A/N: It's really scary writing Violets POV, scarier than I thought it would be I guess. Hope I'm doing her justice!

I pulled open my locker at the end of the day, shoulders hunched to avoid accidently offending some other psycho as I shoved my books into it. I little scrap of paper was wedged between two shutters on the door grate, and I pulled it out.

Violet,

I know I pissed you off earlier, but I can't stop thinking about you. This isn't a joke and I'm not setting you up. Meet me behind the bleachers at the end of the day, okay?

I'll make it up to you,

Langdon.

I wondered why he'd used his surname, when in the library I'd almost given him access to the elusive first name basis I shared with no one. I debated, biting my lip, before sighing and shoving the note into my back pocket, making up my mind as I pushed the doors open and made my way across the lot.

I was almost at my front door when someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me back off my porch, and down the side of the house. I struggled and struggled, but their grip was firm and I was pressed too close to the chest of my assailant to really struggle. Next I knew my face was pressed against the wall and I was tasting dust on my tongue in surprise as I tried to pull some oxygen into my lungs.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I tried to keep my voice level and fearless, as the person pushed against me and I felt their breath on my neck.

"I don't want to hurt you," the voice was a familiar, frustrated hiss and I only had to wrack my brain for a moment before placing it.

"Tate Langdon? Tate? What the fuck, dude?" I demanded, pushing him again. He bit down on my shoulder, telling me that struggling wouldn't help either of us.

"Your ass is far too close to my dick," he explained as he kissed the bite he'd buried in my skin.

"Unbelievable," I sighed.

"You didn't come meet me today." He stated it, not a question.

"No, so you stalked me home," I retorted, biting cheer in my tone.

"I didn't mean for it to be creepy, I just… you didn't come," he finished, confusion in his voice.

"You're so sure if this special connection we so obviously have, but you're wrong. You're a shithead track star with a whore of a girlfriend, and I'm the girl you'll never understand. Okay? That's just how it is." I pushed again, and he gave, falling away from me. I turned around, back to the wall and fury in my eyes. I could run, but I wanted to make sure I devastated him, completely, so he'd leave me the fuck alone and carry on with his perfect asshole persona.

"I don't like that," he mumbled, scuffing his shoe on the grass and becoming my literature boy again. I wasn't fooled, not this time.

"Well, I guess you didn't get the memo, but life is shit sometimes. See you around, Langdon." I sneered, before turning around to walk back to my front door, locking myself in. I went cautiously to the kitchen and got a snack, sure no one was home right now and wondering if my parents had forgotten I existed again. I heard creaking upstairs and prayed to whatever God may or may not exist that my parents weren't fucking. I didn't need that baggage.

I pushed open my door with my foot because my hands were full with food and the letter that my dad had left for me from friends in Boston.

"We're not done." I dropped the food, throwing the letter behind me. Tate was sprawled on my bed reading my journal, and he had to be a figment of my imagination because no way did he get up here this fast and invade all my personal space this quickly. No way.

"How did you get in here?" I took up my most defensive stance, stomping over to him to snatch the book from his hand. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the bed, straddling my waist and pushing my head back into the pillows.

"We're not done, Violet," he frowned like I'd disappointed him and reached a hand up to brush my hair out of my face.

"You're such a freak!" I groaned in frustration, wriggling my hand free from under his knee and socking him in the face. I felt his lip split against his knuckle, and my thought was confirmed when my hand came back bloody. He moaned, putting his fingers to his face and smearing the blood across his mouth and up his cheek like a lopsided smile.

"You're such a turn on," he mumbled, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his mouth. I watched with wide eyes as his tongue darted across my knuckles and between my fingers and I tried to ignore the tightening tingle in my stomach.

"You're a disgrace," I whispered and he smiled angelic and boyish and charming before leaning down and pressing his bloodied lips to mine.

"You're perfect," he mouthed against me as he trailed rouge kisses over the porcelain, virgin skin he violated. I pushed him off and thought about kicking his ass or running away, but I couldn't.

"You're broken," I stated, only realising the truth in my words as I said them out loud. He was broken and I was fearless and he was attracted to what I could do for him. He wanted my protection. I pushed him back against my bed and crawled on top of him. His hands slid to my waist and held me flush against him.

"I'm not broken," he growled, rutting against me hard. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but he still had a girlfriend and he was still a shithead. I pulled away from him and rolled onto my side. He propped himself up on his elbow, face flushed and lip still bleeding as it swelled up.

"It's okay to be broken… Tate." He smiled at the use of his name, and winced as his split lip opened and bled again.

"Will you help fix me?" I sighed, breathing out long and hard through my mouth until my lungs felt shaky.

"Break up with your girlfriend." Was my only replied and he groaned.

"Can't you do it for me? She'll kill me."

"She'll kill me more," I giggled and he rasped out a laugh, pushing down to nudge his nose against my jaw line. I felt the rush of air as he inhaled, breathing me in.

"Thank you." Was all he said, before standing up.

"For what?" I raised my eyebrows at him and sat up cross-legged.

"The lip, obviously. Makes me look badass." He rolled his eyes before heading for my window.

"What the fuck are you-" I stopped as he crawled across the ladder into the house next door.

"Oh, did I forget to mention? We're neighbours," he grinned, reaching his window sill and pulling the ladder back through. I was left speechless, arms wrapped tightly around myself as I considered getting a lock for that window, and feeling disgusted with myself for wanting him to crawl into my room again.

Walking to school the next day wasn't so fun, because it was actually raining and I'd been so sure California didn't have weather that I didn't even own an umbrella. A car sped past too close to the curb, drenching me in that horribly cliché, but no less inconvenient way, you see in movies. The difference here, is that the car stopped and reversed to a stop beside me, and the window was rolled down, jerky as though by hand. I was expecting some creep to poke their head out and leer at me, and that's exactly what I got.

"Hey Viiiiiiolet, whatcha doing?" Tate elongated the I in my name and I rolled my eyes, turning to face him.

"Walking to school, dumbass, thanks for the soaking by the way!" He giggled and gestured to me with his finger.

"Want a ride? Get in." He questioned but then he ordered, and I scoffed at his assumption.

"No thanks man, you'll probably abduct me. I don't fancy spending the rest of my life tied up in a shack somewhere, sorry to disappoint," I quipped and he laughed, a genuine sound, like I'd pleased him with my insult.

"That's my girl. Get in." His voice was less forceful now and I tried to supress the little glow I felt at being called 'his girl', trying to remind myself that he was a shithead and not only that, but a shithead with a girlfriend.

"Whatever," I sighed, jogging round his car and getting in because I really didn't want to get any wetter and I may as well use him, if he's going to be sticking around. By the time we got to the school the rain had stopped and students were milling around, most noticeably the bitch from yesterday… Tate's girlfriend.

"Do you want to drive off and drop me and I'll walk in?" I offered, more for my sake than his. I didn't fancy dealing with the shit-storm she'd cause if she saw me getting out of her boyfriend's car and I couldn't blame her, either, this looked suspicious because it's not like we're friends.

"Nope, I'm good. He got out the car and Leah noticed immediately, running over in her weird, wearing-too-high-heels way and wrapping her arms round his neck.

"Hey baby," her voice was too fake, and I sat for a moment surveying the scene through the windscreen and wondering if I could sneak out without being seen before realising this had to happen one way or another. I took a deep breath, putting on my best bored-to-fuck look before getting out the car. Leah saw me immediately, of course, and shoved Tate out the way, storming over to me and shoving me against the door I'd just closed.

"What are you doing?" She hissed. I looked at her for a second, trying to side-step but she dug her nails into my shoulders and shoved me back, harder.

"You deaf, bitch? I said, what are you doing in my. Boyfriend's. car." She spoke slowly as though that would help her case.

"Nothing." I stated simply wriggling out from under her grasp and aiming to dart right again.

"Hell no. He's mine, you have no purpose in either of our lives. He's a track star, and you're a nobody, okay?" I nodded, rolling my eyes. I knew she'd catch that and I knew I'd pay for it, but there wasn't really anything I could do to stop something that came so naturally to me.

"Leah, leave it." Tate's voice was low and even, and I could definitely detect the note of warning in it. Obviously Leah couldn't, or didn't care enough to regard it.

"No, I don't think you understand, bitch. I guess I'll have to give you a little incentive to leave us alone, hmm?" She looked at her perfectly manicured nails for a moment and I was expecting her to cuss me out some more, but instead she brought her hand up and clenched it into a fist, punching me straight in the mouth. I felt my bottom middle teeth stick into my lip and knew I'd split it bad, maybe bad enough to need stiches. She pulled back, glancing at the blood on her knuckles before punching me in the eye, like she was just desperate to bruise me in the easiest places. She managed one more punch to my stomach before Tate sprang into action, and I wondered for a moment if he's gained some sick pleasure from watching her beat the shit out of me. He grabbed her arms and pulled her back, keeping a distance between their bodies as though he couldn't bear to touch her. It made me smile, and remember the way he'd pressed himself against me last night.

"Get in the car." He ordered her coldly, and Leah's face went blank as she made her way to the passenger door and got in.

"Tate?" I questioned, wondering if he was taking her side yet again, and was off to fuck her and laugh about how they'd really got the freaky new kid.

"Go to class, Violet. I'll talk to you later." He didn't even look at me as he went to the driver's side and got in, starting the engine and pulling out of the lot with a screech of impatient tires on tarmac.

I couldn't focus in my classes, especially in English when I was forced to stare at the empty desk that should be filled by the most annoying, charming, charismatic shithead I'd ever met. I had to walk home, which wasn't too bad because it wasn't raining anymore, but if Tate had been here I might have managed to get a lift, seeing as he lives next door and all. I considered knocking for him, confronting him about earlier and telling him to leave me alone if he's really chosen her, and then I decided my silence and indifference would punish him more, because he spent so much time trying to be noticed. No one was home when I stepped through the front door, and I wondered, fleetingly, if my parents were even real. I never saw them outside the house, after all, and since we moved here, I'd be lucky if I saw them a couple of times a week. I dropped my bag by the stairs and trudged up them, planning my evening so I'd lose myself in a book and my MP3 and maybe sleep for a while, because I wasn't hungry. My window was open, and there was blood smeared on the sill. I closed the door gently, silently, and stepped cautiously round my bed.

"Tate?" I spoke cautiously and softly, not wanting to frighten whoever or whatever was in here. Tate was huddled up against the wall that joined my window to my bed, his hair messy, face tear-streaked and his hands crusted with dirt-dried blood.

"Violet?" He whispered, voice barely breaking the sound barrier and hands shaking. I knelt, slowly in front of him and rested a palm on his knee in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

"I'm here, Tate." I kept my voice calm and even.

"I.. I did something bad."