the beginning is the end is the beginning
Welcome again! This update is a little later than I wanted it to be - okay, not so little - but first I had no inspiration whatsoever, then I wasn't home for a few days and then I got back only to discover that my computer has died again. It's way too old. And it's still not working so I have to use my mom's laptop again.
But enough talking. Let's see what Violet's been up to, shall we?
Also, this chapter is longer. And probably the longest it's ever gonna get, so enjoy it to the fullest!
OH, AND I TOTALLY FORGOT! New username. From now on I'm BlondeTate :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 04 - Sanity
It takes Violet precisely five days to go from feeling like she was going totally insane to completely losing her shit. And considering everything that went wrong around her, she can't say she's surprised.
It's a mixture of everything.
Her life feels like a fucking horror movie.
She witnessed the death of her father - no matter how much of an asshole he was most of the time, he was her father - by the hand of her mother no less, after she was attacked by him, of course.
Her grandmother wouldn't stop fussing over her every minute of every hour, making sure she was fine even though they all knew she was not fine. No one was fine.
She hasn't left her grandparents' house in five days because outside there were gruesome zombies who wanted to eat her alive, and as revolting as that sounded, being locked up was starting to drive her crazy. She wanted to go outside. She wanted fresh air. She wanted her freedom.
And she wanted Tate.
Most importantly, she just wanted to be with Tate again. She could handle all the rest if only she had him by her side. She didn't think it was too much to ask for but of course nothing was that easy now that the world has gone crazy.
Vital things like getting food to eat became a daily struggle.
Violet wasn't allowed outside at any costs but the others had taken shifts in risking their lives to reach the store nearby just so they all wouldn't starve to death. So far it worked but the truth was that her grandparents were too old to keep this up for long and Vivien was just simply mentally unstable. In Violet's opinion, their best shot would be letting her go but nobody would even hear her out so it was a lost cause.
She didn't even bother to bring up the fact that someday the store is going to run out of stacks too and then they'll be royally screwed.
In any case, Violet still thought that being denied of food was still a better way to go then being someone else's meal.
Ironic, no? While the zombies were busy eating people, the people were busy trying to find their own food.
Maybe they should go all cannibal too, then the problem would be solved.
Violet snorts at the idea as she idly stares out the window from the first floor room that officially became hers in the last few days. Outside there are some brain eating monsters wandering around, probably looking for someone they can eat but she doesn't really see them. Her mind is elsewhere.
Her mind is on her boy, as usual.
God, she misses him. She misses him so much. Not knowing what happened to him was slowly killing her inside.
He never answered any of her calls, even though she had tried to get a hold of him at least a dozen times that day and the next. She stopped after that, because it was clear Tate didn't have his phone with him wherever he was, if he did he would call her back, she was sure of that. He must have lost it somehow.
Or he could be dead, something inside her head whispers, but that is just an option she would not consider.
Tate wouldn't leave her by herself in this world. She knows he would always fight with all he had in him when it came down to her and her safety. That's one thing she could always count on.
Previously she thought it was ridiculous how protective he was of her but if that protectiveness would help him fight just a little harder to survive, then she would never make fun of him for it ever again.
Yes, Tate would most certainly fight to survive and find her again, so she had no need to worry.
Hell, knowing him, he probably enjoys killing all those fucking zombies, she thinks with a small smile. She would enjoy it too, if her family would let her set foot anywhere outside of this house, of course.
The image of herself slaying zombies alongside with Tate sounds strangely appealing to her. Not her ideal lifestyle, no, but she would take that over this, over her own personal prison and the loneliness in a heartbeat.
Because she's lonely, so incredibly lonely.
Her mother was in a cathartic half-lunatic state most of the time, except when it came to telling Violet that under no circumstances is she allowed outside, and when Vivien herself had to go to fetch some food for themselves. Those times she was almost like the old Vivien. The other times, she sat without moving an inch on the couch with a blank expression on her face, or cried and rocked herself to sleep.
Although her grandmother repeatedly fussed over her and tried to make sure she was okay at all times, Violet felt it was only superficial and all it did was make her extremely annoyed. She only ever inquired about physical injuries - and honestly, what injuries would she have if she was always locked up? - or if she was hungry or tired. She never asked her how she felt, how was she dealing with the situation. She never asked if she was mentally, emotionally okay.
Her grandmother, she decided, was just like her parents were in that aspect. Blind and shallow.
And her grandfather? Well, her grandfather cared more about making sure his family was safe and alive than the emotional state of his 17 year old granddaughter, and Violet could hardly blame him for that.
Honestly, she doesn't really blame anyone. She accepted her family's behavior towards her a long time ago, back when there wasn't a Tate to care for her and love her. But then Tate did come along and she got used to never being alone anymore.
Now that Tate isn't here and she's stuck with a mother and grandparents who neglect her, she feels lonely again. She forgot just how depressing that feeling can be.
She tries to block it out. She's tough, she tells herself, she doesn't need anyone. Except that's farthest from the truth.
She needs Tate, she needs him to live and come back to her and heal her so she won't feel like she's losing her mind anymore. She just needs... him.
But the truth is that even if he's alive, how high are the chances that they'll ever cross paths again? Not high, she supposes. And if they never meet again, if he never holds her in his arms, if she never whispers 'I love you' in his ear, then what is she going to do? How is she going to know what happened to him? How will she ever be happy again?
The loneliness weighs down on her shoulders and it's worse than ever. It's suffocating her, making it hard to breathe in the room that suddenly feels tinier than before and she doesn't even think about what she's doing as she stands up from her chair and opens the window wide, sticking her head out.
She pays no attention to the zombies on the street, suddenly howling louder now that they can smell fresh meat because they can't get to her from where she is, so just let them crave and yearn and pine for her. Serves them right.
She closes her eyes and takes in deep breaths of fresh air and luckily for her, it seems to be working - she feels calmer now, more composed. Until she makes the mistake of opening her eyes.
And oh boy, it's a great mistake.
Because for the first time today since she started staring out the window, she actually looks at the zombies and sees them. There are more of them now than usually, probably because they can smell her and they came to try and get a bite out of her, but one of them in particular stands out.
The one with the curly blonde hair and very familiar features.
She reels back in shock, almost falling over and knocking the lamp off the table in the process. It can't be. No, it can't be him, can it?
She closes her eyes again and wills the hallucination to go away and leave her alone because she was already dancing on the edge of her sanity and she doesn't need to be pushed over. She has to hold on, she has to fight. If Tate is out there, fighting for her, she has to do the same.
A few minutes pass but she doesn't dare opening her eyes, not until a light laugh fills her ear, followed by a soft whisper. "It's not me. You can open your eyes."
She does. And what she sees makes her stagger backwards until she hits the edge of the bed, slumping to the floor like a rag doll, a broken sob stuck in her throat.
Tate is standing in front of her in all his glory, hands in his pocket, a careless smirk on his face, a mischievous gleam in his eyes and he's looking at her like nothing's wrong.
Oh. So she was already pushed over the edge.
"You're not real." Her voice is breathy, almost inaudible. She runs a hand through her hair, holding back the traitorous tears threatening to escape. God, what is happening to her?
"No," fake-Tate agrees, settling down on the floor, sitting criss cross in front of her, the pleasant smile still on his face. The sight is so achingly familiar, it gets the tears to start flowing. "But that zombie wasn't real either. Well, he wasn't me. Not everyone with blonde and curly hair is me, Vi," he explains in a voice people usually use when they're talking to little kids. Or completely lunatics, like in her case. "I'm back in Los Angeles."
Violet barely hears anything he says. She's too busy rocking herself back and forth, with her head in her hands, murmuring "You're not real" under her breath over and over again, like that would change anything. She really is, literally, going crazy, she realizes with a start. She's more like Vivien than she originally thought.
"Violet, Violet, look at me. Look at me." His voice eventually breaks through the fog in her brain and she tentatively raises her head, inspecting him with careful, guarded eyes. He looks real, she has to admit that. But he isn't, he had confirmed it himself. How could he be when he's right, the real Tate is back in Los Angeles. This Tate is no more than a hallucination of her very very fucked up mind.
And she wants him to go. Now. Because she can't afford to go off the wall right now and because he's not fucking real. And fake-Tate just won't do it for her. She wants the actual Tate Langdon or no Tate Langdon at all.
"You're not real. Go away. Go away!" She screams the last part with her eyes closed and tears running down her face, and then all is quiet for a while, making her believe that he's gone. But he's not, he's still there, still sitting in front of her. His cheery expression is gone now, replaced by a devastated, sad one, which almost makes her feel bad for yelling at him and hurting his feelings until she remembers that he's still not fucking real, so it doesn't matter. "Why can't you just go away?" she sobs, wiping away the snivel from her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. She must be a truly pathetic sight right now. "God, I'm going crazy."
"Violet." He reaches out to touch her arm, try to comfort her but she pulls back instantly before his skin could come in contact with hers, shrieking "Don't touch me" desperately. She doesn't want this fake-Tate touching her. She doesn't know if she could even feel it, if his touch would be as warm and as gentle as the real Tate's is, or if he couldn't even touch her, his fingers sliding through her arm like a ghost, but she doesn't want to find out.
He pulls his hand away, leaning back on his legs, and by the look on his face she can tell that she's really hurt him this time. Is it bad that she doesn't give a fuck?
"Is that what you want? You want me to go away?"
"Yes." Her answer comes without hesitation and then he's gone. Just like that.
She breaks down then and lets herself cry and weep for a few short minutes before she decides that she can't fucking go on like this anymore. She needs to do something before she loses it completely and settles for doing nothing all day like her mother, sitting and staring at nothing in particular.
She needs to find Tate. Whatever the cost.
She storms down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and pauses for only a moment to see what her family is up to.
Her grandmother is making dinner in the kitchen while Vivien sits at the table and watches the tiles with lifeless, unseeing eyes - yeah, big surprise there - and her grandfather is in the living room, reading one of his old books to pass the time.
She strolls towards her mother with determination in her steps and doesn't even get deterred when she repeatedly calls her name to no avail. It's like she doesn't even hear her but Violet doesn't care because she's finally found a goal she can chase and she's not going to give that up.
She's going back to Los Angeles. She's going to find Tate.
Her grandmother tries to help her get Vivien's attention with a worried look in her eyes, laying a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Vivien, dear..."
"Mom, I'm going back to Los Angeles."
That gets her attention.
Her eyes suddenly come to life and she lifts her head to stare incredulously at Violet. Her voice, only a breathy whisper, sounds disoriented when she speaks. "What?"
"You heard me. I'm going back to Los Angeles." It sounds so simple when she says it but it carries a heavy weight. It seems as though Vivien can't even comprehend the meaning of the sentence.
"Violet, what are you talking about?"
"Mom, we can't stay here forever." She raises her voice in self-defense because she can see that her mother is beginning to gather what she's trying to say and she's about to shoot her idea down. "That store is going to run out of food sometime. And then what are you gonna do?"
Vivien stands up from her seat and crosses her arms in a typical 'You're-talking-nonsense' fashion. Violet can see it in her body posture and the look on her face that she has already decided to deny her request, without even really considering it. "You're being crazy, Violet."
She almost snorts. You have no fucking idea.
"We have a house in Los Angeles. A much bigger house than this." She gestures around the room. "We would be safer there."
"And what about while we're on the road? Would we be safe then? Los Angeles is all the way across the country." That's true. She got her on this one and they both know it. That's why Violet decides to aim for the place that hurts the most.
"You're just being a coward. Like usual."
Vivien physically reels back like she was just slapped, hurt written all over her face and Violet almost feels bad for her until she speaks again. "Is this about Tate?" Looks like she's decided to play dirty too. Well, it's game on then.
Violet's eyes visibly darken at the mention of his name and her lips curl into an angry snarl as she crosses her arms across her chest too. "So what if it is? I'm still right."
"Violet, I understand that you love him..."
"No, you don't!" she lashes out angrily, shaking her head. "You and Dad haven't been in love for years, what do you remember what it feels like?" Vivien opens her mouth in shock, unable to even react properly for a moment, then she gets that reprimanding look in her eyes which she uses when she's deeply disappointed in her daughter and Violet realizes that she might have crossed the line. But honestly, she doesn't even care. She turns around, throwing a curt 'goodbye' at her grandparents who have been watching the scene unfold quietly, then stalks towards the door, her hand on the doorknob. That's when Vivien decides to speak up again.
Well, more like yell at the top of her lungs.
"Violet, you are not going anywhere!"
"Or what?" She whirls around, her hair flying everywhere in the process, her eyes blazing and her fists clenched. She's getting angrier and angrier by each passing moment, and she's starting to breathe harder the more worked up she gets. "You're gonna make me stay? Like you made me come here? I didn't even wanna go but you and Dad had to insist to keep up this ridiculous charade of a happy family we're actually not! Instead of being here, stuck in this fucking house with all of you people, I could be there, with Tate, with someone who actually cares about me."
"I care about you," Vivien snaps up, matching Violet's fury. Disbelief colors her voice at her daughter's accusation. "How can you say that?"
"You show it in a very weird way." She's quieter now, but her words sting just as much as before.
Vivien lets out an inaudible sigh and buries her face in her hand in exhaustion. This is too much for her. She didn't ask for this, she didn't sign up for it. Why is this happening to them?
When she gathers the strength to look up again, she finds her daughter hovering close to the door, watching her with an unreadable expression on her face. She approaches her slowly, grabbing her face in her hands and forcing her to look her in the eyes as she starts talking again. "Violet, you have to understand, I can't let you go." She begs her to understand but naturally, Violet is having none of it.
She shakes herself free of her mother's grip immediately. She would stand her ground in this fight. "I'm not asking for your permission."
"You're 17. You have no choice."
"Considering everything that's happened... I don't think those rules from before apply anymore."
"And what are you going to do, huh? How are you going to get there?" Vivien tries to remain calm but it's obvious she's getting frustrated again. "You can't drive."
Oh. Well, she hasn't thought of that. That will be a problem. But she wouldn't let her mother know that. "... I'll figure out something." Unfortunately for her, her voice sounds just as convincing as she feels right now, so basically not at all, and it's enough for Vivien to think she's won this war.
Her voice is softer and kind as she tries to console Violet. "Honey, I just want you to be safe."
"But..." she trails off as she tries to find the right words to express how she's feeling right now and all the time, her eyes filling up with tears again. She can feel them reflect in her voice too. "I don't feel safe without him. I'm losing my mind." She turns towards her mother, not even bothering to hide the moisture in her eyes. This time it's her who's begging the other to understand. "How is that safe?" They're both quiet for a while. Violet looks away uncomfortably because of the amount of emotion she let herself show and dries her tears while Vivien rubs her arms comfortingly and by pitying look on her face, she knows that she's breaking through the ice. "I'm going, Mom. The question is: do I have to go alone?"
Vivien knows now that she was wrong. She didn't win the war. Of course she didn't, she should have known better. She should've known that Violet wouldn't give this up, not this, not now. She was always a very stubborn girl, and if she didn't want her daughter to sneak out in the middle of the night to try to find her way back to Los Angeles only God knows how, then Vivien knows she has to cave in. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head, admitting defeat. "No, you don't. But it's getting dark outside, why don't you go and rest for a bit, and we'll go tomorrow?"
Violet's head snaps up in surprise, her eyes full of hope. "Really? You mean it?"
"I think I do. Come on." She takes hold of her arm, leading her towards the stairs, telling her to go to sleep now and Violet obeys without a word because she realizes that she really does feel tired all of the sudden. She turns back towards her mother on the top of the stairs, telling her with her eyes what she can't say with her words, that she's grateful and she really appreciates this, and that she didn't really mean all those things she said earlier, even if that's not true. She meant them but Vivien doesn't have to know.
"Vivien, are you sure this is a great idea?" She hears her mother approach her from behind as Violet disappears to her room. She turns around to gauge her reaction, taking note of the slightly disapproving look in her eyes. She doesn't think this is a great idea either.
"She's right, Mother. We can't stay here forever."
"But Los Angeles? That's so far away."
"I know my daughter. She's not going to rest until she gets what she wants. And I can't let her go alone. This is my only option," Vivien explains then pauses briefly, inspecting the woman in front of her closely. She and her mother, they've never been close. She didn't know how to express her emotions, she didn't know how to properly care for her daughter, so she preferred to make herself seem like she was a cold, unforgiving woman. Because of that, Vivien felt like she never really had a mother. But right now... she feels like she needs her in her life anyway. Because God knows, she can't do this alone. "Will you... be coming with us?"
Her mother doesn't answer immediately. She's weighing her options, Vivien can see that and she almost accepts the fact that she's going to have to do this without her parents, when she turns back to her husband, barking an order at him. "Get your things packed. We're leaving tomorrow."
She's been trying and failing to fall asleep for at least an hour now when he approaches her. She knows he's there because she can feel him watching her - the real Tate always did that too, watched her sleep, in a creepy yet romantic way.
He hovers at the side of her bed, uncertain because of what happened earlier - which is ridiculous because he's just a creation of her own mind, how could he be uncertain? - and she decides right there that there must be a reason why her brain chose this moment to come up with him again. It's trying to tell her something. And she's pretty sure she knows what.
She realizes it's pretty fucking cheesy, but she always had problems sleeping without Tate, ever since that first time he stayed over at her house after he took her virginity, and it's no different now. So her brain - what a clever, clever brain - came up with this substitute just so she can fall asleep and not die out of exhaustion. And she's grateful for it.
Earlier she was repulsed by the idea of talking to him, let alone letting him touch her, but now she's just fucking tired and she has no strength to be mad or sad or disgusted. She just wants to sleep. And if pretending that this fake-Tate was her real Tate would help, then she would do that, no regrets, no apologies.
"I'm sorry I yelled earlier," she whispers into the dark just to let him know that she's not angry anymore and she's not going to send him away again. He hums quietly and she lets out a relieved sigh when he climbs into bed with her, intertwining their fingers and holding onto her tightly. Turns out his touch really is as warm and comforting as the real Tate's.
"It's okay," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. "Sleep, Violet."
And this time around, it only takes her three minutes to fall asleep into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
Can I just say that I love half-crazy Violet? So much fun.
Also, shameless self-advertisement here. I wrote another Violate story a few days ago so if you haven't checked it out yet, maybe you'd like to? It was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but more than one people added it to their alerts, so I figured what the heck, that must be a sign. I'm considering continuing it, I might even have a stable idea, but only after I finished this.
Well, until next time, guys.
Kathy
