Just warning to anyone who isn't fond of blood, but this chapter is fairly graphic about issues to do with cutting so if you don't like that kind of thing I would advise you to skip past it. And, for that reason I am changing this fiction to an M rated.

Also, when it gets to the part where Tate and Violet are sitting in silence you might want to listen to the sound of rain on a YouTube video. It is really relaxing and helps you imagine the feel of the atmosphere. Give it a try:)

www.(youtube) watch?v=QXoJb8p_HG8&feature=related - This one is really nice. Just remove the brackets and you should go straight to the video.

Chapter 4~

The rain splattered loudly against the outside of the window as Violet sat and watched without an ounce of interest. Bored. It was a rainy Tuesday in February and still the coldness continued from the harsh winter they had encountered.

It had been half a year. 6 months since she had last seen him and nothing had changed. Time could have stopped for all she cared and she would still bloody be here. She hated the house. She hated everything. Life wasn't worth living like this. The days were never ending and every single thing she done now was becoming mundane and tedious. Nothing was special or different. It was the same bloody thing, every bloody day.

When she had been at school all she had wanted was to have endless amounts of free time, but now she had it, she realized that there was a limit on how much she wanted. This was not what she had envisioned when she had dreamed about what it would be like.

"Fuck!" Violet cursed as she dropped the glass that she had been holding in her hands and it crashed to the ground and shattered over the hard wooden floorboards.

Her feet were bare and an unseen shard of glass entered her foot as she tried to step away invoking another profanity to leave her mouth. Taking careful attention not to step on any more astray remains, she stepped away from the debris and sat down on the floor to inspect her now bleeding foot. With it hitched up on her crossed leg, she tried to bring it closer to her face for inspection.

The glass was sticking out of her foot and luckily was large enough to be pulled out easily. A drop of blood trickled down the skin of her foot once the shard was out and she watched mesmerized as it trickled down her skin leaving a rich blood colour in its trail. The droplet continued downward and then gracefully dripped onto the floorboards. Her eyes blinked once, twice, and as if coming out from hypnotism she snapped back to reality and wiped the blood away with the hem of her dress. The dress was dirty anyway, what would a small amount of blood do?

The rich colour faded into the green fabric of her dress and she sighed in frustration when she saw smaller pieces of glass embedded deeper into her foot. Her nails dug like a pair of tweezers into her skin as she tried to pinch the shards out, but they were too deep and she wasn't in the easiest of positions to precisely pick it out.

Violet gave up with another huff of irritation and ignored the small stabbing pain she felt when she placed her foot back onto the floor.

Now, on her hands and knees, she gather the scattered pieces the best she could before sweeping them into the bottom of her dress like a bunch of berries. The glass shone from the bedroom light she had had to switch on due to the dull, grey of the rainy sky outside, and she watched for a second while they sparkled in the florescent lighting.

She grasped a particular large chunk of the glass and rolled it over in her hand feeling the smoothness of the surface and then the rough and jagged tip. Her finger came down gently on the tip of the shard and slowly added pressure to test the sharpness. When the pressure got too much, a small gasp left her mouth as it pierced her skin leaving a prick of blood in its place.

Her mind wandered to when she had cut and she wondered why she had never of thought of using glass before. It was such a sharp object and guessed it could cut easily through her skin if she applied the right amount of pressure. She vaguely wandered what it would feel like to feel the glass against her skin and her fingers itched when the familiar sensation, which she hadn't felt for ages, began. She hadn't cut in a long time, ever since Tate had made her swear she would never do it again, but things were different now, and her rebellious side grinned with mischief as her eyes bore down at the glass grasped in her grip.

The first cut she made on her wrist was small and light, only causing a minor amount of blood to rise to the top. She pressed harder the second time round and grinned when then the familiar rich, red colour returned. She gritted her teeth as she forcefully pressed harder on the glass and it started to cut her skin deeper and the blood started to gush out.

A cold hand suddenly wrapped around the hand which was applying the pressure to the cut and lifted it away forcefully causing the shard to fall from her hand and clatter onto the flooring.

"What are you doing?" His voice was calm behind her. It sounded as monotone as if he had just asked a simple question instead of having caught her whilst cutting.

It surprised her at first for she thought he would be mad and her heart accelerated, her eyes stayed downcast on the three cuts she had left indented into her skin, still producing blood.

"Not much," she answered just as casually. She peered up to him, a looming shadow of his figure casting over her body. He hadn't sounded angry, but he sure looked it. "What are you doing here?"

His angry stare flickered away briefly, another emotion clearing his fury, but then he concealed it again and replaced it with the same angry look he had been wearing before.

"I thought I told you to go away? Tate, go aw-"

"Don't!" His hand shot out to cover her mouth, preventing her words to form properly and ending her sentence with a mumble of incoherent words.

She shoved her elbow back into his stomach roughly, and he fell away winded.

"Get off me!" She yelled at his figure sprawled across the floor.

He looked up at her, surprise in his eyes. She slid back along the floor away from him, her back now facing the wall so she could see him clearly.

"Careful!" He scolded her when she scraped her leg across the pieces of glass which she was still yet to put in the bin.

The glass that had been in her lap was now in a pile on the floor where she had been sat.

They stared at each other. Both waiting for the other to move first.

"I thought you had stopped cutting?"

Her shoulders shrugged and she broke eye contact.

"I thought I told you to stop?"

"You can't tell me what to do Tate."

"You promised me."

"You'll get over it."

Her hostile tone made him flinch backwards and he watched her while she screwed her hand up into her fist and more blood rose to the surface of her cuts.

"Don't," he scolded her again and moved forward to stop her from harming herself.

"Do not touch me," She commanded when he moved to help.

"Violet, I need to help.'

"No, you don't. I don't need your help."

"Vi-"

"What, so it's alright for you to go taking drugs, but I can't do this?" She held up her wrist to exaggerate her point and he grimaced when he saw the blood running down her arm. His fingers itched to help her, but he obeyed her wish and stayed put.

"I'm not going to argue about this again," he said calmly.

"Fine." Her arms crossed like a stubborn child and her head turned away from him to stare out of the window, which was still getting pelted by the rain.

The sound of the rain against the window was nice and soothing, and had Tate not have been there, she would have laid on the bed and closed her eyes, but with him in the room, she didn't feel comfortable enough to close her eyes. She didn't trust him enough.

She knew it would be easy enough to tell him to go away and he would be gone without any choice, but she suddenly realized that she wanted him to be there. She craved the company of someone her own age and liked the feeling of having someone else in the room with her. In all honestly she had missed him, but never would she admit that aloud to him.

Tate stared at her face as she tried her best to ignore him and appear as unaffected as possible. It was amusing and irritating to him how hard she tried to hate him when clearly she didn't. She still pushed him away when they both knew she wanted the opposite. It was clear in her eyes when she stared at him. It had been clear the instant he met her gaze a couple of minutes ago and noticed the way her eyes had lit up for an instance when she saw him looking down at her.

His hope had risen with that look and he was happy that he decided, after all this time, to come up and see her. It was lucky he had when he did. He hated her cutting. It was a bit of a hypocritical thing for him to say, he knew that, but she had lovely skin and he hated to see her ruin it with scars the way she did. The cuts she had created today would eventually fade due to the way her body repaired itself now she was dead, so that helped calm his annoyance, but there were still the remains of scars from previous times she had cut before she had died. They would never go. They would constantly be on her skin. And the one thing he didn't understand was why she wanted to cause herself more pain? Surely, it didn't help her? Did it?

His lips twitched and he wanted to say something, but he thought twice and stayed quiet...

An hour passed and they were still in silence in her room. Violet was now sitting on her bed, reading, while Tate sat on the floor mutating between watching her face, and the cute little expressions she made as she read the book, and staring at the window and the little droplets that cascaded down through the others until it reach the bottom and sprayed out into a massive long line. He was happy enough to just sit with her. That's all he asked for. For now...

…

Tate scrutinized Violet as serious concentration lines etched their way into her forehead while she frowned as she read, and every so often her lip would upturn slightly as she read something to her amusement. It was cute and he was happy just watching her.

Another half hour came and went.

Violet was laid backwards on the bed. Her head positioned comfortably amongst her pillows, her hair sprawled out behind her. From this angle it was hard for Tate to watch her and he moved silently to a standing position and stretched his arms above his head before moving towards the bed. He had been getting a numb bum anyway and it felt good to stand instead of sitting on the hard, cold floorboards.

Violet's eyes were closed. Her breathing was soft and even, and the book she had been reading was laid flat down on her stomach, still open on the page she had last been reading. Her lips were the perfect shade of pinky red, and the way they pouted slightly made him want to lay his own against hers and steal away a kiss. Of course, he didn't, and remained standing and staring.

"Are you going to watch me all day or actually going to join me, stalker?"

Tate jumped at her voice and gave a weary, sheepish smile. "Ugh, sorry. Join you? You mean... on the bed?"

One eye opened to look at him. "Where else?" She demanded and he smiled sheepishly again.

Her eyes went back to being closed and he slowly lowered his weight down onto the bed with her.

Tate laid rock solid, frigid on his back. He stared upwards at the white painted ceiling and listened to his rapidly beating heart. Oh, how he had missed her. She was laid on the left hand side and he on the right, their bodies almost touching, mere centimetres apart. He could feel her body heat from where he laid, and had he wanted to, he could touch his own skin against hers. Hand to hand.

Violet's breathing was quiet and gentle, each breath a soft "whoosh" of air as it left her nose. Tate listened to it and matched his own with hers until they fell into a comfortable pattern, which made his eyes droop.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Violet asked softly, not bothering to open her eyes.

Tate turned his head to look at her. "What is?"

"The rain." Her eyes opened and she smiled, a genuine smile that caused his heart to melt.

"Yes," he agreed smiling back, but her eyes were already closed again.

"Sometimes, I just like to lie back and clear my mind while it hits against the window. There's just something about that sound that feels so...so..." She searched for the right word.

"Soothing?"

"Yeah...soothing. It's like the voice of your parents when they told you a bedtime story or the hum of your favourite lullaby that got played to you when you were younger. Even though it's cold and wild out there, you feel warm and safe inside. It's like there is a new freshness in the air that helps cleanse your problems away."

Tate smiled to himself at her analogy. Her understood exactly what she meant. "I agree."

She didn't say anymore and a ghost of a smile was on her lips when he looked back over at her.

"Vi?" He inquired gently.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. For everything, truly."

"Tate don't. Not now."

"No, please just let me finish. You said that it feels like a freshness is in the air and I want to get this out so I can try and start new with you."

"Tate, I'm not ready to hear it yet."

"Vi-"

"No. Don't ruin this moment with your excuses. Just don't." Her words were harsh and when she saw Tate's hurt expression she added a soft, "please."

He nodded once and remained silent.

"We can get to all that another day," she said after a couple more seconds. "I am too tired to argue now. Just enjoy the rain while it lasts."

Tate sighed softly knowing fully well that she hadn't forgiven him, no matter how much he wanted to think that she was starting to forgive him, he knew she had a lot more things to say.

He gave up fighting with himself for the day and closed his eyes to match her shut eyelids. And together, side by side, they both gave into their frazzled emotions and let sleep overcome their weary and tired bodies.

Anyone want to read on?