Westfield High School April 20th, 1994 11:00am

"Okay class let's open Of Mice and Men to chapter three. Chloe, you start reading," my young, and nerdy, teacher mutters from the front of the room so low that I can barely hear him, being that I'm in the middle of the classroom.

I begin to doodle as the annoying cheerleader starts to yell the words of the book I enjoy but everyone else seems to hate. I've read this classic at least ten times so there's no need for me to pay attention, so I sketch my usual drawing: a skeleton and a girl who is floating with her arms reaching towards the boney creature.

"Violet?" I hear Kevin, the boy who has had a crush on me since the first grade, murmur. I instantly look up and see him towering over me and notice the entire class has left. "We're headed to the library. Remember?" he says while alternating between leaning on his heel and planting his foot back on the ground.

"Right," I breathe out a long sigh. Our class is working on a research paper and today we have the privilege to work in the library with our wonderful librarian. We walk to the media center side-by-side but don't talk much. Kevin tries to make conversation but I'm very out of it today. Something is off at Westfield High, I just know it. "Violet?" He huffs. I look up from my fumbling fingers and into his eyes. He really is attractive with his dark hazel orbs and long brown hair that sits at his shoulders. He's wearing a black leather jacket, which makes him all more appealing. Over the years he has become attractive, but also quite. "Will you go to prom with me?" I immediately inhale sharply. I hadn't planned on going and didn't expect Kevin to either. "I've been wanting to ask you but haven't had the courage until now. Violet…I like you," he gulps after finish his sentence.

I stand facing him in disbelief. I wouldn't mind going on a date with him, but prom? I hate this school and absolutely do not want to see any of my fellow students when I don't have to. Besides, the dance is in a month and most dresses are gone. Luckily, before I can answer our teacher opens the library door and yells for us down the hall. "Harmon, Gedman. Let's go!" I quickly speed walk down to the entrance leaving Kevin behind, but promise myself I will get back to him after class but first I need to find a way to tell him no politely.

While logging onto the Mac computer I hear Chloe and her varsity football boyfriend, Kyle, chatting about sex. I roll my eyes and sink into the chair as I pull up my half typed paper on modern society. I'm researching how young people, specifically high school students, are mostly useless. Well, that's my version but of course I have to make it sound presentable and not as mean, so the topic I've officially used is young peoples good impact, or lack there of, on society.

"What's your paper on?" a deep female voice blurts while motion to my screen. I look to find Stephanie, one of the girls I can actually stand, smirking and leaning on her seat.

"How high schoolers suck," I confess with a chuckle.

"Nice. Mine's on how cheerleading harms football games."

We both burst into laughter but quickly hush our selves. "I'm sure Chloe will love to read that," I comment and Stephanie nudges me and places her index finger over her lips.

"Bitches like her are the reason I wrote this."

"Ladies! You're not working much. You'll have to spilt immediately," Mr. Carmichael, the annoying librarian, demands and then points to me. "Go sit over there," he gestures to the corner table with no computer. I sigh loudly and roll my eyes.

"Violet!" Stephanie whisper-shouts. "Wait for me after class. I want to give you my number." I nod and lug my bag to the corner where the old table sits and don't even bother digging my English notebook. Instead I doodle in my sketchbook and listen to Rooster by Alice In Chains with my Walkman.

About ten minutes later I look around and realize our teacher is gone and Mr. Carmichael is busy debating the importance of the Dewey Decimal system with some nerd, so I sneak out. When I finally reach the 'fresh' air of the halls I light up a cigarette and pray no one else is lurking around. While in the girls' bathroom I smoke two more cancer-stick and finally decide to head back to my class.

On my way I hear glass-shattering screams but assume it's some girls making a scene over a broken nail so ignore them and shove my headphones over my ears. With the sound of Pearl Jam blaring through my head I don't realize my surroundings so it's not long before I bump into someone- specifically a tall, muscular man. I look up and the person is gone so I turn around and watch him run frantically towards the teacher's longue and shrug at his rudeness.

Eventually, I make my way back to the library and being mere feet from the doors a large hand on my shoulder stops me from entering. I instantly turn around and am met with a man wearing navy civil war soldier jacket and blonde tangled hair; however his appearance isn't the first thing I notice. His shotgun pointed inches from my chest is what catches my attention.

"T-Tate?" I choke while trying to suppress tears. How could he do this? We were friends in art class and I've only been nice to him!

"Who are you?" he grunts.

"Violet," I mutter while shaking and allowing hot tears to stream down my cheeks.

"Oh right," he says while scanning over me. "This will be easy. You want to die." I look up at him and realize he's extremely high.

"N-n-no I don't! Please I-I don't want to die. I-"

"I saw you drawing about death in art. You're reaching for it Violet. I'm going to give it to you," he insists while wobbling.

"N-no Tate. I don't. I'm scared. I...I don't know what'll happen," I confess. This is the first time I've ever admitted I'm afraid.

"It'll all be okay," Tate assures me.

I open my mouth to object but he grabs my arm and throws me in the closet. "Stay here," he demands before locking the door.

Fifteen minutes later the door opens and I pray it's the police but of course it's Tate, except this time he's covered in blood. He actually killed someone.

"Let's go!" he screams and grabs my bicep once again, leaving a fading yellow bruise.

As we exit the school I wonder why the police aren't here ready to shoot him and where the entire school is. Surely he couldn't have killed everyone in that amount of time. Instead of asking I keep my mouth shut to spare the gory details and go along with the psychopath. Tate shoves me into his new Honda Accord and then quickly hops in the front and speeds off. He constantly checks the rearview mirror but unfortunately the cops aren't on his trail. I peer out the window to keep my mind off the fact that he may torture me and kill me when we arrive at our destination. I'm not sure why he didn't just shoot me and end this madness but I'm hoping whatever happens next isn't worse.

For being high out of his mind Tate drives surprisingly well. I hear the click of a lighter and instantly turn my head to Tate who is sparking up a blunt. "Want some?" he asks while holding the intoxicating smoke in his lungs. I vigorously shake my head since I don't want to be vulnerable. Plus I've never smoked or even drank.

After five minutes of painful silence Tate croaks, "I know you cut yourself." I immediately lift my gaze from the ground and furrow my brows at him. How does he know and why does that matter right now? "I've seen the scars and cuts. They're deep. Why do you do it?" he slurs. I begin to formulate an answer until he slams on his brakes and swerves lanes, nearly missing the car in front of us. I just shrug my shoulders and pray he won't continue with this subject. "Tell me," he grits and speeds up.

I take a while to come up with an answer but finally have a reasonable one. "I...my parents. They don't care about me. My father cheats and my mom drinks to ignore it. They fight everyday and completely forget that I exist. No one really notices me at school- and when they do it's just to be friends during class. My only companion moved two years ago," I respond and lie back in the chair.

"You shouldn't do that," he blurts and then slams on his brakes again and curses under his breath.

Two hours of silence and frequent puffs of his marijuana later Tate pulls over to a rest stop and jumps out of his seat. Then he opens the door and ties my waist to the chair and hands together. "Take off and I'll shoot you and leave you for the wolves," he threatens before running to the bathroom. Ten minutes later he arrives with two full plastic bags and a sweatshirt. "Put this on," he mutters after freeing me from the restraints. I slip the large clothing on that says Nevada on it and assume we've entered the state although I missed the welcome sign.

Tate turns on the radio and plays the news station, and I assume he's checking if any word of the shooting is on. Fortunately for him there's a quick discussion but they haven't identified the criminal yet. Tate was barely recognizable at school until his shaggy hair was pushed out of the way to reveal his unique dark eyes and facial structure.

"We're going to Utah," Tate informs me before turning up the radio to block out my response. Instead of speaking I close my eyes and lie back to attempt to sleep but the loud noise from the window being open prevents me so I think about the life I left behind instead.

My parents will believe I'm dead, which will probably cause them to finally divorce. They were bad parents but the only ones I had, so I do love them and miss them much right now but since Tate plans to kill me eventually I'll never see them again. I now realize I should've tried harder with them instead of mopping in my self-pity.

The words 'Westfield High Masacare' drag me out of my thoughts to pay attention to what the woman is saying. "Some of the victims have been identified and the police have released their names. Amir Stanley, Kevin Gedman, Chloe Stapleton, Kyle Greenwell, and Stephanie Boggs were all found shot in the library. The other victims were shot several times and faces are too mutilated to be recognizable. We'll have the full update at ten and who the police suspect committed this mass murder."

As the reporter says the victim's names I feel chills run up my spine. Tate really did kill people today; I had a small amount of hope that he might have just injured some teachers and students but he actually took lives. I keep my eyes shut and face towards the window to hide my tears. Then it hits me- he killed Kevin! I was going to arrange a make up date with him, but now he's dead and I let him believe I didn't like him. My wrists burn and beg from attention from my metal friend but it's at home and Tate would never allow me the pleasure.

I repeat the list of dead students in my head and realize Stephanie was also announced. She was so sweet and just like me. We were both loners who found each other recently but Tate doesn't care. He didn't discriminate against his victims. To him, blood is blood and he needed some on his hands.

I ponder about Chloe and Kyle and actually feel sympathy because although they were annoying and often rude, it was just high school. They could've changed and become something important. Any of Tate's victims could've changed the world.

Last is Amir. I didn't know him well but he was easily the smartest student in our school, and probably more intelligent than most teachers. Tate took all their potential and brightness away when he pulled the trigger and now I'm stuck in a car with this psychopath.

"Violet!" Tate screams, thus ripping me from my silent memorial. "I've been calling your name for two minutes. Answer me when I speak to you," he growls.

"O-okay," I murmur while gripping the seat.

"Why are you so quiet?" He asks while looking at me.

I gulp and prepare an answer but can't think of a good one. "I... I don't know." I can't tell him the real reason, because he kidnapped me and is crazy, so I have to just keep him off the topic.

"No, there's a reason. Say it and I won't hurt you... too bad," he smirks. I shake my head and look back out the window. "I know what it is," he comments and places his rough hand on my thigh. "You knew them."

I instantly look over at Tate and see his once harsh expression is now soft and a half smile is spread across his face. Truthfully, I've always had a crush on Tate since he moved here last summer. His large house is a block from mine but I always saw him walking around with a cigarette between his lips. He was intriguing to say the least but anytime I would make conversation with him he'd cut it short and act as if he's busy so I eventually stopped trying.

So, when I discovered we had art together during the second semester I made it my mission to befriend him and surprisingly I did. We were the only people in that class who took it seriously and that's why we became partners. But alas it was only a friendship in class; anytime outside of the room he would return to ignoring my existence.

Avoiding his inference I ask a question. "Why didn't you want to be my friend?"

"I thought you were trying to play a joke on me," he grunts and grabs a joint. He's most likely been high since the moment he woke up.

"Wha- why would I do that?" I screech and immediately regret asking.

"Because Violet you're the perfect girl. You're just like me- but also different in your own ways. My first impression of you was that you're the most attractive woman I've ever seen and therefore you couldn't be interested in a relationship with me," he says while staring at the road.

I inhale sharply and process all he's said. He thinks, or thought, I'm beautiful? More importantly he thought I was like 'them' and going to play a cruel trick on him? "Why didn't you give me a chance?" I ask but it comes out like a whine.

"I don't know," he hisses.

I decide not to provoke him any longer and try to accept my fate- what ever it may be.

"Get up," Tate grumbles in my ear from the door. As I stand up he latches on to my bruised arm and leads us into a motel. "How much for a room?" Tate asks the lanky boy at the front desk.

"Fifty-nine dollars," he states while blankly staring at me.

"We'll take a room. And stop staring at my girl," Tate finishes his sentence with a muffled curse. The dark haired man hands Tate a key and glances over him and then at his hand attached to my arm.

Tate immediately drags us to the second floor where we're staying. When we open the door there's one large bed and a nightstand. There's also an en suite that Tate pulls me to. "Shower," he demands.

I nod my head and remove the sweater and when I tug it off my head I hope he's gone or at least turned around but he's staring at my body. "Can you close your eyes?" I plead but Tate only chuckles and shakes his head, so I take my long sleeve Nirvana t-shirt off, revealing my black bra, and tug my jeans down. My cheeks are burning and I'm sure my entire body has turned scarlet but I do as I'm told in fear of getting hurt. Once I'm only in my bra and underwear I walk towards the shower but Tate's grip stops me. "Take it all off," he commands.

I turn around to give him a pleading look but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm not going to buy you any more things so you don't want them to get wet," he explains. "I'll turn around. Let me know when the curtain is shut." I nod my head at the sudden kindness and gulp before unhooking my bra. I face the other way incase Tate is watching but when I slide into the shower I look back and he's actually turned towards the door.

"I'm in," I mumble before turning the knob, letting the steaming water hit my pale skin.

Ten minutes later I rinse the last of the motel's complimentary conditioner out of my hair and twist the lever to off. I peek from behind the curtain to see if Tate is in the bathroom and he is. "C-can I have a towel?" I mutter, which causes Tate to shoot his head up from his twiddling thumbs and straight at me. He nods his head and lets out an 'mhm' before walking to the rack and grabbing a towel. He strolls over and hands it to me so I quickly wrap it around my damp body while behind the curtain and then I step out without warning Tate, which earns a fast head whip form him.

Eventually I put on the sweater but decide to be pant -less since the top reaches my knees while and then decide it'd be best to sleep on the floor, but Tate doesn't agree. "Get on the bed," he orders. I hesitate but soon I crawl on the rather small mattress and lie as close to edge as possible, but Tate instead puts a chain around my neck and locks it to the bed. "Just in case," he smirks before spooning me.

I wake up to the sound of men bickering and when I open my eyes I realize I'm in the car and Tate is arguing with an older man. I wonder when he started driving but don't bother since this could be my chance to escape. I stare at the two men and figure Tate won't notice until I'm deep in the woods, so I slowly creek the door open and crawl. When I finally reach the edge of the guardrail and stand up to bolt but upon doing so I trip over a rock thus making a loud thud. I look to Tate praying he's to invested in the fight to notice but he whips his head to me and runs. I bolt and hope that I can lose him once I enter the abyss of trees. Unfortunately just as I'm about to cross over into the only hiding I can find I feel Tate grab my arm and yank me back. "What the fuck!" he growls before knocking me out.

I awake back in the car and tied to the chair, but we're still in parked on the side of the road, but I notice Tate standing on by the trunk. When he slides in I see his shirt is bloody and he has the shotgun in his hand. As we drive away I turn back to see the man from earlier lying on the floor in a pile of blood.

Why hasn't he killed me yet? This couldn't be a plan but a horrible impulsive idea. "Violet?"

"Ye-yeah?" I answer.

"I didn't give you a chance because I was ignorant. I never met someone like you and didn't know a person like you even existed. By the time I found out how great you are it was too late. I was already a dick. I figured I might as well keep the act up because I hate exposing my true self to others. I'm not an open person," he confesses while continually switching his gaze from the road to me.

I open my mouth to respond but stop. "You're so beautiful Violet," he coos while running his hand up my thigh. "I... I wish things were different," he sighs. "I want to be honest with you Violet. I don't know why I killed those people. When it happened... it felt like I was watching myself do it and I was begging it to stop. I needed it to stop, but the drugs and the voices wouldn't let me. B-but then when I realized it was you, I gained some control. I don't know what happened V-Violet, but that's why I dragged you with me. Since you've been here the voices aren't as loud," Tate admits.

I lie in the cloth chair and close my eyes. I want to help Tate but he could be lying to me so I stay. While looking his eyes I decide to tryst him but still keep a sight guard up. I don't know what believing him will and I don't know what that means to me. He needs my help but am I ready to give it to the man who murdered two of my friends and others? What if he has another episode?

Just as I'm collecting my thoughts we pull up to a large house in the middle of the woods and Tate slides his wandering hand to mine and squeezes it. "We're home."

. . .

When we park in the spacious garage Tate gently pulls me out of the car and unties the tight rope from my aching arms. When he notices the red rash on my wrists from the rough restraint he looks into my eyes and then kisses the scarlet marks that blend with the scars of my past. "I'm so sorry," he confesses.

"I-it's fine. Can you tell me why we're here?" I plead.

"I will. First, let's unpack and eat," Tate responds in a soft voice. I nod my head and walk to the trunk to help with the bags he brought.

"I'm sorry I didn't pack anything for you. I…I wasn't expecting anyone to come with me," he confesses. It's sort of a relief to know he didn't exactly plan my kidnapping but now I'm more nervous because he could just get rid of me whenever he pleases without much guilt. "Don't worry I'll get you some clothes and all you need tomorrow," he promises with a smile.

After he finishes putting his belongings away he walks to the kitchen and turns around to gesture me to follow. As I walk through the large home I notice that there's only one television and computer. As crazy as it sounds I don't want to leave. If I return home there won't be much to live for. After all my parents probably are signing divorce papers at the moment since I was the only thing stopping them.

"So what would you like? I can make pasta, steak, or salad," Tate asks while staring at my stocking covered thighs that are showing from my dress riding up.

"Um, whatever you're having," I murmur before tugging my dress down.

"Okay, well while I'm cooking would you like to order some clothes online? I have a PO box in town so I can have a friend pick it up," he shouts from the kitchen as I lie on the extremely soft couch. I mutter a yes but don't think Tate hears it, so I'm surprised when he walks over with his laptop five minutes later and wakes me from my rest. "Order whatever but don't do anything stupid Violet. I'm going to trust you," he growls before he walks back into the kitchen.

After dinner I still feel uneasy about being here with Tate not knowing his intentions so I decide to snoop while he's in the shower. Unfortunately for me I couldn't leave this home if I wanted to because the home only has one door that has three locks and code that only Tate knows. If I somehow I escape a loud alarm will ring and notify Tate, who will be extremely upset and have no mercy on me when he would discover me.

Little does Tate know, I have no desire of escaping and more of a need to know what's happening and why. As I assumed, he did not tell me everything after we ate the steak he prepared for us. Instead he swiftly cleaned up and darted to the bathroom before I could even process any of it.

So now I am looking through his drawers for a clue to his next step but only hit dead ends. As I'm rummaging through his large closet I find a small box tucked behind a duffle bag. However, my hopes of digging through its contents are immediately shot down when I notice the lock. I tuck the small container under my shirt and carefully tiptoe to the en suite to check if Tate is still showering. The beating of the water on the floor confirms my hopes so I quickly grab a knife from the kitchen and try to pyre the lock off.

Just as I think I've opened it, I feel a damp hand clutch my shoulder. "What are you doing?" the person, who I figure it Tate, asks.

I instantly spin around to face my captor. As Tate stares between me and the broken lock, I feel my palms become clammy and my heartbeat quicken. While focusing my gaze at his water droplet covered bare chest I search my mind for a believable explanation that doesn't give away my actual intentions. "I...I, uh, I was looking for something to do. Be-because I was bored and-"

"Violet," Tate interrupts me and trails his hand down to my bicep and the clenches it. "Don't lie to me," he hisses.

"Tate, I'm sorry. I just wanted to know-"

"You don't trust me?" he growls and tightens the grip on my arm.

"W-well, you did take me against my will and haven't told me anything," I murmur while keeping my eyes glued to the grey carpet.

"Let me show instead." I instantly look up from the floor and try to figure out what he means by that, but before I can ponder long enough Tate kisses my lips, which causes me to stumble backwards and inhale sharply.

However, I don't pull away. Instead I reciprocate and even run my hands through his curly blonde locks while moaning lightly.

A few moments later Tate pulls away, leaving an aching feeling on my lips, but to my surprise he shoves me onto the large mattress and quickly attaches his soft mouth onto mine once again. This time he instantly pokes his tongue at my bottom lip, begging for entrance. I gladly allow the nerve filled muscle to connect with mine, which sends tingles straight down to my core.

Tate must notice my eagerness because he swiftly forces his knee between my thighs and crawls over me without ever detaching our lips. I continue to groan but this time it's loud enough for Tate to hear. Instead of talking things slow, like I thought Tate had planned, I feel my tights rip and a cold hand touch my core through my underwear.

At first I am hesitant because he could be doing this to force me into a vulnerable state but after a minute of resisting I no longer have strength.

When I finally spread my legs Tate quickly yanks down the torn stocking and tosses them behind him. With my eyes open I watch as Tate slowly inches his lips down my neck and ultimately to my collarbone.

Then Tate slides my cardigan and dress strap off my shoulder and places light kisses. As I feel my stomach flip from joy I remember what he did to our classmates- innocent people, and suddenly I'm not in the mood. Apparently Tate can tell because he looks up from above my breast and into my eyes. "What's wrong Violet? Don't you want me?" he asks in a squeaky voice. I notice his eyes have become glassy and his lips are shaped into a frown.

"I...I do. But you killed those students! They were good people!" I reply while scooting back to the headboard.

"Violet," Tate mutters while crawling towards me. "I told you I didn't know what I was doing. Please forgive me. Please," he begs.

I take a deep breath and contemplate my options. What Tate did was horrible and almost unforgivable, but since it seems we'll be together for quiet some time I'll have to forget all he's done. Plus, Tate is extremely attractive. "O-okay," I mumble, and it only takes Tate half a second to connect his lips back to mine.

This time he's quicker with his movements, I suppose so I don't change my mind once again.

As mouth is sucking on my bottom lip and lightly poking his tongue at mine, I feel his calloused hand travel up my thigh. "Violet," Tate whispers as he pulls away to peel my grey cardigan off my body and then stares at the yellow sundress loosely hanging on my body. Then, before I can react, Tate slides the straps off and then yanks the dress off; thus leaving me only in my undergarments, which instantly causes me to blush all over. "You don't have to be shy. You are beautiful," he assures me as he fingertips move down my collarbone to the tops of my breast.

Once he pulls my breasts out of the cups I throw my head back as he takes one of my nipples between his fingers and pinches. I suppress moans and bite my bottom lip as he continues to rub the erect nub, but finally let out my pleasure when his warm, wet mouth sucks my nipple in. "Tate," I mumble barely loud enough for him to hear. I continue to arch my back slightly at his touch until he kisses down my abdomen. By then I my hips are up in the air and my middle is begging for his touch.

"So eager," he smirks before placing his plump lips on my thong. "Violet, you're soaked," he says with a nose laugh. I instantly shy away and try to retract my body but Tate's grip doesn't allow it.

As he bites my inner thigh and licks my seeping juices, I feel his growing bulge press against my calf and a ripple run through my veins at the thought of him inside me.

However, the cool breeze hitting my damp core rips me from those images. "Mmm," Tate moans as he slowly slides one thick finger from the bottom to the top of my slit. I watch as he brings the glistening finger to his mouth and pops it in to suck it. "You taste...heavenly," he grunts before swiftly forcing his head between my legs and places hard licks on my throbbing clit.

"Oh Tate," I utter as he inserts a large finger inside me, and I shut my eyes to feel everything that's being done. Tate pumps his finger with much force until he adds another. With the two fingers filling me up, he thrusts slowly, adjusting to my tight walls. "You're a virgin aren't you?" he huffs.

"Yes," I admit between breaths.

"As am I," Tate growls and then returns to pleasuring me.

Unable to wait any longer, I tug on Tate's collar and beg him to come up to me. Luckily, he complies and attaches his shiny lips to mine and massages them. While our lips are lightly attacking one another's I trail my hand to his crotch and gently massage his growing erection.

I feel the vibrations of his moan enter my mouth, and I instantly become more turned on- so much that I couldn't resist the urge to separate our lips and focus on removing the suddenly tight pants on Tate. As I peel down his jeans I look up into his obsidian eyes that are currently filled with lust. I slowly slide down his Hanes boxers, which allow his fully erect cock to spring out. "You like what you see?" Tate grunts as I take his length into my small hand and quickly move my hands up and down his veiny length.

"Yes," I breathe out. He smirks but quickly changes his reaction when I shove his member into my mouth. As I bob my head up and down on his erection he grunts and moans while tugging on my hair.

A few minutes later Tate pulls my hair, causing me to lose my grip on his member. "I'm about to cum. I want to do that inside of you," he confesses and then throws me on my back. "Let's lose this together." I feel a shiver down my back as his hot breath dances on my ear.

Just before he pushes himself inside me, Tate lifts his t-shirt over his head to reveal his defined abdomen. Although he didn't have a 'six-pack', one could definitely notice he works out and spot small lines that are forming. I trace my finger around his chest and down to his waist. Finally, he pulls off my bra, leaving us both naked.

With his first thrust I feel the limits of my middle being pushed and blood trickle down my leg. For a few moments the pain is intense and almost unbearable, but finally I adjust to his thickness and begin to feel the insane pleasure everyone speaks of. As if my body couldn't be any more pleased, Tate slides his hand to my middle and rubs circles around my slippery nub.

"Fuck Violet," Tate grunts between kisses, "you're so damn tight!"

I smile and grab his hair to force him back to my aching lips. With every pump of his large cock I claw at his back and know his back is covered in scratches and cherry marks.

Within minutes, time slows down and the fire that has been pooling in my lower abdomen finally begins to leak but then floods out all at once. The contraction of my walls sends me into loud eruptions of begging and screaming 'Tate'. Moments later I notice Tate's plunges become sloppy and quick. As his warm liquid begins to fill me up Tate nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck and calls out my name.

Once he's finished, he rolls off me and snakes under the comforter. When his eyes close I hop out of bed to gather my clothes but Tate's grip stops me. "Cuddle with me," Tate begs with a pout. Instead of answering I grab Tate's t-shirt, slide it on, and the climb back into bed to spoon him.

A few hours later I wake up to find myself wrapped in Tate's arm. I glance over to the clock and read 3:28am.

I contemplate whether to disturb Tate from his slumber and eventually decide to give into my selfish needs. "Tate?" I whisper in his ear. After a few nudges and tugs his eyes creek open and glare at me.

"What time is it?" he grumbles while stretching, revealing his toned stomach.

"Can you explain everything to me?" I plead and avoid his question.

Tate rubs his face and simultaneously sighs. "I've already told you about the shooting. So I'll tell you original plan. I decided to come here, to this home, after I committed the crime. I've made some friends through my drug dealer and he told me about this house. He said it could be mine if I paid him a certain amount. He assured me no one would ever find me here. Of course I took the offer and bought it. I warned him of my plans and he fled. I had someone stock the home for my arrival. Paul promised to help me when needed so he will be our connection to town. I didn't plan to drag you in this Violet. I'm so sorry for that. B-but like I said, when I saw you I felt some control. I needed you. It was selfish. But now I'm giving you a choice. You can stay or leave. I won't stop you," he finishes and then shifts his gaze to the walls.

After a minute of taking in his words in I make a life changing decision. "Tate," I pipe as I roll out of bed. "I think I've fallen for you. But you're psychotic. You're full blown insane," I pause and gather my bra and dress, "However, I can't imagine life without you. I'm staying."

The frown instantly wipes off his face and his velvety doe-eyes look up from his hands. "R-really?" he stutters and attempts to nonchalantly wipe his tears but of course I notice.

"Yes Tate!" I insist as I hook my bra and slide my cotton dress over my head. "No matter how twisted this sounds, I'm glad you found me. I'm glad I ran into you by the library," I admit as I plop onto the bed and snake my arm around Tate.

Instead of answering he places a kiss on my nose and then pulls us down to the mattress once again. "Let's sleep, Vi."

"Okay," I mumble before closing my eyes and relaxing my body.

|Two weeks later|

"Thanks Paul!" I hear Tate shout from the front door followed by a loud slam. As I stir the soup I've made with vegetables from our large garden and homemade ingredients, I hear Tate's footsteps move closer. "We've got more meat and milk!" he cheers while putting away the groceries his ex-drug dealer brought us.

"Wonderful! Dinner's almost ready," I say, indicating Tate to set the table.

After we eat the meal, clean up, and fit in a quick fuck, Tate grabs a bag of popcorn and turns one of the DVDs Paul brought us.

Halfway through Silence of the Lambs, I begin to doze off. However, the loud of distant sirens forces my attention to be heightened. I look over to Tate whose eyebrows are furrowed and his lip is quivering. "Go to the my closet now. There's a hidden door. Hide in there and do not leave until I tell you. Here's the key. You have to find the knob first. Go now," he demands as he forces me into our bedroom.

"Tate, what's happening?" I whimper.

"Go!" he shouts. "I love you so much," he exclaims before kissing me and shoving me into the door.

"I love you too," I shout as he shuts and locks the door.

A few minutes later I hear doors opening and several people screaming. I recognize Tate's voice but there are many others that I don't recall. Sounds of gunshots remove me from my attempts to understand the situation. I instantly sob and realize it's the police coming for Tate. They finally found him.

I debate whether or not to go out and expose myself to the authorities, but decide to wait until they leave so I can say a proper goodbye.

An hour later I hear the sound of the front door slam. I slowly step out of the tiny closet and begin to assess the damage. Plates and chairs are scattered over the floor with gun shells scattered around. The remains of the walls that were hit by stray bullets sit on the floor. I notice a small, shiny pool in the middle of the floor. Knowing what it is, but no accepting it, I walk over to see if my assumptions are correct.

As I bend down to touch the sticky liquid I finally understand it is Tate's blood- he's dead. With the image of him being shot multiple times tears pour from my ducts and don't have intentions of stopping. I lie down next to the puddle and allow the salty liquid to stream down my hot face.

"Violet?" I hear a familiar deep voice croak. I keep my eyes closed and figure it's my imagination trying to cope with the loss of someone so dear to me. "Vi!" the voice shouts, demanding my attention.

I sit up and force my eyes open. I nearly scream when I spot standing before me Tate with his arms dangling and a soft smile on his face. "Tate," I murmur as I stand up and slowly inch closer to the figure. "This can't be real," I whisper as I caress his cheek.

"It is real, darling."

"B-but you died," I say with tears in my eyes.

"I know," he replies, "but I'm still here. I'll always be here."

"How?" I ask while twisting his hair.

"I didn't tell you everything that night," Tate explains as he grabs my hand. His touch feels the same and still sends ripples of nerves around my body and forces my skin to become clammy. He leads us to our bed and sits down next to me. "I knew the police would find me eventually. But when I was purchasing this home Paul informed me of it's...powers. Well, if you die on this property your soul doesn't leave. You're permanently here. I planned on killing a girl here with me to keep my company. But then you came along. I'm not going to kill you Violet. I don't want you to die. I want you to leave and live your life."

I inhale loudly as he finishes his confession. How could this be happening? More importantly how can I live without him?

Before he can stop me I grab the pocketknife sitting on the nightstand and quickly slide it across my the delicate skin covering my throat. As the blood pours out I begin to choke and Tate immediately grabs my throat and tries to stop the blood. "Violet!" he screams with tears in his eyes.

My surroundings begin to fade and become blurry as Tate's cries slow down and I feel my body become limp. Before my world becomes black I hear Tate scream, "I'm sorry!"

. . .

Violet sits up quickly and takes in a deep breath. As Tate picks her up she notices her body lying on the bed surrounded by a pool of blood. They don't exchange words but instead kiss as Tate carries Violet down the hall. The make-out lasts several moments until they arrive to the couch. Then Tate places her down gently and begins to tell her every reason he loves. In that moment Violet lets every sliver of doubt fade as he places kisses up her arm between the love poem Tate conjured during the minutes she spent lying dead.

Finally, she's found the place she belongs: death.