Time had officially stopped. He was looking at me expectantly, but I could see the fear of rebuttal in his expression. I dropped my gaze to my shoes, picking at the grass around me. I knew I had to answer him, it wasn't fair to leave him hanging like this, but I didn't have an answer for myself yet. I would have to be utterly insane to even consider it. I had to be insane to run away from the school with him today. The police would surely be out looking for me now, and would have connected the dots between me and Tate. They would know that I knew him, enough to protect him against murder charges. If I were looking in from an outsiders perspective, I'd want to hit me. I was acting like one of those pathetic, lonely women who fall in love with prisoners on death row, just to have somebody in their lives. But from an internal perspective, feeling what I felt and knowing what I know about Tate, it's just not like that. There is nothing text book about him, and nothing cliché about our relationship.
"I…" I broke off my thought, because that's where it ended. I didn't know whether to think about myself or about him, or about us. And I didn't know what was the best thing for me. I liked Tate. He'd killed someone. She was a bitch. Did that matter? Was it a justified murder? No, no it wasn't. At all. The air shifted around us, and I glanced up through my hair to look at him. He'd drawn his knees up to his chest and pressed his mouth against them, and his hair had fallen into his eyes. I wanted to push it back out of his eyes, but I was worried about what I would find there. He must be scared right now, and not just of my answer. He'd killed his girlfriend. She may have been a bitch and he may have hated her, but murderous thoughts and murderous actions were a universe apart and he'd crossed the line. He was a scared little boy, the kid cowering in the corner of my bedroom, eyes wet with tears and trust. He trusted me, and he needed me. If I didn't go with him, I knew there was no way he'd last more than a few weeks before he either gave himself up or was caught through grief and carelessness. But was I really that selfishly selfless? Could I give everything up for a boy I just met, yet had a stronger connection with than anyone else in my life. Hell, I connected better with Tate than I did my own parents, how sick is that?
"I shouldn't have asked, huh," he mumbled against his jeans. I didn't want to tell him yes, or no, because he had every right to ask and I've have been pissed if he didn't.
"We don't have anyone else," I replied, and he searched my face, trying to stifle the glow of hope beginning to light up his features at my ambiguous words. I wasn't ready to answer and I didn't want to lead him astray. "But we don't really have each other, either," I added and he nodded, his face becoming stony and serious again as he studied the worn fabric at his knee. I contemplated a moment longer, before deciding I didn't have enough to know the answer yet, and I would have to risk hurting him to be able to give him what he needed. I pushed myself onto my knees and crawled towards him, pushing his knees apart with my shoulder and settling in his lap.
"I just-" I began to explain but he cut me off with the press of his lips against mine. He knew, as well as I do, what I needed in order to progress. He pulled away after a few moments, but I'd made up my mind. The kiss had been soft and slow, and he placed a second, quick kiss to my lips like a signature before pressing his forehead to mine.
"Tate, they'll never understand you," I began, but rustling in the bushes behind us broke me off mid-sentence and I spun, in time to see the police officers surrounding us.
"Don't move until I tell you, understand?" Tate whispered against my neck, and I nodded slightly, a tiny jerk of my head that only he would notice. I stared at the police officer, who stared back with a stern, slightly surprised expression.
"You're the Harmon girl?" He asked briskly and I nodded, unable to form words. My emotions were already too shaky from the revelation I'd made within myself and the answer I was preparing to give Tate.
"Now," Tate mouthed against my neck and I jumped up, not knowing where I was supposed to be jumping to. I spun wildly as the police officers bared down on me, shouting at each other and at me.
"Stop! Get down on the ground!" One yelled, and I dropped to the floor, uncomprehending because I hadn't tried to move at all. I stayed there until hands grabbed at my arms and pulled me to my feet.
"You're going to have to come with us, Ms Harmon, for your own protection." I didn't understand what he meant, for my own protection.
"Why? What do you mean? Why would I be in danger?" My questions were met with silence and they wouldn't even look me in the eye as I was lowered into the back of the squad car. Wait…
"Where's Tate?" I asked, and was met with more silence.
"Did you kill him?" I asked, wondering at the hysteria in my voice. The panic bubbled up inside me and I thrashed on the backseat, realising for the first time that my hands were cuffed. The car came to a stop and I was escorted into the bleak sheriff's building. "What's going on? You have to tell me what's going on!" I was pushed into a seat and my handcuffs were removed, I rubbed at my wrists and noticed the freshest of my self-inflicted wounds had been broken open by the press of the metal. Tate would have liked it. Tate. I tried to control my breathing and compose myself, knowing I was being watched and assessed. When I was sure my heart wasn't going to lunge out of my throat, I looked up and noticed the crowd of stone-faced people around me.
"Violet Harmon?" A woman stepped forward, voice soft and lightly probing.
"Yes… where is Tate? Where are my parents?" She smiled softly at the bewilderment I knew was all over my face.
"Your parents are on their way now, sweetheart. Tate Langdon on the other hand, he escaped custody earlier today, in the park. You're a very lucky girl, Violet. He hadn't had a chance to hurt you yet, and so long as you stay in police custody he won't get a chance to, I'm sorry, I'm sure this is a lot to take in," she gave me a sympathetic sort of half smile and I blinked, uncomprehending.
"What do you mean, hurt me? Tate wouldn't hurt me… we're kind of friends."
"Friends?" She asked, glancing back at her colleagues, who began taking down notes. I noticed a tape-recorder sitting on the desk in front of me.
"Yes… friends. I only just moved here," I trailed, because the police officers were all looking at each other and shaking their heads, a few were talking in hushed whispers.
"And before you moved here, you had no contact with Tate Langdon, at all?" She asked, seriousness entering her tone. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
"Not at all… will someone please tell me what I'm missing here?" I pleaded and she nodded.
"Come with me, Violet. We have a lot to discuss. Would you like to wait for a parent to be present in the interrogation room?" She asked and I shook my head. The two men at the door to the interrogation room hesitated when they saw I was alone, but the woman held up a hand.
"She refused to wait for her parents. It's got clearance." She explained and one of the men nodded, allowing us access to the room and closing the door behind us. I sat on one side of the white-slab desk and she sat on the other, a tape-recorder between us. "Just a formality," she assured me, when she saw me eyeing it up. "You're not on trial here, Violet," she added, giving me a warm smile. I didn't like the way she was treating me, as though I were a traumatised child.
"Could you just explain what's going on? Tate…" I trailed and she nodded.
"We didn't realise you weren't aware of anything that's been going on… Tate painted quite a picture of your relationship together, and your knowledge of his crimes." Crimes? Plural? Tate?
"You talked to Tate? I thought you said he escaped custody?" I challenged and she nodded.
"Yes, but his journals, art, and scrapbooks told a very different story." I opened and closed my mouth. They'd been through his stuff. That meant they knew he'd done it. For sure. We were out of the game.
"Oh," I managed.
"Would you like to hear it all now?" She asked and I nodded violently, because I was dying to understand the situation. I hated being kept in the dark and I hated being treated like a child.
"Tate Langdon is a troubled boy, Ms Harmon. Earlier this afternoon, when we discovered the hidden location of Langdon and yourself, we had approached with caution, fearing the worst had already happened. Fortunately, he did not get the chance to finish the destiny he had set for himself, because you got away from him. Unfortunately, however, Langdon escaped, but the important thing is that you're safe." I frowned.
"Tate wasn't trying to hurt me in the park back there. He was… we were, well, kissing," I explained, feeling the burn in my cheeks as I blushed. I was kissing a murderer. What must this police woman think of me. Her expression didn't change.
"Perhaps, but the gun he had pressed to your temple looked real enough, and we believed he would shoot you."
"That's why you didn't move in on us? I wondered why you were just standing there… why would he have a gun? Why would he point it at me?" No, this wasn't real. They were trying to turn me against him, so they could get a testimony against him. They didn't have anything on him at all.
"I'm sorry, Violet, this must be a shock."
"No, it's bullshit, is what it is."
"We believe Langdon planned to make you his second victim, as he was sexually interested in you. From his journal, we believed you were already engaged in a sexual relationship with him, but it is becoming evident that this isn't the case?" She phrased it like a question, and I shook my head, numb with pain and my resolve wavering.
"No… no, we just met. He was an asshole, but things were getting better," I mumbled, keeping my eyes glued to the desk in front of me and the pale, small hands I didn't recognise as my own, shaking as I held my fingers together tightly.
"I'm very sorry, Ms Harmon." She glanced at the door for a moment, and stood up. "Your parents are here. You will be able to go home tonight, but don't worry, we're sending a squad car with you, you'll have round the clock security surveillance until we've captured Langdon." She smiled at me and I smiled back, trying to make my expression seem natural when I was just suspicious. Were the police officers for my protection, or to enforce a captivity upon me for as long as they couldn't charge me with anything? Maybe they thought I knew where he was hiding, and that I'd lead them to him. I wasn't that stupid. Or, maybe I was, and he wasn't that stupid, because I really didn't know where he was. My mom was crying, and dad was shouting at an officer with a notepad. The moment they saw me, they rushed forward, enveloping me in hugs I didn't really want.
"My poor baby," mom whimpered, kissing my hair.
"Let's get you home, Vi," my dad added, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulder and steering me towards the doors. We were stopped by an officer, who gave us an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry, but she'll have to ride in the squad car. Strictly for her own protection. Langdon is a dangerous criminal and if he's looking for Violet, she needs to be protected."
"Well, can I ride with her?" My mom asked, placing a hand on her hip that screamed 'I'm going to whether you say so or not'. I was grateful, for a moment, that she still cared. Sometimes you need to be reminded it's okay to be a kid, because you have a mother. Tate didn't have a mother, not really. The thought of him sent a twinge of discomfort through me, though I didn't know why. Was I scared of him? Or for him?
"Of course you can. As I said, it's for her protection only. She's not in custody of any kind," he assured us, but the tightening around his eyes told me otherwise. The ride home was longer than I'd expected, because I was looking out the window and every flicker of a shadow on the darkened sidewalks made my heart leap into my throat, and more than once I thought I spotted blonde curls darting behind bushes. But that could be my mind playing tricks on me, wishful thinking or the cruelties of a frazzled, terrified mind. Home held no comfort for me, because my sheets were still rumpled from this morning and I couldn't believe it had only been one day. Just this morning, I'd woken up with him here, and his scent lingered on my sheets, faint body spray and something rustic and 100% boy. I pressed my face shamelessly to the pillow he'd used, breathing him in and allowing a single, confused tear to roll out of my eye and onto the fabric beneath me.
"Hey, it's okay, don't cry," I shot up at the sound of the voice, of his voice, so close to my ear that he may as well have been inside my head. The room was empty, and I choked on a sob because my family had been pushing me towards the edge of sanity for seventeen years, and he'd pushed me firmly off of it with a kiss and a soft smile.
"I miss you," I whispered into the darkness of my room, though no one could hear me but the Tate in my head.