A/N: Sorry I've been so late with this posting, but due to the nature of the revelations contained within, I was really anxious about writing this part. So, I hope you don't hate my interpretation too much!
"My dad left, when I was pretty young. I know how cliché that sounds, but without him, I felt utterly abandoned. My mother didn't handle it well, she was never particularly strong. It wasn't so bad though, for the most part we were just ignored." He pulled in a shaky breath and I squeezed his fingers, in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled and he turned his head to me, as though he'd forgotten I was there.
"It's okay. We didn't know how to take care of ourselves much, other than the little Addie knew from watching mother before she lost it. I opened my mouth and he noticed. "Oh, sorry. Addie's my sister. I had a brother, too, Beau." I nodded, and he smiled briefly before his features reset, grave again.
"She drank a lot, I mean a lot a lot. Usually she'd pass out in the early hours of the morning and not wake up until dinner time, so we didn't have too long with her before we went to bed. I hated her, but I loved her too. I guess… that's why I let it happen at first. I wanted her to love me, so badly, and when she noticed me I felt like it would be okay again. It wasn't okay, Violet," he whispered, trailing off and I shuffled closer to him. Not because I was ready to be this close, but because I realised he needed it desperately.
"What happened, Tate?" I asked in a hushed, gentle tone. He sniffed, eyes darting from the black ocean in front of us to my face and back, as though centring himself to stop the memories from taking over.
"She likes to paint, especially when she's drinking. I used to watch her paint a lot, before things got bad. She woke me up one night, the sun wasn't up yet so I was real confused. She took me into her bedroom. I hadn't been in there in years, so I felt kind of special getting to go where the others couldn't. She asked me if I could do something very special for her." I felt the bile in my throat rising as I thought about the implications of what he was saying.
"How old were you?" I asked. He turned his head slowly to meet my gaze, eyes black.
"Eleven. The first couple of times it was just that, just standing there whilst she painted me. It was cold, but she'd never let me put my clothes on. She said I was too perfect, just like that. It wasn't enough though, it didn't keep her interested anymore. Then one night, after I'd stood for her, she told me I wasn't going to be in my room anymore. I was thirteen when she moved me permanently into her bedroom at night." He grit his teeth and pulled his hand from mine, balling fistfuls of his matted blonde curls and pulling, refusing to meet my horrified stare. "She's taken everything from me, Violet. Who would want me now?" His voice was so fragile, full of anguish and little fissures and breaks that I'm sure reflected his soul. And I wanted to kill the charismatic southern woman crouched in the mouth of that cave. I'd taken her involvement in this situation to the unconditional love of a mother protecting her child, when she was protecting herself. She was always protecting herself.
"When did it stop?" I asked, realising too late and with a sickening jolt in his silence that it may not have stopped at all.
"When I was sixteen. I fell for a girl, kind of hard. I wanted to do things to her, with her, but every time she touched me I thought of that… woman and I couldn't bear to be around her. It ruined things, because she couldn't understand what was wrong and it hurt her, so she left me. And I snapped. As if it wasn't enough that she ruined my childhood, but she was ruining my adult life now? No way. That night, I waited in my room for her to come, and of course, she didn't disappoint." He spat the last word. I pulled a hand from his head and laced his fingers with mine, watching as his face softened instantly.
"Keep going," I prompted him gently after a few moments of silence, and he nodded.
"I let her lead me into her room, I let her take off my shirt. But the moment she rested her fingers on my belt, I ripped her hand away and broke her wrist in one quick snap. I told her if she ever touched me again, I'd kill her, and then I left. I spent the night at a park, because my plan hadn't really gone farther than storming out. When I came back, she couldn't look me in the eyes and she was drinking again." He smiled bitterly at me, and for the first time I noticed the tears tracking down his cheeks. I shuffled closer to him, thumbing the tracks staining his face away. He watched, gaze wide and watery as I brought the pad of my thumb to my lips, kissing away the salty moisture. I brushed my fingers down his cheeks, noticing how close the skin stretched over the bone and wondering how long he'd been in pain like this.
"Am I a monster?" He mumbled, his lower lip quivering. I hesitated. He'd killed Leah, and I hadn't even found out how yet. I didn't know if it was an accident, or if he'd been cruel.
"No." I stated finally. He leaned his face against my neck and I stroked his hair, shuffling closer and into his lap. I pulled his face from my shoulder and pressed my lips gently to his. He made a little whimpering sound against my mouth, sending a quivering vibration through my throat.
"Everything's going to be okay?" He asked me, child-like and beautiful and broken.
"Everything's going to be okay." I glanced out, back at the cave, where Tate's mother had just slapped the man across the face. I wondered about that part of the story, too, but it was for another time. I knew I couldn't send him home again, not tonight at least. I should be afraid of him, but I wasn't. He wouldn't hurt me, I knew he wouldn't. "You're staying with me tonight." I stated, softly but without room for argument. He smiled, a little hopeful upturn of his lips.
"Really? Even though I'm… me?" His words made me want to cry. How could a creature so beautiful as him hate himself so much?
"Especially as you're you." I took his face in my hands, delicately. "No more questions tonight. We're going home." He needed to be led now, because he was the scared little child from his memories again. I stood and pulled him up next to me. He let me pull him along the beach and to my house. The lights were out so I guess my parents were asleep. We snuck in and I tried my best to keep him quiet as his heavy steps thudded along my hallway. For someone who made such a good stalker, he was certainly a long way from stealthy now. As soon as my door was safely closed, I kicked my shoes off and stripped off my jacket. He stood awkwardly in the door way, all of his previous cockiness gone as he stared at the dirt and blood crusted on the floor and window sill from when he broke in before.
"Come on," I pressed gently, leading him to the edge of the bed and pushing him gently down on the edge. He jumped a little but made no move to stop me. I knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as I dropped before him. The gesture was as symbolic as it was practical, allowing me to pull his dirty converse off and push them out of sight, under the bed. I stood, hooking my fingers in his cardigan and pushing it off his shoulders. He lifted his arms from their position across his body and shrugged it the rest of the way off. I smiled, leaned forward to kill his cheeks, forehead, and finally his lips, before crawling past him and curling up on the bed, under the heavy duvet.
"Tate… you need to sleep," I reminded him gently, reaching a hand for him and hoping fervently I was nothing like his mother in my mannerisms. It's not what he needed with the wounds so fresh. I didn't regret bringing it up though, not any of it, because I needed to understand and he needed to tell me. The moment was exactly as it had to happen, and you can't regret what you know in your heart is meant to happen, can you? He turned, dropping beside me, back to my chest. I pressed my face against the nape of his neck and wrapped my arm around his waist in what I hopes was a protective gesture. He mumbled something that sounded like 'thank you' but to reply would be an insult, so I just nuzzled against his hair and tucked my knees into the backs of his bent legs. I waited until his breathing slowed and he stopped shaking before attempting sleep, because I didn't want him to lie awake and alone where his thoughts could get to him.
I knew from the moment I woke up that it was later than usual. I'd probably missed school, and nerves twisted in my gut at the suspicion this would breed and the eyebrows it would raise. Tate was still asleep, his face void of the pain of waking. I hoped he was having a good dream, because today was going to be hard work for both of us. I shifted slightly, becoming aware of the stifling heat two bodies created under the thick duvet with the sun rising fast in the sky. He stirred, mumbling awake as his eyes opened twice, slowly.
"Morning," I whispered, breathless from the dazed, glazed look in his eyes.
"Violet," he gasped, a radiant smile that creased his dimples into perfection lit up his face and the room got brighter.
"Yeah, Tate. I'm right here." He sat up and looked around him.
"So we really did end up in your room then. I really spent the night. Huh." I smiled because I couldn't think of anything less plausible myself. If a day ago someone had told me I'd have Tate Langdon sleeping in my bed, I'd have told them they were so full of shit it's a wonder they didn't breath it out. Now? I'd kissed him on the beach and invited him into my bedroom. Oh, and let's not forget he's a murderer, right? Well, my mom always said I'd go for the odd boys.
"Don't forget that you killed Leah, too," I hadn't meant to sound so… blunt about it, and I was shocked by how level my tone was.
"How could I forget?" I wondered if he was feeling remorseful, but the shit-eating grin on his face told me otherwise and my blood ran cold before plunging south. Was I getting hot from this? Seriously? Man, someone dropped the ball on me.
"We need to go to school. Tate, there were witnesses to you two driving off yesterday. You need an alibi, something strong. You were her boyfriend, you'll be top of the suspect list if we can't come up with something. And there's a good chance I'll get dragged into this too," I worried at my lip, realising for the first time how complicated this would be. The fingers he'd been playing with in his lap seized and shot up so quickly I barely registered until they'd pinned me to the bed and pressed harshly into my shoulders.
"You. Will. Not." He grit his teeth, glaring into my eyes.
"You haven't seen me since yesterday, Violet. I gave you a ride to school because it was raining, but you barely know me. Actually, you think I'm kind of a jerk because I'm one of the popular assholes. Don't they know I run track? You'd never be friends with me." Every word dripped the force with which he spoke, how much he was willing me to take on his story. And I suppose, given my history with Leah, it only made sense to be as detached from the situation as I could.
"Okay. Okay, Tate, I'll stay out of it. But I need to keep you safe from the side-lines. You need to let me help you," I demanded, and he nodded, loosening his grip on my arms at my agreement to his terms and pulling himself off me.
"My…" I knew what he was trying to say so nodded. "She sorted it out, the alibi. She knows people." That was all the answer he gave me, but I trusted him. If anyone would know people who could get him off murder, it would be Constance Langdon.
"Okay then. You should probably go home and clean up, and then it's appearances time. You can drive me to school if you want, the picture of normalcy." I rolled my eyes and he smiled softly, cupping my chin between his index finger and thumb.
"Hey," he mumbled softly, breath ghosting over my mouth before pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss filled with meaning.
"Hey," I whispered against him. "Tate, if you don't go now I won't let you go at all, and then where will we be? Come on, if we hurry we can still make it to school, just." I stressed and he rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know, you're right." He sighed heavily and dragged himself off the bed, pacing to the door and opening it.
"Do you need me to lead you out?" I asked, not sure he'd remember the way after his condition last night.
"No… I know the way," he smirked, blushing and I waited until he'd clumped down the stairs before padding to the bathroom to take a shower and make myself look as though I didn't have a care in the world.