A/N: Another canon drabble containing Violet's thoughts.

You Found Me

She never asked for this.

She only wanted to get through the hellhole called high school so she could run off to college, maybe date a frat boy or physics nerd, get her degree, and happily slave away at an alternative coffee shop where she could meet people who knew the obscure bands on her T-shirts and who actually wanted to talk about politics, love, the big questions, instead of Gucci, the latest celebrity divorce, and who was having a sordid affair with their boss.

Instead she got tangled up with a dead boy whose eyes were as dark as his soul, whose blond curls were as angelic as the rest of him was lethal.

Instead she killed herself when she found out that he, a psychopath supposedly incapable of loving, loved her. Didn't she win the fucking jackpot? She still could picture that innocent chalk on a board mocking her as she swallowed those pills, one, three, fifteen, down, down, down into her protesting stomach, which she could feel fighting off the death sentence she had resigned herself to.

Instead she gave him her virginity even though she knew he was a killer, and it was still so hot, so forbidden, so beautiful as he whispered in her ear how much he loved her, that he would kill anyone who tried to hurt her, that even now, knowing what she knows, she almost doesn't regret it.

Instead she got her heart torn out when she sent him away for raping her mother, gets it repeatedly scratched and bitten every time she sees a glimpse of him, catches his unique scent in the air, hears an all too familiar chord or singer's voice coming from her room.

Instead of a full, happy life, she gets a frozen, dead wasteland, only a small, insignificant tombstone in the massive graveyard known as Murder House.

She never asked for any of this.

But life has a way of giving you what you need, not what you want. Life has a way of helping you find what you need.

Did she need Tate?

She thought she did, at the beginning. As they secretly hung out after his sessions more and more, she started to like everything about him – like his smile when she put on an old Nirvana album or his eyes when she told him her carefully guarded secrets, and she wanted to see that smile and those eyes more and more – and before she knew it, she felt as though she couldn't live without him and she didn't remember how he went from stranger to love of her life so fast, like a car going zero to one hundred fifty in the blink of an eye.

Now, after all that happened, she is not so sure what she needs anymore.

Maybe time.

Maybe space.

Maybe razors.

Maybe pills.

But maybe she needs him, needs the thing that caused the wound to heal it, use his love – because he will always love her, that she knows for a fact – to cauterize her scars, fight fire with fire.

He found her. She found him.

Maybe that's all she needs.

A/N: Short but sweet. Reviews make this cripple happy!