Title: We Were Born To Die
Raiting: M
Disclaimer: 18+ This story depicts descriptive sexual acts and may contain adult content not suitable for most adults.
A/N: To ensure the progression of this story and to simplify and condense such long chapters I've gone back and reformated my story. I would like to apologize for the massive spam of alerts on my part for the reboot of this story. To clear any confusion what was previously "Shoot and Ladders" Chapter 14 is now Chapter 45 & 46. Any updates after that will be the continual of the tale of Tate and Nira. (Reviews Are Always Appreciated)
The last seven months she spent raising her sisters and spending time with Tate flew by. The tension between her mother and father had reached it's breaking point. Tate had warned her of his mother's constant hold on Larry and her growing need to get back into the house. To a point both Tate and Nira lived in ignorant bliss, oblivious to the outside world around them. In the chaotic day to day living they had created for themselves no one day was ever the same.
When they fought, they fought with the passion and furry of a thousand poets. She would slap him across the face, in return he would slam her against the wall, yelling empty threats at her. She would laugh, spitting in his face, throwing a low blow to escape the tight grasp of his hand wrapped around her throat, cutting of the oxygen to her brain.
When they were happy, their laughter would echo and fill the ears of passing on lookers, curious as to what the secret joke was between the two. School was a turbulent ride for the two, barley a day went by that when they did attended school they both didn't get into a physical altercation, usually brought on by one standing in defense of the other.
Tate was amazing to watch destroy the unexpected bully. Her body would shudder each time his fist made impact, her heart flutter with each painful grunt from his victim. Tate would fight the urge to jump in and fight Nira's battles for her.
He felt his blood rush when whoever she was fighting would sneak in a shot. But the pain inflicted served to excite her more, the adrenaline rushing, loosing herself to the darkness of the blackout. Most times she had a good recollection of what happened, other times she would awake, stomping, punching the lifeless form of her assailant or being dragged away by Tate.
Constance was becoming aware of the obsessive, codependent nature the relationship between the two had taken. Tate who spent most of his time hidden in his room, playing with is brother and sister, was now never around. A ghost who made an appearance in the shadows every now and then. Addie and Beauregard were getting the raw end of the stick.
The more angered Tate's behavior made Constance, the more she took it out on the ones not lucky enough to run away. Tate had brought over Nira when he was sure his mother was out with one of her many play toys. Nira's blood turned ice cold when she saw the small appearance of a healing bruise on the cheek of Addie.
Tate was by his sister's side in a heartbeat, examining the bruise. Pulling his sister into a tight hug. Nira held her breath as she saw the tears form in Tate's eyes, she fought back the ping of jealousy that was attacking her subconscious. She didn't like that anyone but herself could make Tate feel like that.
"Am I interrupting something?" The long southern drawl filled the room.
Nira watched as Tate shook, she couldn't tell if it was from rage or fear. How could this woman have a hold over her dark prince? She watched as Constance stood in the door way, cigarette in hand, a sway to her that everyone knew immediately she had been drinking.
"Addie, my beautiful little monster. You need to be more careful when playing." The lie left her lips with expertise, she watched as her children slumped in acceptance of what she said.
Nira was disgusted by the lack of back bone Tate had in the presence of his mother. She left brushing past Constance, running home never looking back at the broken down boy who wasn't "her" Tate.
Constance began to laugh a disturbed maniacal laugh. "Well my precious son, if I don't get Larry to send her away you'll do a fine job scaring her away."
Tate clenched his fists, heading towards the door to go after his Nira. The slap echoed through the house, Tate stood their shocked, speechless, unable to move. He was scared like a traumatized child, his mind took him back to being locked in the closet with mirrors, the sound of his mother screaming and yelling at him. Listing helplessly as he heard his sister screaming.
"Now listen to me Tate, this thing you have going on with that girl is going to end. It's about time you come to accept it. Larry will be telling that doormat of a wife he wants her gone tonight. She will take your precious Nira back to Ohio."
Nira sat in Angie and Margaret's room, watching as they peacefully slept. She wanted to take them away from this nightmare. Each passing day she felt she failed them more and more, she was a disgrace, a pathetic weak mongoloid. She never felt so much pain brewing inside of her, she was helpless to fight against the waves of agony that crashed through her as she watched the girls sleep.
They had an innocence she longed for and craved. She sighed in defeat when she felt Tate approach the house, she knew he would come here looking for her, so she hesitantly stood, approaching them to leave feather light kisses on their foreheads, looking over the girls one last time before she made her descent down to the basement.