Tate let his eyes scan over the various people Chad had him 'follow'. Most of them posted pictures of other people, saying how jealous they were about a variety of features the person in the picture had, but they lacked. He wasn't really paying attention until he got to a question someone had answered; their name was violetsfiercebullshit. He read the question left by the anonymous person and then her response; he hated that someone was attacking another person like that.

He clicked on Violet's page and read her little 'about me' section. It was very direct, just saying her name, location, and age. His eyes focused on the picture of her; she was quite beautiful. She had long blond-ish colored hair hanging in her face, light brown eyes, and a smirk playing on her lips which made her dimple prevalent. Her eyes were quite sad looking, which in return made him sad.

He clicked the "Ask Me Anything" button and began to respond:

I don't know what the Hell that gray face's problem is, but they need to shut the fuck up. You're beautiful and don't let someone tell you otherwise. They're just assholes who have nothing better to do with their lives. Please, don't listen to them.

He didn't know why he felt protective over someone he had never met or even spoken to, but there was something about her that made him want to get to know her. Something deeper than just being attracted to her.

"Have we made any friends, yet?" Chad asked as he entered Tate's room. Tate was sitting on his bed, Indian style; his laptop was in between his knees and he had a scowl permanently etched in his facial expression. He shook his head at Chad's question. "Well, what are you staring so intently at?" Chad made his way over to the bed and stood next to Tate. His eyes caught the picture of Violet and he smiled. "Ah. Yeah, she seemed to like the same things as you do; birds and Kurt Cobain," Chad chuckled.

"Who is she?" Tate asked, his eyes still glued to the screen.

Chad shrugged. "That's where you come in. Send her messages and get to know her."

Tate looked up at Chad. "I sent her one already because I saw somebody sending her hateful messages, asking if she was dead and that she was ugly. Asshole must be blind."

Chad laughed. "Yes, there can be some hateful people on the internet. I'm sure she'll appreciate your little gesture."

Chad started to walk away while Tate hit the dashboard button and saw a red number one over the envelope. "Wait, Chad, come here," Tate called.

"What?" He walked back next to Tate and watched as Tate pointed to the number. "You have a message. Click it." Tate did as he was told; it was her. She had responded so quickly. Chad moved in closer to read the response. "Haha, thank you for that message. I wasn't going to let some coward's ignorance dictate what I do with my life. But I appreciate your concern and thank you for the compliment. I'm Violet. She sounds delightful." Chad smiled. He looked back at Tate who was glaring at him. "Well, I'll leave you to it, now."

"No, what do I say?"

Chad rolled his eyes, dramatically. "I can't teach you everything. Just talk about yourself; minus the killing and being dead part. I hear that's a real downer with girls," he teased.

Tate glared and Chad skedaddled out of the room. "What do I say?" he asked himself.

He clicked reply and just let his fingers move as though they had a mind of their own.

It's no problem, I just hate seeing people be bullied. I was bullied.

Backspace.

Yeah, sure, I just wanted you to know how pretty you are.

Why was it so hard to find the right words? Backspace.

Hi, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna hook up?

What was he? Some cocky asshole? Backspace.

Nice to meet you, Violet. I'm Tate. How are you doing?