I Don't Hate Mondays
Oh great creators of all that is beautifully macabre about this show, I implore you to spare me and my measly fanfiction. I am not worthy of smiting. Please do not believe that I have the rights to any of this. I only beg that out of the goodness of your benevolent hearts, you will allow this minor tale to be posted upon this website.
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CHAPTER 3: Bury Me in Armor When I'm Dead and Hit the Ground
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"I took my love down to Violet Hill. There we sat in snow; all that time she was silent, still. Said, 'if you love me, won't you let me know?'"
-Coldplay, 'Violet Hill'
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"I like your jar. Very morbid." He tapped on the glass that separated his finger from a baby doll's head submerged in liquid. Tate was willing to bet it was just colored water.
Violet nodded absently, scrolling through the long list of songs that she had on her iPod. She felt as if every move she made could completely alter his opinion and attitude towards her. And after how their last encounter ended, she didn't want to take any chances. Who knew? Maybe she'd finally found a kindred soul.
"You know, the guy who built this place used to keep them in jars", he continued. He turned away from the shelf where the jar sat to face her. "He was this mad-scientist type of guy. Crazy ideas. Had the whole Frankenstein thing going."
Violet finally settled on 'Interstate Love Song' by the Stone Temple Pilots. This was bullshit. She couldn't decide whether he wanted to scare her or was just fucking with her to see how she'd react.
"Yeah right." She scoffed with those words. She'd had one too many cheesy séances with Vivien to be rattled by the possibility that her house was the next Bates Motel. Besides, living in a haunted house could be cool. Might give her something interesting to look into in her free time if it really was. Maybe she could stage recreations with her old G.I. Joe action figures and her long-lost Cabbage Patch dolls.
See? Nothing wrong with the way she thought. Not a thing wrong at all. Suck on that, Ben.
"No, I'm dead serious. He was rich in the 20s until he started huffing anesthetic to keep up with the demand and to get away from his smothering wife. Then things went downhill and next thing you know, he's cutting fetuses out of young women just to keep up with the bills."
"Woah." God, she sounded like a five year-old going to Disney for the first time. She needed to stem the flood of embarrassing moments before Tate decided she was too awkward to spend his time on. I sound like a tween pop star on TV. Get it the hell together, Vi! It's not even real! Geezus.
"I- as if. There's no way that happened here." Nice. Stutter some more, why don't you? Maybe he likes his girls with speech impediments.
Tate chuckled. "It did."
He stepped closer, his fingers seeking the wrist that was still tender from not ten minutes ago and latching on. His grip was not unlike that of a leech siphoning blood from an unsuspecting body. He was a bit like that, he figured. Draining the life and sanity from everyone he ever came into contact with.
Violet bit back a wince in an exceptional show of self-control. She knew exactly what he was doing. Poking at her open wounds and searching for a sign of weakness in the barriers she'd erected around her heart. What she didn't know was whether he would use these against her or if he was just curious enough to bother getting to know her.
"Come." His tone held a tiny note of 'please listen to me'. "Sit with me."
They both plopped down on the shag carpet she'd found on the side of the road one day and decided to bring home. He still grasped her arm as if it was a lifeline. It stung.
"He used to practice in the basement."
"Shit." Aaaand she'd reverted right back to the gullible little girl. All because the psycho in the lab coat had just so happened to chop people up in the exact same place where that gay couple had met their gruesome end. Or so the one guy she'd been able to tolerate (and actually kinda really liked) since ever said.
Violet sighed. Okay. She'd play along. But only because she had no idea what else to do. And to be honest, she wanted something new and exciting in her life. If that just so happened to be one of her dad's crazy patients (with an exceptionally beautiful smile) who was into ghost stories (and had really nice hands) and the only teenager who wasn't a total asshole, then so what? You forgot his eyes. Mm. Those eyes.
"Fine. Say that what you just told me was real. What else happened in this house?" she figured, 'hey, if a whole bunch of unborn babies and 'Elton John and David Furnish' died there, some other shit must've gone down.'
"Well, a lot of people have died violent deaths here, that's for sure", Tate said, his thumb running over her most recent cuts.
She took a deep breath. Maybe Barbie will get to play Black Dahlia after all.
"The doc's wife lost it after one of their patient's boyfriends freaked and stole their kid, Thaddeus. They got him back the next week. In five different boxes."
His fingers tightened ever so slightly. He continued.
"She shot him and then blew her own brains out after he tried to bring their bouncing baby boy back from the dead."
Tate's tone was flat and factual. Unaffected.
"Then there was a nurse and a sorority girl in the late sixties. The nurse got drowned in the bathtub and the other one got stabbed seventeen times in the back by some passerby serial killer. And then Lorraine Harvey and her two daughters burned to death in the kids' room. The husband went to jail for it."
There was a pause, and an implied 'there are more'.
But Tate remained silent.
Violet decided she needed to fill in. "So this house is probably haunted?"
It was more of a joking remark than an actual question, but Tate responded immediately. "Definitely. And I bet that they all watch you shower."
He smirked and she swatted at him playfully. "Oh please. Just because you would doesn't mean that they would."
"Hey, how do you know that I'm not a ghost too?" he shot back, his smirk growing.
Violet laughed. "Because what kind of ghost would you be if you let me see you properly? You're supposed to hide under a bedsheet with eyeholes and groan at me in the dark. You just straight-up walked over and decided to strike up a conversation with me."
"Well, how's this for an introduction for the ghostly me then?"
He cleared his throat, looking her straight in the eye.
"Hey, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna hook up?"
Violet rolled her eyes. "Come on, Casper. You'll have to do better than that."
"I liked Betelgeuse better. I don't think I'd get along too well with the rest of the ghosts. Or the people living in my house", he mumbled, shooting her a tiny smile. "But not you. You're my Lydia. I like you."
Oh god. Oh god. Oh whatever the hell is up there or whatever. Please. Don't let this be a dream.
She could feel herself blushing. Redder than a firetruck. As always. Curse this pale paleness that makes me look like a tomato every time I feel emotion!
"Just don't ever tell me to go away."
His voice was quiet. Violet felt as though he was so fragile in that moment, he would've shattered if she not agreed.
"Tate, Tate, Tate", she chanted softly true to the Beetlejuice reference, smiling at him.
The color drained from his face and his mouth hung open as if he was about to scream.
"If that can't make you leave, then there's no sense in ever asking, is there?"
The pale pink returned to his cheeks and the corners of his mouth lifted.
Tate laughed.
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"Come on, he'll see us", Tate hissed, waving for Violet to hurry up.
They both crept down the stairs, skipping the step at the bottom because it creaked loudly whenever someone used it.
To be completely honest to himself, Tate had no idea what he was doing. With Violet, the only answer to anything was to think on his feet. She was too unpredictable for any long-term schemes of his to actually work out. So any half-truthful endeavors to get her to fall for him, the sad, sick twisted excuse of the shell of what once was a human being were out. That's it, psycho. Hate yourself for everything that you wanted to do. That you know you would have done. You don't deserve her, and you know it.
That dark little voice throbbed in his head as it screamed his biggest insecurities and fears. He hated his inner conscience.
"I still don't get why we have to be so scared of my dad finding us", Violet whispered, suddenly closer than he had expected her to be. Her tiny exhales tickled his ear with warm air.
"Because I'm crazy and he knows that." Tate pulled the basement door open inch by inch, praying to a deity that he didn't believe in that the hinge would not squeak loudly as it usually did. And apparently, the god he knew didn't exist had heard his plea. "And besides, he would be scared of letting a girl like you hang around a guy like me."
Violet stopped following, ignoring when he reached out and grabbed her wrist again, attempting to pull her along.
"What do you mean by 'a girl like me'?"
She sounded like she was torn between confused and offended. Of course she's going to misinterpret your compliment, psycho. Why would she believe you when you imply that she's like nothing you've ever seen before?
He let out the breath he'd been holding ever since he'd taken a hold of her arm.
"You're different Violet. You're special", he answered, turning back to the stairs and taking the first step down. Again, she stayed in place, as if frozen.
Tate might have believed that time had stopped if not for the changing look of disappointment on her face.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She had all but forgotten his vulnerability from moments before. She had taken up the demeanor of a doctor; find the sore spot and push until it hurts.
I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.
Digging his nails into his palm, he gritted his teeth and prepared to vomit the truth for her pretty eyes to feast on.
"It means that I really like you, Violet. And I don't like many people."
The fear vanished from her features, replaced with a radiant smile that made him want to smile right along with her.
He stepped back up to stand not six inches from where she had paused. His fingers brushed at her hair, pushing the strands that hung in her face over her ear. "Don't hide. I like seeing you."
Her almost imperceptible gasp made his stomach clench.
It was then that he knew for sure. That the red tingeing her pale cheeks, the dilated pupils, her racing heart… it was all for him.
She was his, and she didn't even know it yet. Perfect.
Violet slowly shuffled closer until the toes of her converse met his.
"You're so beautiful…" he whispered.
Tate bowed his head. Violet raised hers.
The moment when their lips touched was like nothing he could have ever predicted.
It wasn't the sensation of fireworks like described in so many of the bodice rippers that he had snuck away from Constance out of pure curiosity at the young age of ten. It wasn't like a delicate trembling embrace either.
It was a fire; out of control, burning hot and a blur of beauty. It was a tangled mess of lips, teeth and tongue.
It was like her.
And it did the impossible, just like the girl who had somehow defied the odds and caught his eye for all of the right reasons. It made him feel alive.
Reluctantly, he withdrew, remembering the need for oxygen that she still retained, savoring the traces of smoke from the cigarette he knew she'd snuck and the mint gum that she'd chewed afterwards to cover up the smell.
His lips tingled.
"Now come on, I have something important to show you."
He reached out an open hand, and she took it and allowed him to lead her into the basement. Her hand was tiny and warm in his. All it would take for you to crush those delicate little fingers is twelve pounds of pressure. Think on that for a bit, psycho.
He shook his head to rid it of the darkness. But it lingered there, hidden away behind the guilt and regret that he'd buried for the past seventeen years.
Goddamnit! I just did something good for once, and already have to deal with this shit. Can't I have just one freaking minute of peace?
No. you can't.
Biting his lip, he continued downwards.
They descended into the dark and damp basement. Violet shivered.
"You said that there aren't any ghosts in this house, right? That my story couldn't possibly be true?"
His voice deepened. He turned to look at her.
"I'm going to prove you wrong."
Squatting down, Tate reached into his pocket and retrieved the red ball that he had taken from the attic in his last visit there.
"You know, not everyone who died here is angry. Not all of them are vindictive. Sure, some are, but not all. There are a few pure souls out here. The ones who deserved better but got shit."
With that, he rolled the ball into the dark corner of the room.
"What the hell are you trying to show me, Tate?"
Violet once again seemed confused. "I thought we'd established that your ghost story wasn't true."
The ball rolled back.
"Hey Thaddeus."
Tate's voice was soft and seemed to echo in the dark of the room. Violet had stopped exclaiming her disbelief.
"No. No, this isn't happening", she started, backing away. "It's not real. It's just one of your friends pretending."
His laugh was chilling. "Do I look like the kind of guy with friends?"
He got up again. "There's nothing living in this room, Violet. Nothing but you."
Her face was bone-white. Her eyes were wide open.
Smiling, his eyes dark and the shadows creeping in, he turned to face her.
"Hey, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna hook up?"
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Boom.
The bomb has dropped. Don't worry, there are plenty more. And again, don't worry, this story won't be all sunshine and butterflies. At least not for very long ;)
Shit WILL go down (when, I won't say), and feels will be hurt. And maybe a couple of people will be maimed. But hey, you guys have all watched the show. Of course it's not going to be a leisurely stroll down the yellow brick road.
Okay, so I won't apologize for the fact that this chapter took longer than the others did. I had a life to lead (hahahaaa... no, I didn't) and a brother to duel in order to receive computer time.
This week: again, a great big thank you to everyone who read and kept reading. An even bigger thank you to everyone who favorited. And the biggest thank you to vixenXfreezepop for the wonderful reviews. I hope this slightly satisfied your craving for Violate action :D
All right, that seems to be it for now.
Bye bye,
Merida