Hayden was wrong, it wasn't death that made you horny, it was boredom. I was laying on my on my back staring up at the ceiling smoking a cigarette while Travis babbled on next to me. His post-sex ritual apparently involved boring his partner with how he was the "Boy Dhalia". I wouldn't be surprised if he whipped out his clippings in a minute. I wasn't even listening. It was white noise as far as I was concerned, but it was seriously making me consider slitting my wrists just for something to do. I wonder what it would be like? Would I bleed out like someone who was alive only to wake up good as new?

"Vi? Hello? Did you hear what I said?"

I pulled myself out of my reverie. "It's Violet, and no I wasn't listening. Tell me do you ever shut up, or do you like the sound of your voice so much you just keep pouring out word vomit?" And for once he shut up. I did feel a little bad when I caught sight of his hurt expression, but I wasn't here to listen to him talk. He wasn't a bad guy. A little shallow, a little dumb, but not a bad guy. I stubbed my cigarette out, and rolled over to straddle Travis under me.

"I'm sorry" I whispered in his ear before kissing his neck. He pouted for a minute, but I could feel him getting hard again under me. I slide my slick sex up and down his length a few times before taking him inside of me. He was at least well endowed, and experienced. He knew exactly where to touch me to make me come; kissing my neck and shoulders while he massaged my clit. Not long after I came he finished too. I didn't hang around after that. Twice was enough for one night, so I got dressed, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and walked out. Poor Travis. Forever cursed to be used by the women of the house as a life sized sex toy.

The hallway outside the bedroom was dark. I turned to my left to make my way downstairs when I heard it; a pathetic wounded animal noise coming from the attic. I knew who and what it was, and my anger flared white-hot. Logically I could have walked away from it, and gone downstairs to where I wouldn't have to hear it. My anger wouldn't let me do that though.

I stormed through the hallway and up the rickety stairs into the attic. Tate was huddled in the corner, arms wrapped around his knees like a child, crying. He looked at me as I came into the room. "Why! Why would you do that to me Vi!"

That did it. All the anger I had been holding in for months exploded with the force of a bomb. "To you! You think I fucked him to get back at you?" I picked up the first thing within reach, an old lamp, and threw it at him. The ceramic base exploded as it hit the wall over his head. "You stupid piece of shit!" I had never been a violent person, preferring to use my words as weapons instead of physical force. As much pain as I wanted to inflict on Tate I knew my words would be the most hurtful, so I tried to keep that in mind.

I walked over to where Tate was still hunched amid the wreckage of the lamp, and crouched down to his eye level. "What I do with other people has nothing to do with you. I didn't sleep with him to get back at you. I slept with for the same reason I cut when I was alive, to feel something other than pain." He finally looked up into my eyes, pain etched on every inch of his tear soaked face. "Did you ever wonder why I swallowed all those pills? Did that niggling little thought never fester in the dark recesses of your brain? It was because of you, because of the things you did, and because I was scared of you. Fear is a pretty natural reaction to finding out a dead psychopath is in love with you, don't you think? You might not have shoved the pills down my throat, but you had a hand in my death just as surely as you slaughtered those kids at Westfield High."

Tate's normally beautiful face was twisted into an ugly mask from his grimace. "I tried to save you Vi! I didn't want you to die!"

"You are so full of shit." I spat at him. "You're such a selfish asshole it made you blind to what was right in front of you. Why do you think I tried to run for help when you wanted to commit fake suicide? You don't care how miserable I am as long as you get to keep me here. It's always 'We'll be together forever', 'We have each other', 'You're all I want', blah, blah, blah. You're so wrapped up in your own happiness that you don't see the complete lack of emotion in my eyes whenever you spew that bullshit. You think I wanted this? To be stuck here with you? If I made any mistake it was being ignorant to what dying in the house would mean."

Tate was too wracked and choked by sobs to even defend himself. He clutched at my hands desperately as if by touch he could communicate his sincerity. We sat that way in silence for a moment, his hand covering mine, before he spoke. "You have to forgive me. You have to forgive me. Please Vi, please, please, please forgive me. I'll do anything just forgive me."

"No."

I got up and turned to lower myself back down the trapdoor, but I hadn't gotten three feet when I was shoved to the floor. I braced myself with my hands, but still landed with a crash. Before I whipped around I grabbed a large, rusty kitchen knife that was on the dusty floor in front of me.

"I love you Violet!" All of the pain in Tate s face had been replaced by blackest anger. "Why can't you see that!" He was towering over me, hands clenched in fists, looking murderous.

I smiled sweetly up at him; a huge, smug, beautiful, insane smile. Tate had underestimated me, always. I wasn't attracted to his darkness because I liked to flirt with danger, but because it mirrored the darkness within myself that I so carefully kept from view. Being dead though, you have nothing to lose. I drew myself up from the floor and walked towards him, the knife concealed behind me. When I reached him I cupped his cheek in my left hand for a moment and watched the hate drain out of him before I plunged the knife into his heart with my right hand. We both fell into a heap on the floor. "Now you know how it felt. How it felt to learn you killed all those kids; how it felt to learn you killed the people who lived here before us; how it felt to learn you raped my mother." Blood was pouring from the wound I had inflicted, and bubbling up out his mouth. His eyes showed nothing but blank shock. "I only wish I could make it permanent."