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CHAPTER 7: It's Been the Ruin of Many a Poor Boy
-O-0-o-0-O-
"Oh mother, tell your children not to do what I have done; spend your lives in sin and misery in the House of the Rising Sun…"
-The Animals, 'House of the Rising Sun'
-O-0-o-0-O-
"Let's get you cleaned up."
Your boyfriend just killed your would-be murderer without a second thought right in front of you and that's your first reaction? God, you two deserve each other.
But want it or not, Tate did need to clean himself up. His blond hair was stained a weak red from blood, and he looked like he had been rolling in dust. He also looked like he could use a good dozen hugs or so.
His dark eyes, moments before so angry and blank of any other emotion, were filled with a sad sort of lost fear. He knew exactly what he'd done, but he knew all too well that he couldn't do anything to change it, and wouldn't have acted any differently if given a second chance.
All the while, he looked so lonely; Violet couldn't help but reach out for him from where she stood in the bath. "Come."
He shuffled forwards, his bare feet and the hem of his jeans making a quiet scuffing sound against the floor. Standing at the foot of the tub, Tate allowed her to pull off the green-striped black sweater that hung loosely from his frame. She felt almost like a mother bathing her child in his lack of response.
What about your own mother, you selfish girl? The one who offered to DIE IN YOUR PLACE?
Violet dropped Tate's sweater from her numb fingertips.
"Tate", she whispered, her voice shaking. She looked back into those eyes that had made her see just how different his world was from her own. "Tate, where's my mother?"
He looked down at her small feet, encased in a thin mesh of white stocking. They looked even paler in the glacial water, which was steadily draining any color from her skin that remained after the weight of the events of the night. "You look like a corpse."
"Where's my mother, Tate? Where's Vivien?"
The urgency in her voice rose as he continued to stare at her colorless flesh with a sick yet innocent fascination.
He looked up again.
"She's safe."
He looked down again. "You're the same as I was when I died the first time."
"Where is she? Where's my mommy?"
Her tone rose from that of a hushed murmur to that of shameless screaming. She wanted her mother. She wanted her safe. She wanted her to be okay.
It didn't matter how much she resented Vivien for staying with Ben, or making her move here. It didn't matter if she made her feel angry at the best of times. It didn't matter if she thought her mother's attempts to glue her Humpty-Dumpty marriage back together with a fetus were pathetic and sad.
It didn't matter because when Vivien was okay, everything was all right.
Tate returned his gaze to the girl he had once called 'perfect'. "She's hiding in a closet by the kitchen. She's fine."
"And how do you know that?" Violet retorted snappishly, crossing her arms. His lips quirked in a short bland smile before returning to their previous state.
"Because someone already dealt with the last one."
Violet made to climb out of the tub, ready to rush to her mother's side to see if she really was all right, but Tate placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"She's fine."
The look on his face practically spelt finality with a capital 'S-T-O-P-A-S-K-I-N-G'. She sighed, her shoulders going slack and her stance weakening. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it then."
He nodded once in a subtle movement of his chin. He then braced himself on the lip of the tub, pulling himself into the cold water. The resulting ripples lapped at Violet's calves, as it was only up to her knees in depth. He sat down in it, neglecting the fact that it was freezing enough to cut off circulation. He just sat there, knees drawn close to his chest, his arms covered in so many scars that they looked like patchwork and reaching, still reaching.
Violet took his hands and let him pull her down with him.
And that's all he'll ever do, Violet. He'll just pull you down with him.
Down to his level. Past rock bottom.
It was said that the Devil was beautiful. That's what made him so tempting. And dangerous.
But Violet ignored the voices in her head from where they whispered in the shadows of her darkest thoughts. The ones left to rot in a box labeled "Truth; DO NOT HANDLE".
And she sat there, cradled in the unnaturally warm arms of the perhaps not the most frightening monster in the house, but certainly the most hazardous. Violet sealed her fate, tying herself to the poor lost little boy as well as the attractive and charming cold-blooded killer that both lived inside of Tate Langdon.
Violet Harmon set her destiny in stone with softly whispered words of comfort to a broken murderer, stroking his blood-soaked hair and letting him hold her against his shaking body.
-O-0-o-0-O-
Vivien was still in shock by the time Violet came back down the stairs.
She had moved from the closet to an armchair, her shoulders visibly trembling and her soft hands clutching at her cell phone so hard that her knuckles were turning white.
"Mom."
The word escaped Violet's mouth as she rushed over, wrapping her arms around her and carefully removing the phone from her tight grip. Vivien's hands moved to shield her stomach, her eyes still wide open and staring straight ahead.
"I already called your father."
Her tone was dead, empty of any emotion or sentiment. Violet hugged her harder; the wet nurse's uniform causing spots of damp to appear on her mother's sweater. If she noticed, she didn't react.
"He's coming home early. He's taking the red-eye tonight."
"Fine, Mom, but are you okay? Did he- did he hurt you?" Violet asked the question in a shaky voice, not certain if she was asking about the would-be murderer or Tate. She still didn't know for sure who had 'taken care of' the man, but if she had to bet, she'd put her money on him.
"No."
She breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing Vivien's shoulders.
"He heard something in the basement and went to go see what it was."
"Don't go into the basement. Not without me", Tate had whispered to her once upon a lazy afternoon.
"The screams… oh god, the screams…"
Vivien buried her head into Violet's shoulder, starting to sob.
"I'm not the only monster in this house."
"I don't know what happened, but it… it wouldn't stop. I can still hear him screaming inside my head…"
"But I promise you only one thing. I won't make any promises."
"It's okay, Mom. He's gone now. We're safe. We're safe."
She continued to hold her mother, emotional fragility and all, taking the weight of the world onto her shoulders made of porcelain and decorated with paper wings.
Tate watched them from behind a doorway, his dark eyes engulfing Violet's as he watched her try to grow strong and fly away from her life.
And he watched her fail. And he watched her fall.
-O-0-o-0-O-
Tate stood in the basement, feet bare and his town jeans and mop of hair dripping water onto the concrete of the floor.
Constance stood at his left, staring at the three bodies with a look of disgust clinging to her face like lipstick left on the rim of a glass. "Was this your handiwork?"
She said it like she expected every horror that sprang from this house to be his fault and his fault alone. And the worst part was that she was mostly right.
"Not all of it." Moira's aged voice echoed from his right. That poor woman. Just another victim of the house. Of Constance's whims. Of Constance's rash decisions. And his father's repulsive habits.
"We need to get rid of this mess." Constance spoke as if this was just a little spill, or child having written on the walls in crayon. It made Tate wonder how she was ever able to raise four children. But then he remembered that all she had done was throw them tongue-lashing remarks and scathing insults every other minute. Some mother she was.
"I'll get the bleach."
-O-0-o-0-O-
"And the one with the blond hair left me alone, saying she was looking for the other woman, who hadn't come back in ten minutes."
Violet sat at the dining room table, dressed in dry clothes and staring at the swirls in the wood as she told her recollection of the story. At least, the version she had decided on only minutes after she found her mother.
"Then I came downstairs when I was sure she was gone and I found my mother sitting on the couch."
Vivien's gaze was set straight on Ben, blank and unwavering as the detective asking them questions continued.
"Now, you said that Mrs. Harmon had heard screaming from the basement. Did you hear anything? Anything at all?"
Violet shook her head. "No. I didn't hear anything." But you know that there was a lot more than just screaming going on in that basement, now don't you?
"Mrs. Harmon, are you certain that you did in fact hear screaming from the basement?"
Her mother kept staring at her husband, but shook her head. "I'm not sure. Everything just happened so fast…"
The detective sighed and put away the recording device he'd placed on the table.
"Well, please rest assured that we'll find them. No one can hide for long. Not even in a city this big."
But I know a place where you don't ever have to hide, Violet thought to herself. A place where you can't hide. A place where demons make their homes and dead things are restless.
And you'll never find them. Not even in a city this big.
-O-0-o-0-O-
She sat by the window, her arm limp and hanging out, flicking ash from the glowing tip of her cigarette. Her slightly gold hair shone in the sunlight and the light of the day made her seem even more surreal.
"Beautiful."
Her head turned suddenly so she could face him. "Tate! How did- right. You don't need open doors to get in."
Her expression was kept carefully restrained and neutral, but in her soft brown eyes, he could glimpse fleeting reactions passing by like flipping through the pages of a book.
Fear. Uncertainty. Hesitation. Relief. Affection.
The last one was the one that lingered just a bit longer than the others, and was the thing that convinced him that stepping forwards and sitting opposite her on the windowsill was the right thing to do. "Can I bum a rig? I haven't had any in a while."
Violet studied his almost sheepish grin, taking in how he was properly dressed this time around; sporting a plaid shirt, his regular much-loved jeans and a pair of ratty Chuck Taylors. As always, he was the poster boy for Grunge. He looked exactly as if he had just rolled out of bed.
He still manages to look good though, Violet. Don't try and lie to yourself.
Rolling her eyes and letting a smile trickle onto her lips, she took one more drag and held out the cigarette she'd lit seconds before he entered the room out. He took it between long fingers, pressing it into his mouth, taking a deep pull before tilting his chin upwards and letting the smoke out in a gentle stream.
"God, I've missed that."
Violet allowed herself a small laugh, taking the cancer stick back when he offered it up.
"So…" Her attempt to start a sentence was left hanging as she paused to inhale from the cigarette. "How long have you been dead?"
"Since '94." His response was light enough and his eyes remained full of the more healthy-looking darkness that usually seemed more haunting and unsafe.
"I guess that explains the look", Violet muttered, smirking a bit before she passed the rig back to Tate.
He let loose a short chuckle, looking at her as if he was still seeing her for the first time. His hand not holding the cigarette reached out, brushing her hair out of her eyes and touching her cheek. He let it fall after a minute or so, enjoying the comfortable silence.
"I guess this means you believe me, huh?" She nodded after a few seconds, gazing outside.
"There was always something a little… different about you. Something not right."
He took a drag, leaning forwards and blowing it out onto her face. Violet giggled. Tate leaned back again.
"Oh, I'm all kinds of not right, Violet Harmon", he replied, grinning again. "And not just the dead kind either."
They both turned their eyes outside, where Marsha-Molly-Morgan was putting up the 'For Sale' sign.
"You aren't really going to leave me, are you?" His voice, so happy just moments before became distressed and doubtful as the sign seemed to grow so large that it took over his entire vision.
"Couldn't you come with us?" He shook his golden head, NO.
"I can't leave the house. None of us can. You die here, you stay here."
Violet bit her lip, looking over him and the way he seemed to draw just a little closer to her, afraid that she would tell him to go away again. "I'll do my best."
His eyes moved too look at her.
"I'll beg. I'll plead. I'll throw fits. I'll complain. I'll do everything I can to stay here."
She was promising this boy- this mentally unstable and wonderfully confusing boy- a lot. But he'd saved her life so many times. More than he probably even realized. She owed him everything.
"I'll do anything."
Perhaps the smile that grew on his face should've worried her, full of dark things that creep under your skin and claw their way into your heart, wanted or not, but this was Tate.
And no matter how much of a monster Tate was- had been- would be, he was hers.
Her monster.
He was the one lurking under her bed late at night. He was the sound that she heard from outside under the cover of darkness. He was the one who would loom over her as she slept, giving her the most wonderful of nightmares that brought joy as they did horror.
Her monster.
-O-0-o-0-O-
AWRIGHT! Before I lose your attention, I'll get this out of the way and hope you actually did bother read this:
POSSIBLE M SCENE-MOMENT-THINGAMABOB: Yay or nay? (You guys' opinion very much affects my own in this! Sure, I write this story and I generally do whatever the hell I want, but you guys DO read it, so YOUR OPINIONS DO MATTER, especially on this one.)
Okay, that was what I REALLY needed to get out of the way, but in other news, I am literally one more exams from being done school this year (cue fanfare and parade) :D
That and I get a laptop soon, so that means possiblypossiblyPOSSIBLY more updates (it all depends on my level of motivation and flow of ideas... sorry :P)
Aaaaaaand...
Readers: I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT. KAY. (also note that I am typing this with the most poker-y of poker faces. I'm not generally one to express my feels on a facial level whilst on the internet BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I LOVE YOU ANY LESS)
People who favorite/add me to their alerts: (I'm running out of adjectives that can fully describe my utter appreciation for you guys buuuuttt...) you are all breathtakingly stupendous, fabulously stunning people. A great big hug to each of you. (I don't care if you don't like me infringing upon your personal space. Too bad. I want to hug you, so I will.)
Reviewers:
jandjsalmon: Greetings from ECCENTRICALLY ECSTATIC IRON MAN (Cause RDJ is awesome, and so are you. THANKS :D)
Rock The Rain: Moar Crazy Tate to come! It just keeps on going from here xD Hope you liked the chapter :)
Xvixenfreezepop: Personally, the first episode is my absolute favorite ever cause it just got me sooo freaking hooked, and I'm happy you liked the Hugo/Tate interaction. Because we ALL know who would win in a fight. Besides, Tate has all those unresolved Daddy issues to fuel that homicidal butter-knife rage ;D From here on out, I'll still be referring to the episodes for some of the events, but it diverges more and more as we go along. Hope you like this chapter too :D
Right, sorry that was so long-winded, but the first bit was the really important part, so if you all didn't read past there, I promise, PROMISE not to get angry at you. I promise.
(I lied. because THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO!)
(Nah, I lied again. I won't get annoyed :) )
That's all for now, ladies, gentlemen and variations thereupon!
-Merida