Wild Flowers & Whispers of Love
Sighing Chelsea wearily glared over at the sunken eyes of the woman that was the cause of so much pain and suffering.
Constance was propped up against her pillows, on her elaborate antique bed, laboring each breath from exposed ribs that fanned outward down her torso.
While it was true that she was too weak from starvation to harness any real power over Tate to be a threat, that Violet's heart, pure with love's sweetest of intentions was safe, far from harm, there was one truth that couldn't be ignored.
Constance's existence in that house would forever loom over the lost souls whose hearts were torn away, holding Tate a prisoner to his past, and the dirty sinister deeds she forced upon him since he was a child.
Although trapped in her tomb of a bedroom, now unable to move freely in her weakened state, she still was threat, her misery was a dark force that would never allow Tate and Violet to know any real peace.
She'd be a constant reminder, a hovering evil decrepit skeleton, hell bent on making the cabin on the ocean a haunted prison for which Tate could never escape.
Incessantly howling throughout the night, banging her bloody knuckles against the wall, laughing at his misery, knowing that as long as she remained, his blissful life with Violet would be shrouded in her torturous screams.
Tate would be chained there forever, even if Violet stayed, his mother would ensure he wouldn't be happy, he'd always be reminded, haunted, tormented by the very evil that put him there.
Chelsea stood in Tate's doorway, while a line of very pissed off spirits with gaping holes that once held precious tender hearts, now seethed with the darkest of intentions filled the remaining rooms, devising an eternity of hell for him.
Whispers hissed throughout the sea air, first on the agenda, get rid of his only solace, his heaven on Earth, his only love, Violet.
Now this should come easy, all they needed was to uncover the truth, make her see, lift the veil of deceit.
Violet could understand his need to hide who he was, or more to the fact what he was, from her, not everyone would be so accommodating to the fact that he was indeed a spirit, tethered to a house on the foggy shores of a lonely stretch of beach in the far reaches of Maine.
She could even wrap her head around his need for vengeance against Daniel, the man who made her life miserable, who forced her to doubt herself at every turn, making her believe than she was less than the dirt beneath his shoes, a sexually frigged, ugly girl, who had only herself to blame for his disinterest and ultimate escape into another woman's arms.
Violet knew of Daniel's venomous tongue, while she herself couldn't have done such a thing, a part of her, the darkest part, felt a slight gratification in his ending, and a secret joy in the fact that Tate loved her enough to punish him, even to his death.
All that considered, there wasn't a spirit, Chelsea included, that felt that Violet would accept his most dastardly crimes.
Manipulating women with his innocence as a child, then, when older, his charms and good looks, bringing them to their death, to the beast that would feast upon their still beating hearts.
Yes, it was true Violet could look past much for love, but his role in the demise of The Moody Beach Thirty, could never be one of them.
Even as Chelsea looked down upon them sleeping together, wrapped in each other's arms, she knew plans were being devised, the girls were getting restless, his happiness was like salt in their wounds only fueling their need for revenge.
Walking softly towards his boyish, sweet face, Chelsea couldn't help but place a tender kiss on his lips, it was one of innocence, of true love, complete and total devotion.
He may have stolen her life, but she knew the hand his mother played, she knew it was his life that was taken too, ripped away in the earliest of years, forced against his will to meet her insidious demands.
She felt that in a real way Tate was also a victim, her first, a little boy who wanted his mother's love, who was scared and all alone in this world.
Over the years Chelsea stayed in the shadows, watching him from afar, falling in love, for the first time and what would come to be her last.
She realized that love didn't always mean walking hand in hand, or making love, sometimes it meant great sacrifice, putting the one you care for before your own happiness, so that they could be free.
Her eyes edged sadly towards his window, watching as the sun disappeared over the horizon, revealing a myriad of stars in it's wake, also alerting her to the fact that it was time.
Time for all of this to end.
Pulling her bottom lip in shyly, she placed her cold hand on Tate's shoulder shaking him gently awake.
"Tate, we need to talk."
His sleepy eyes opened to find his Chelsea standing over him, the real Chelsea.
In the moment he couldn't believe that he was tricked by Lydia, that the absence of those glimmering emerald eyes didn't tip him off.
"Sure honey."
Taking his hand in hers, relishing the little time left she had with him, Chelsea led him downstairs, holding her finger to her lips, so he wouldn't alarm the others.
Taking him outside, underneath the bright orange luminous glow of a Hunter's moon, she led him to the water's edge until the sea lapped over their bare toes.
Turning towards him, she held his hands while looking up into his black eyes that were filled with remorse and endless guilt for what he had done to her, his special girl, the one that should never had been there, his biggest sin.
"Tate, we need to talk."
Nodding, caring fully about her feelings, he skimmed her freckled cheek with the back of his hand.
"Sure sweetheart, anything for you."
Her body clenched in pain, knowing what she was giving up, understanding that if this worked she'd never see those beautiful angelic dark eyes, be lifted high from the sound of his soothing voice, or feel the touch of his icy hand graze across her cheek again.
Still the price of his happiness, was one she'd gladly pay.
Searching for courage in the curve of his warm grin, she took a deep breath, before shakily speaking softly so no one else could hear.
"Tate, the girls, they're jealous of Violet… of what you two… have together."
Squeezing her hands, appreciating her concern, Tate shrugged her warning off.
"Chels, you are so sweet, so kind to be worried for me, but they'll eventually get bored. I can handle their anger, I have for so many years now."
Nodding the strawberry haired girl lowered her eyes to the black water as it pooled around her ankles, knowing that he had no idea what she was talking about.
Stepping closer worried she'd be overheard, Chelsea let go of his hands and grabbed his shirt, fisting it in her little hands bringing his ear to her cherry lips.
"Your mother has been speaking to them, while it is true she has no power to move from her bed, she can still use her mind to 'make' things happen. Her energy combined with the girls, will be enough to send a message to Violet."
Reeling back, Tate widened his eyes, grasping her fists with his hands.
"How Chels, how will they do it? When will they do it?"
Gazing back up at the house, she spoke faster as fear swelled inside her.
"Anyway they can, maybe they'll write it in the fog of her mirror in the bathroom when she takes a shower, maybe in the sand just before the border from which we cannot pass, I don't know but they will find a way… once they are strong enough, and with your mother's help it won't be long before Violet is told, before she knows what cannot be unknown, that you are The Moody Beach Thirty Killer."
Shocked by words that Chelsea never dared utter, he looked as if he'd been physically punched in the gut as tears welled in his eyes.
Responding the same, horrified that she had hurt him, she wrapped her arms tight around his waist, burying her face in his chest.
"You know I don't feel that way, you weren't the one, your mother was responsible for tearing our hearts out, for taking our lives, and trapping us here. I didn't mean to hurt you, but you need to heed my warning Tate, they will make sure that Violet sees it differently. They will get their revenge, she will leave and you will be heartbroken if you don't listen to me."
Stroking her hair tenderly, Tate glanced up at the cabin with hatred, for himself and the devil inside too weak to move from her bed.
"I'm so sorry Chelsea."
His voice broke as he finally, after all these years, found the courage to face what he had done to her.
"I've wanted to say that for so long, but what is a simple apology compared to an eternity of pain, an end to such an innocent life, of a heart so kind and beautiful it dares to continue on long after it is destroyed."
Crying opening now, Chelsea pushed herself away from him, knowing that time was quickly running out.
"Listen to me now, take Violet, go to the edge of the beach, as far as the house will allow you. Stay there, don't come back till dawn, no matter what you hear or see, promise me Tate."
Holding her face in his hands, he had a horrible sinking feeling that this would be the last time he'd ever gaze into the innocence of her emerald stare again.
"Chelsea, why… why are you helping me, after everything I've done. I don't understand."
Bashfully stepping away from him, she gave him a slight smile as she gazed over her shoulder.
Tate saw it suddenly, two big eyes peeking over bright red braids, and a colorful rainbow poncho… love, it was love.
"Go Tate, get Violet, do it now… please hurry."
Disappearing before his eyes, Tate lowered his head as guilt washed over him in crushing, heartbreaking waves of regret for his little flower child, his precious Chelsea.
Suddenly a shrilling scream echoed inside the house, causing Tate's thoughts to rush back to Violet.
Running hard he dug his bare feet into the sand until he reached the door.
"Violet!"
"Tate!"
Appearing at the top of the stairs, Violet looked terrified, it was only when she moved slightly to the left that he noticed Lydia standing behind her.
A wicked grin stretched across her mouth as she raised her hands outward to shove Violet down the steps.
Catching her before her neck snapped against the Kitchen floor, Tate fell back holding her tight in wonder.
Chelsea was right, the girls were growing stronger, never before had they been able to touch a living being.
Scoping her up in his arms, Tate grabbed a blanket from the velvet sofa before running out the door shutting it tight behind him.
"Tate what's happening? Who was that?"
Unable to walk, Violet rubbed her ankle realizing she must've hurt it falling down the stairs.
"I'll explain later, we have to go."
Wrapping her in the blanket, he carried her off into the dark night, further than he ever dared to venture before, past the point where he felt weak and sick, until he could no longer move.
Collapsing, hiding behind a tall sand dune, he pulled Violet close to his chest, shaking, staring out into the vast, endless sea, that had always brought him comfort in the past.
"Tate, please talk to me, tell me what's happening… why are you so scared?"
vTv
Pushing past countless, lost, angry souls, Chelsea braved her worst fears as she grabbed a bloody sac from the attic to make her way towards Constance's bedroom.
Pushing open the heavy door, she shivered as she looked upon the gruesome sight before her.
Constance was mere bones, oozing with bile, hindered with yellowish mucus covered skin that stretched tightly across her high cheek bones.
Bulging bloodshot eyes shot up towards the little girl who trembled in her presence.
"Finally."
Edging her glare down towards the sac twisted around her pale little hand, Constance curled her rigid index finger towards herself beckoning the girl to come closer.
"Bring me her heart, and you shall have what you've always wanted, my son's heart in return."
Nodding Chelsea choked back tears hearing the girls gathering outside, a symphony of whispered voices overlapped each other just outside the door, curious as to what was happening.
Knowing the little girl feared these girls, Constance screeched her disapproval silencing the voices outside.
"Don't worry dear, I'll protect you from those little whores, come to me now, give me the heart of the one they call Violet, the one that beats only for my son. Together we'll devour it, leading him straight into your waiting arms."
Face to face with the twisted figure on the bed, Chelsea pulled the dripping organ out, placing it in the bony hands of the one that started it all.
Wheezing with delight, Constance dislocated her jaw opening her mouth wide, as yellowed decaying teeth forced their way into the bloody muscle, chewing it fast before shoving it down her gullet as quick as she could.
Falling back onto her pillows she smiled horrifically, waiting for the effects to begin.
Soon her youthful self would start to return, giving her the strength and power to resume her reign of terror over the sleepy seaside town that had grown to fear it's darkest secrets.
Closing her eyes, Chelsea wrapped her arms around herself as Constance began to cough violently.
Clutching her stomach she started to viciously shake until she was convulsing in unimaginable agony.
Leaning over her satin pink sheets, Constance turned towards the little girl in shock as vomited pieces of the blackened heart spilled all over her bed.
"Impossible!"
The ear piercing scream was so loud it ripped through the house, far across the sandy shore shaking Tate to his very core.
Still he listened to Chelsea and stayed away, holding Violet tight in his arms fearing the worst.
Sitting now with her legs crossed peacefully, Chelsea gazed up at the shriveled hellion spewing chunks of Violet's father's blackened heart from her slimy gullet.
Feeling the release of Constance's hold on the house, Chelsea waved her hand in the air.
"Free yourselves."
"NO!"
Looking up at Constance still gagging on the tainted heart, she calmly spoke.
"The girls are gone, their souls are free from this house, from you, they are at peace now, your power is gone."
Heaving still over her flowered silk comforter she shook her head forcing a single word from her straining torn throat.
"How?"
Standing now leaning against the wall she sighed heavily.
"The heart I gave you was from a horrible man, one whose intentions were to only put forth pain and suffering into this world. He was Violet's father, violent, abusive, he was a hateful waste, one that came to tear her apart, to drag her back to her other world, away from Tate."
Looking down at the organ shredded, mixed with acid and bile Constance struggled once again to speak.
"Tate?"
Shaking her head Chelsea lifted her eyes towards the window overlooking the beach.
"No, Tate had no idea he was here, Violet never told him that he was coming. He found me walking outside along the edge of the water. It was then that I knew what I had to do. I killed him, took his heart, leaving his body to drift out to sea."
Holding out her hand, Chelsea watched sadly as her fingers began to blacken.
"Unfortunately everything comes with a price, the one that delivers the heart must abandon their soul, I could feel it from the moment I cut it from his chest, the only way to rid this house of you, was to take you to hell myself."
Crumbling into her own vomit, Constance stared aimlessly at the little flower child, the innocent that was the only one strong enough to bring her down.
"It wasn't that hard to figure out Constance, you needed a female heart, all of your victims were girls, not one man or boy… I figured that meant something, that possibly a male heart would lack the essence you needed to rejuvenate your youthful body. It seems I was right. It's having the opposite affect on you, you're decaying fast, from the inside out."
Raising a shaky finger towards Chelsea, Constance grinned in one last delight.
"Yes, I'll suffer along with you, but you'll never have Tate. He is free from you, free to love and to be loved, he will finally know real happiness, which is all I've ever wanted."
vTv
One year later…
"Tate! Hurry it's time! The sun is setting!"
Running to her side, wild flowers in hand, Tate kissed Violet softly on the cheek.
"I'm here, we can go now."
Wrapping his arm lovingly around her, bringing her close, they walked along the edge of the ocean as the tide rushed over their bare feet.
"So how does it feel to be on the New York Times number one best seller list?"
Snuggling into his icy skin, Violet gazed up into his deep dark eyes with mixed emotions.
"I'm just glad her story is being told, even if the world believes it to be fiction."
Nodding, gazing out at the bright orange sun as it disappeared into the black ocean, Tate's voice faltered.
"She deserves so much more, I hope that she knows that I cared for her, that she was special to me."
Noticing the change in him, Violet knew they had gone far enough.
"It's happening isn't it? You're getting weak."
Looking up at the sand dune and the tall sea grass rising alongside it, Tate nodded.
"Yeah this is it, this is place."
Kneeling down they brushed away the sand until their hands felt the stone marker.
"Violet, are you sure you have no regrets, that this house, that I … am enough for you?"
Kissing him deeply she ran her fingers through his blonde waves tenderly.
"Finding you, loving you, is more than I could've ever asked for. I could never regret my life with you Tate."
Laying the flowers over the blank stone, they both wiped away a tear for the little girl that gave her soul so that he could be set free.
"So your publisher didn't have a problem with the change in the title?"
Shrugging sadly as she drifted her fingers over the cool surface of the stone, Violet whispered softly.
"No not at all, he agreed after reading the book that 'Chelsea's Sacrifice of Love' fits the story perfectly."
Arranging the delicate purple and yellow flowers just right, Tate stood bringing Violet with him.
"I just hope she's in a good place, that she's as happy as we are."
Nodding Violet laced her fingers through his reassuringly.
"I'm sure she is, someone as kind as Chelsea? I can't imagine she wouldn't be saved somehow, someway."
Choked up with emotion, Tate wiped a tear from his eye. "I just wish I knew for sure."
Leading him back towards their house, Violet clung to him, soothing his worried mind.
"Maybe someday she'll send us a sign, until then we'll just have to believe she's ok."
Walking till her unmarked grave was just out of sight, Tate turned back feeling as if someone was there.
Searching the empty beach, he whispered his feelings to the brave little girl, who he would never forget.
"I love you Chelsea."
Placing wild flowers one by one along her auburn hair that flowed long and curly over her pretty dress, a happy little girl gazed up from the beach to whisper back softly.
"I love you too Tate."
the end
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thank you to all that followed this story, my sincere apology for taking so long to end this, the stories you put your heart into are always hard to finish.
jandjsalmon, Sarah v, Rebecca, thank you for your reviews.
I especially want to thank CMLangdon for all your extremely kind words throughout this fic, also, I just have to know, you sign your replies Chels, is your name Chelsea? because that would be so amazing! :)