...

Kyle got to the outer front doors at the same time Ben and Violet did. They looked at each other through the glass.

"Why does he have a gun?" Violet whispered without looking away from Kyle.

"I don't know," Ben murmured in a similar fashion.

He lifted a hand slowly to wave at the teen behind the glass. Then he reached for the door handle. When Kyle didn't do anything, Ben pulled the door open, slow and smooth.

"Hey, Kyle," he said, holding the door open. He'd made it a point to learn all of the victims' names and what they looked like, particularly the ones who kept showing up at his house.

"What do you want?" said Kyle. He shoved his foot beside the door to keep it propped open without having to free a hand.

"Is Tate here?" asked Violet.

Kyle frowned at her. "Yeah."

She shifted her weight and glanced at her dad. "Where is he?" she said to Kyle.

Ben tried to feel around for his patient but the school was still too big, too foreign, too... much of a presence. He blinked a couple of times when he realized he could feel it. He could feel the school just like he could feel the house. The shadows. They were spongy here, the way they were when he wore the Rubber Man suit at home.

"He's someplace where he can't hurt anybody."

"He wasn't going to hurt anyone," Violet objected. "He was coming to apologize."

Kyle tried to laugh but all that came out was a short, sharp sound that had the flavor of a curse word. "That's why he brought this with him?" he said, lifting the shotgun. "And the one in here." He tugged the strap of the duffle bag. "Because apologies sound so much better coming out of the barrel of a gun."

Violet's brows pinched together. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No. He wanted to make things right." He seemed so sincere when she'd spoken with him. She couldn't believe he would want to come to Westfield after all these years just to do something he could have done dozens of times over.

"Is that why his shrink's fucking my girlfriend?" the guy in the letterman jacket demanded. "Because you all want to make everything sooo much better?"

Violet's eyes widened. Then she stared at her dad.

Ben looked pained. "Oh, God," he groaned. "I didn't know. I didn't know she was your girlfriend."

"Dad?" Violet said, sounding hurt and small even to her own ears. Anger quickly surged over the new injury: Anger for her betrayed mother, anger for herself, even anger for Kyle. "Jesus-fucking-christ, dad!"

"I'm sorry, honey," Ben said to her, feeling the moment spiral out of control. "Kyle, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know-"

"Yeah, you are sorry! You're a sorry piece of shit! She's seventeen!" Kyle yelled, gripping the shotgun tightly. He wanted badly to shoot the shrink. "You're an old man! What the hell!?"

Ben bristled under the apologetic surface. He forced the reaction back, smothered it under the knowledge that he was in the wrong. The effort allowed Violet a chance to speak first.

"My dad has serious issues keeping his dick in his pants," she said, ignoring the look her father gave her. "He even goes after old ladies."

"Violet!" Ben objected.

She looked at him then and he saw a strange expression, one he'd never seen in her eyes before. Ice cold.

"I don't care about his issues!" Kyle said. "He fucked my girlfriend!"

"I'm sorry-" Ben started.

But Kyle didn't want to hear it. "Some fucking shrink! You're a child molester!"

"She's not a child!" said Ben. He wasn't going to let some whelp in a football jacket lob such a personal insult at him. "She's forty!"

Kyle looked stung, then hurt. Then he was mad again. He lifted the gun and pointed it at Ben. "You wanna die?!"

"Get out of here, dad," Violet said. "Go home!"

The man looked from the football player to his daughter. He was getting only hostility from both angles. He thought he could talk Kyle down if he really wanted to but thought it might be better for all three of them if he went his own way. Ben knew when to press and when to retreat. He backed up a few steps then without another word he turned and started across the parking lot.

Violet watched him go, folding her arms loosely around her middle. Then she looked at Kyle, half expecting to see him aiming the gun at either one of them. But he wasn't. The gun was hanging from one hand loosely. He looked close to dropping it. His other hand was over his face, covering his eyes.

He was crying.

Violet stared. She didn't know what to do at first. It was weird to her when boys cried. There was a time when she had thought that was something they only did in the shower. She'd gotten used to it from Tate. But he was, in her mind, a huge exception to the rule.

"Hey," she said in a gentle tone. It was the same one she'd used on Tate the first time she saw him cry. "Don't let my dad's shit get to you. Whatever happened with him and your girlfriend... He won't be messing with you again. Believe me." She intended to personally make sure that was true. "He's already got a shit-storm at home with my mom and some other bitch. He's a fucking pervert but he won't steal your girlfriend. Most of the year he can't even leave the house."

Kyle wiped his face and looked at her funny. "Why not?"

She arched her brows at him and lowered her chin. "Because... he's dead. He can only leave the house close to Halloween."

He blinked a few times and looked past her but Ben was already gone. "Shit. I didn't know."

She tipped her head, long hair falling over her shoulder as she considered him. "You know I'm dead too, right?"

The jock looked at her with open surprise that answered her before his words did. "Oh. No. I guess not." A faint look of concern crossed his face. "Did Tate kill you too?"

She shook her head. "I won the Darwin award." She pressed her lips together at the blank reaction he gave her. "I killed myself. Accidentally OD'd on some pills." Not quite the truth but it would do.

"Why?"

Violet looked at him funny. "It was an accident." That was a lie but she really didn't want to discuss her suicide with him. Or anyone.

"Why'd you take so many?"

She stared at him. "Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "Just seems weird."

"What's so weird about it?" It wasn't the first time she'd been called weird. She wouldn't normally be bothered by it. But in relation to her death, she was.

"I don't know," he shrugged again. "Just sounds like something somebody'd do if they wanted to die. And I can't imagine why you'd want to."

She squinted at him. "That's just because you don't know me. Or my life. Think about it. Tate's my boyfriend and that," she tipped her head toward the parking lot to indicate Ben. "Is my dad."

Kyle thought about and got a really peculiar look on his face. "I... guess I see what you mean." He frowned. Then he shook his head. "No. I don't. I'd give anything to be alive. Even if I was stuck with people like that."

She laughed dryly. "You're only saying that because you're not."

He gave a short laugh of his own and shifted the gun in his hands, still holding it casually. Almost awkwardly. She suspected he didn't use one often, though he seemed to know how to hold it.

"I live with a bunch of dead high schoolers, most of them guys, with one lone teacher to keep the peace," Kyle said. "That's not exactly a piece of cake."

Violet's lips twitched in a small smile. "Must suck to be the teacher."

Kyle smiled a little too. "Mr. Cannavo's cool. He tries."

"Wasn't he the choir teacher?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. He keeps trying to get us to form an acapella group."

The thought made Violet smile for real. "Do you ever humor him?"

Kyle grinned, blushing self-consciously. "Maybe around Christmas."

Then there was a weird, awkward moment where they both realized they were acting just like normal teens in spite of everything and they fell silent for an equally awkward stretch.

"Can I see Tate?" Violet asked finally. "Please?"

Any trace of humor or camaraderie drained from the jock's expression. "Why?"

"I just want to help sort shit out," she said honestly. "I know you guys here at Westfield... You've been wanting answers and I... I think maybe I can help you get them." She paused and offered another small, dry smile. "I speak Tate fluently."

He scratched his cheek as he considered. "Yeah. Okay. But don't try anything funny."

She lifted her hands in a defenseless pose for just an instant. "I'm just here to help."

He let her into the school then. They walked together in silence. Violet took in her surroundings as she passed through the halls. It had been years since she'd been there yet it still seemed so familiar. It was strange seeing it without people though. Or daylight. Or any light. The gloom was oppressive. Smothering.

They entered the gym and Kyle led the way to the weight room. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door.

(Author's Note: I've posted Chapter 9.5: Taint, which describes what happened right before Kyle and Violet got to the gym. You can find it in my Profile. Read with caution.)

"You guys!" he exclaimed. Shock turned to horror turned to outrage. "What the fuck?!"

Violet crowded in behind him but he didn't want her to see. He gave her shoulder push. It was a gentle touch; it didn't hurt her or even knock her off balance but it sent her back several feet just like she was on wheels.

Kyle charged in and yelling followed. Violet ran back to the door and was nearly run down by a guy who barely glanced her way before taking off across the gym, sneakers squeaking as he ran. More yelling and some cursing came from the room and two more guys ran out, one laughing hysterically. Seriously concerned now, Violet tried to enter the room a third time and was nearly run over by Kyle. He caught her upper arms and moved her to the side.

"Don't go in there," he warned. "Just. Wait here."

He took off after the other guys then. Of course she couldn't just stand there. She had to know what was going on. So she went in. She didn't get far. The sheer magnitude of the horror was enough to stop her in her tracks. It was a nightmare. Tate was face-down on one of the weight benches. They'd bound his arms and legs to it with duct tape. His pants were down around his knees and there was a bloody mop handle on the floor nearby. There was a lot of blood beneath the weight bench and all over Tate.

Worse for him, he was conscious when Violet entered the room. Tate saw her and felt his whole world implode. He let his head hit the padded bench and started to cry the most heart-wrenching cry of his existence. Why did it have to be her? She was the very last person he'd want to find him in such a state.

"Oh, my God! Tate!" Violet exclaimed, bursting into tears too.

She started toward him then realized she needed something to cut the tape with. She cast about frantically but she didn't see anything remotely helpful.

"Hold on!" she said. "I'm going to get something to cut you free!"

She left the room and pulled the door shut behind her. As fast as she could, she went to the gym teacher's office. It was hard to see through the tears and panic. She tried quick-stepping and nearly ran right into a wall. She wasn't as familiar with the dimensions of the school as she was with the house so she had to go the mortal route. The office door was locked but she didn't let that stop her. A fire extinguisher made a perfect battering ram. She used it to smash the small window in the door then reached in, unlocked it and let herself in. She rifled around till she found a pair of scissors then ran all the way back to the weight room.

When she got back, Tate was gone.

...

Kyle caught up to his friends down the hall, near the stairwell. Jason leaned against the wall, laughing uproariously.

"What the fuck was that?!" Kyle demanded.

The black guy stopped laughing. "It's called revenge, Kyle."

"That-" Kyle shook his head. "That wasn't revenge! That was torture!"

Jason shrugged. "Potato, potahto. He got what he deserved."

Luke folded his arms. Josh looked down the hall. Kyle looked around at them like he was seeing them for the first time. He shook his head slowly, having a real hard time pairing his pals with what he just saw back in the weight room.

"That's just... fucked up," he said, shaking his head again.

"Fuck you, Kyle," said Luke. He didn't like being judged. "He's the reason we're stuck here. Or did you forget that?"

"That doesn't mean you go all fucking Pulp Fiction on him!"

"You blew his brains out!" said Jason. "You think that makes you better than us?"

"I didn't do anything," Josh put in, raising his hand.

Luke glared at him. "Shut up, dickweed! You watched!"

Josh shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you're right," Kyle said to him, disgust filtering into the words. "You didn't do anything. You just stood by and let it happen."

Josh glowered. "Hey. It's not my job to tell these guys what to do."

"Why're you sticking up for that asshole anyway?" said Jason. "He's a fucking mass murderer! Did you miss that? Did that bit of information fall out the back of your head with your brains? He's a twisted piece of cracka shit that deserves to suffer a lot more for what he did to us!"

Kyle scowled. He felt like something was dying inside him. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

Jason shoved him then, suddenly angry. "Eat shit, Kyle! Who're you to tell me how I get to treat the bitch that killed me?"

Kyle's jaw set and his grip tightened on the shotgun he was still carrying. "Because he killed you, you're gonna be a sick, twisted fuck now? Is that how this works?"

"You went and killed that therapist," Jason volleyed. "And he just fucked your girl."

"I didn't kill him," Kyle said tightly. "I didn't even hurt him. I just told him to leave. And he did."

Jason glared at him. Kyle stared back. Finally he shook his head and looked disappointed. He didn't say anything else. He just turned and started back toward the gym.

"You're just like us, you pretentious cock-sucker!" Jason called after him.

Kyle ignored him and kept going.

...

Author's Note:

When I was trying to figure out what the jocks' idea of revenge on their killer would be, I looked to history. I discovered that, over the past 20 years, high school and college boys have been arrested the most due to boy-on-boy anal intrusion crimes - more than any other crime by a wide margin. In one particular school, there were 10 such crimes over a period of 3 years that made the news. Some of the incidents at other schools were relatively mild: Hazings involving carrying food in said area across a sports field (the individual would have to eat it if they dropped it) but most were far more violent, even if the target was a friend who was just being inducted into a team or fraternity. Crimes against enemies/strangers were usually the most violent, leading to hospitalization and sometimes death.

Pulp Fiction is a Quentin Tarantino film that happened to come out October 1994 - the same year Tate shot up Westfield. It has a disturbing scene involving two hillbillies, two other men, and a guy in a black rubber suit very much like Rubber Man called the Gimp.

Mr. Cannavo is Mr. Schuester in Glee, another show by the folks who did AHS. I can't help imagining Mr. Schu as a ghost, pressuring the dead kids into song and dance numbers to keep them occupied. Incidentally, the names of the other non-Dead Breakfast Club victims are all folks who worked on AHS season 1 - a joke of the creators' design.

The scene where Kyle charges into the weight room was already designed before Coven started but I couldn't resist tweaking the conversation to reflect the scene in Season 3 where Kyle charges in to rescue Madison. It was just too easy to overlap the two.

Next chapter: We'll be finishing up our trip to Westfield. How will it all pan out? You'll have to tune in next time to find out.