him closer. "I'm hungry," he said in a small voice.

"It's not time to eat!" Constance swung her legs out of bed and stood, hauling the boy up to his feet with her. He was in big trouble and he knew it. She pulled him toward the closet. He tried to tug away from her but she squeezed his arm tighter. He started to cry. She dropped the truck and yanked the closet door open.

"No, mama, no!" Tate whimpered. He grabbed her nightgown.

"Why do you do this?" she shrieked over him. "Why do you make me be mean to you? I want to be a sweet mama but you just won't let me!"

She pried his hand off her nightie and used his arm to sling him into the closet. He tripped over the shoes on the floor and fell into the dresses that hung above. They kept him from hitting his head on the wall like last time but he still went into immediate hysterics. He hadn't seen any monsters since they'd moved out of the old Victorian house but he knew bad things hid in dark places. He tried to scramble out of the closet but she slammed the door in his face.

He grabbed the handle but she'd already locked it. He beat on the door. "Mama, let me out!" he sobbed. "I'll be good! I'll be good!"

"Shut up!" Constance screamed through the door. She slapped the wood hard enough to sting her palm. "Shut up or I'll get the belt!"

She used the threat more often than she used the tool. She'd only hit him with it once and that was when she'd caught him and Addie facing each other down, armed with scissors. She'd beaten them both for that fight. But the threat worked like a charm. Tate quieted; she could barely hear him sniffling.

She let herself relax, only then noticing how wound up he'd made her get. She swiped tears from her cheeks then she looked at the truck grumpily. She picked it up and carried it over to her trashcan and dropped it in. Then she went back to bed.

...

2018 - 4 months before the earthquake

Tate sat on the black leather couch in Ben's office. He had his arms spread out, propped on the back. His feet were on the floor, knees parted wide. Everything about his body language said he was wide open. But it was a lie. He hadn't said a word to the doctor since he sat down.

Dr. Harmon regarded the teenager calmly, notepad and pencil in hand. They'd been sitting there for five minutes in silence and he thought it was about time to change that. "That's an interesting shirt."

The shirt in question was a pale green tee worn over a long-sleeved thermal shirt. The t-shirt had blocky faded white letters that read: Stare at me in disgust if you want to blow me.

Tate tipped his head but his expression didn't change. "I was going to wear the one that says 'Fuck off' but I knew we had a session today. I thought you might think I was trying to tell you something."

Ben knew Chad had followed his directions in regards to the step-down plan. The therapist had been seeing Tate weekly to track his progress and help guide him through the aftermath of quitting the sleep medication. There had been some difficult sessions and even a couple of unscheduled ones to handle the wild behavior Tate had exhibited over the past month. Ben had tried to several times to change Chad's mind about the medication but he was inflexible.

This was the first week the teen was off pain-killers. In a normal person Dr. Harmon would expect irritability, sullenness, depression. But Tate was anything but normal. The demeanor he presented was difficult for the doctor to interpret.

"So you wore a shirt that will make people want to look away from you?"

Tate dimpled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No. I was hoping maybe somebody would suck my dick."

Ben felt like he was playing chess only he couldn't see the layout of the board. He didn't like that. He thought about digging deeper into the mindset behind the shirt but he could sense he'd only get a bullshit answer at the moment. So he went on moving pawns. "Are you thinking about sex a lot lately?"

"I think about it all the time, doc," Tate said. "I'm thinking about it right now." He twisted a lock of his dirty blond hair around his finger absently. "I was a virgin when I died."

"How do you feel about that?" asked the therapist.

"It fucking sucks," Tate said emphatically. "You know, maybe I wouldn't think about sex so much if I got some before I died. Do you think about sex all the time, Doctor Harmon?"

Ben idly rotated his office chair side to side while he thought. "More than when I was alive. But I have sex lot less now."

That caught Tate's interest. "Do you have sex with Mrs. Harmon?"

The doctor was blindsided by the question. "I'm not comfortable discussing my wife with you, Tate."

Tate's shoulders sagged. He'd thought he was about to hear something interesting. "Oh. I understand. It's because I slept with her, huh?"

Ben stared at the teen. Tate looked back at him with dark eyes devoid of emotion.

"You didn't sleep with her," Ben said. Just saying it made him angry but he slipped tight restraints around his feelings. "You raped her."

"I looked that word up. It's only rape if you force them to do it."

Ben's poker face took a hit. "Tate. This is not a conversation I want to have with you."

Tate lowered his chin and put on his sweet face. "But I think we should. It's been... what? Six years now? Don'tcha think it's time we took that skeleton back out of the closet?"

Ben's jaw set. He wasn't going to let his patient put him in checkmate so easily. He put the notepad and pencil down. "Fine. Let's talk."

"Rape is an act of sex forced on another person," Tate said. He settled a hand on his hip. "I didn't force her to do anything. She wanted to do it. I just walked into the room and she was like... 'Hey. You look fucking hot in that rubber suit. You wanna screw?' and I was like... okay." He looked hangdog. "Sorry I didn't say no but, I mean, your wife is a babe."

Ben was too stunned and enraged to speak.

Tate took that as a signal to go on. "I didn't know I'd get her pregnant. I'm dead. What're the chances, you know?"

Ben forced himself to relax the death-grip he had on the arms of his chair. As infuriated as he was, what Tate was saying made too much sense to ignore. "You expect me to believe she wanted to have sex with you?" His voice cracked with the strain of emotion.

Tate shrugged. "It's the truth. Ask her. I never hurt her. I think I made her cum. Can girls do that? She looked like she did."

"She thought you were me!"

"It's not my fault your wife can't tell one dick from another."

Ben had the chair in a death-grip again. He really wanted to kick the teen's ass. But he wasn't going to let the urge control him.

"Seriously, Doctor Harmon," said Tate. "I'd never hurt anybody in your family."

Ben wrestled with himself inwardly. He wanted to hold onto the indignation and rage. But he couldn't ignore the logic in Tate's words. He ran a hand over his face. "Why were you even in there to begin with?"

"You went to set the house on fire," Tate shrugged again. "I was just making sure somebody was there to help your family if you did."

Ben's expression pinched. "I wasn't in control-"

Tate sat up a little. "So you're saying I should accept that you had no control over what you were doing but you're going to blame me for sleeping with your wife when she pulled me into bed?" An eerie hunger lit his dark eyes. "You've worn the suit, doc. You know what it can do."

Tremendous guilt punched through Ben. He looked away.

Tate smiled, satisfied, and sank back into the couch. He put the smile away when Ben looked back over at him.

"I really am sorry though," the teen said sincerely. "It's a total shit thing to do, sleeping with a guy's wife. But I didn't really know you then and I never had a chick say something like that to me before. Women, you know? They say all the right things to make you hot for them."

Hayden registered in Ben's thoughts and he felt even guiltier. It was what happened with him and the college student: She'd said everything right. Everything he wanted to hear. Everything he needed to hear.

Ben took a deep breath and looked over at his patient, tears in his eyes. "I forgive you, Tate."

Tate blinked. His brows scrunched and he looked pained, then confused. He hadn't expected or even hoped for that. The idea hadn't even entered his mind that Ben might actually forgive him.

"Really?" Tate blinked rapidly but tears leaked out anyway.

Ben seized the teen's moment of unexpected weakness and shored himself up with it. "Really. As much as I hate what you did, I accept your apology."

Tate hunched over and hugged his middle. "Why?"

"Because I understand." Ben looked away to the windows. "I don't want to but I do. God knows I've done worse."

Tate looked at him with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Like what?"

Ben didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was thick with emotion. "For starters, I got a nineteen year old pregnant and tried to talk her into aborting the baby. My own child." He didn't want to think about everything vile he'd done since then. Not in specifics. "I hurt the people I care about, all the time. I can't seem to help it. I don't want to but somehow... it keeps happening. The more I care, it seems, the worse I hurt them."

Tate smiled through his tears. "Well, I guess that means you don't care about me that much. You haven't fucked me over."

Ben didn't say anything but shifted uncomfortably.

"You're scaring me, Doctor Harmon." Tate said. Then he laughed. "Well, if you did do something... I know I deserve it. I totally fucked everything up. I think it's really cool that you even want to talk to me." He also figured whatever it was couldn't be that bad if he wasn't aware of it.

"Don't be too grateful," Ben said dryly. "With our track record it's only a matter of time before one of us fucks over the other one. Again."

"That reminds me," Tate said. He pointed to his shirt. "You owe me a blowjob. I distinctly saw disgust on your face at least five times when I told you all that shit."

Ben laughed, taken off guard by the comment. "I'll take it off your therapy bill."

"Technically you owe me five blowjobs," Tate noted.

"I'll treat you for free," Ben offered with a smile.

Tate sighed theatrically. "I guess I'll accept that. I know I can't afford what you charge." He smiled then, dimples showing.

"Just don't let the word get out," Ben said. "Or everyone will expect a discount."

...

Author's Note:

Mama monster Constance scares me more than any other character on the show. The title of this chapter is also the name of a freaky movie about Joan Crawford's questionable parenting skills. I've never looked at wire hangers the same since that film...

I re-watched the AHS Season 1 Pilot episode after I finished writing the therapy session, just to see how Tate's version of the rape stacked up to what the show presented. If you believe Tate, it puts that whole scene in a different light. Not saying you necessarily should believe him... Just if.

Check out my Profile for my music playlist. Next time's monsters of the moment: Ghouls, mediums and ghosts (of course).