Chapter 7

November 2011. 

I sat at my desk that morning thinking about last night, what Constance had said.... 

What that group of psychos had said. 

I mostly thought about what that guy had said.

"We're kind of famous." 

What did that mean? 

Then that stuff about Westfield... 

I decided to do my own little investigation online. 

I pulled out my computer and went onto RoundSearch, looking up the Westfield High Massacre. I had thought because of the bullet wounds that they had to be from something, right? 

I pressed enter and tons of websites and articles showed up. I scrolled down a bit and went onto a memorial site for the victims, kind of strange that they would put this out but I rolled with it because maybe I'd see the person who caused this. 

I scrolled down and read how and when it happened, then scrolled more to see pictures. It sent chills down my spine seeing them. 

Chloe Stapleton 

Kyle Greenwell

Amir Stanley

Stephanie Boggs

Kevin Gedman

'15 dead in tragic shooting at Westfield High.'

There was a picture with Chloe and Kyle together, I assume they were dating. They smiled as he had his head in her neck, they looked so happy. 

The article made me nauseous. 

This can't be real. 

They're dead?

I blinked and realized there was an article titled 'Suspect In School Shooting News.'. I clicked on it and immediately a picture of Tate came onto my screen, his school picture. 

My stomach dropped. 

It couldn't be him. 

Until I read the name at the bottom of the photo, Tate Langdon.

My eyes went blurry as I stared at his face, my heart was racing as I quickly closed the computer and went downstairs. 

My breathing was shaky as I went down the stairs, I was dating a murderer. 

"Mom?" I called out almost crying. I loved him, I didn't know what I should do now. 

Should I break up with him? Should I accept that he's changed? But he didn't know who they were? Was he lying? 

So many thoughts were in my brain as I called out for my mom, I needed her advice. I made my way to the kitchen still calling her, I saw a familiar cigarette bag on the table. 

Constance was here. 

She was smoking a cigarette in the kitchen, "She's not here." she puffed out a breath of smoke. 

"Where is she? Did you hurt her?" my voice was panicky and my heart was beating so fast. 

She chuckled and turned her head towards me, "Of course not. She's probably at the grocery store, buying some frozen fare to reheat for your supper tonight." 

I didn't say anything, I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen as she went on. 

"You found out about Tate, didn't you? I knew you would." 

I was too shaken for this right now. 

The mother of a mass shooter who killed 15 kids was in my house. 

I needed to clear my head for a while until my mom gets home. 

I didn't know what to do, I walked into the kitchen and told her the only thing I felt in that moment. 

"Get out of my house. This is not happening." 

I cried, I couldn't believe my boyfriend was a murderer, I didn't know how to handle it. 

Constance remained calm, "I questioned my sanity when I first found out. But this house...This house will make you a believer. You see, Maia, we were living here when Tate lost his way. And I believe that the house drove him to it."

She sounded insane, "What? No. That can't be real." 

"You're a smart girl. How can you be so arrogant to think that there's only one reality that you're able to see?" I stared at her dumbfounded.

"I want you to meet someone." she said and got up from the stool. 

I followed her back to her house where a woman was sitting in the kitchen. She had long honey blond curls, a face that looked like it was from the 50's and a pearl necklace. 

Constance walked around the table and introduced us, "Maia Harmon, meet Billie Dean Howard." the woman looked from me to Constance, as if she didn't want to meet me.

Constance chuckled as she picked up a teapot from the counter, "The child has no manners. Billie is a gifted medium. She can help." 

"You're confused. Overwhelmed. Why wouldn't you be?" Billie said in a spooky tone as if trying to convince me she could feel what I felt. 

The only thing I felt in that moment was nauseous, I wanted to run away far from this town. 

"I never asked for any of this." 

"None of us did. But nothing can be done once one's been chosen." she nodded at me to sit. 

I hesitantly stepped forward and pulled out a chair for myself, sitting on it slowly without looking away. 

"Billie's been helping me for years." Constance was putting stuff on the table, if this was a tea party, I wish I'd been uninvited.

"I first found her on Craigslist. I've been through all the phonies, but she is 100% authentic."

I sat unimpressed; a blank look on my face because I honestly didn't care, "I've just come from a meeting at Lifetime. They're interested in making a pilot with me." she tucked her hair behind her ear in a bragging manner, she was too full of herself. 

I decided to show how much I cared by being sarcastic, "A Craigslist medium with a Hollywood agent. Who'd have thought." I sounded like a bitch but I didn't care. 

She didn't have anything to say, just stared at me with an 'I'm gonna punch this child' look on her face. 

She shook her head and bit her cheek as Constance placed herself in front of me pouring tea into a tea cup, "Have some chamomile tea. It'll calm the nerves." 

I thought I was going crazy, "I'm in a dream." I scoffed. This was not real. 

"I used to be like you." Billie crossed her arms and leaned back, "Until I was 25, when, out of the blue, my cleaning lady shows up as I'm brushing my teeth. Except she's got no toilet brush or rubber gloves. She's naked and bloody. Her husband murderer her with an ice pick." 

Constance poured herself a cup of tea, "It's hard to keep good help." 

"Do you think I wanted a bloody Mexican ghost in my bathroom? All I wanted was to improve my tennis game and unseat Charlotte Whitney as president of my book club. But I was chosen. And when you're chosen, you either get with the program or you go crazy. Understanding the truth is your only choice." she sounded so fake, but I was slightly intrigued now. 

"Then what's your version of the truth?" I leaned back in my chair as Constance gave her a cigarette. She leaned down so Constance could light it, then she puffed and sat up to look at me, "There are some who have an understandably violent and vengeful reaction to being horribly murdered.  They refuse to move on until they exact their pound of flesh. Then their are very few souls, like Tate, who don't even know they're dead, who walk among the living in child-like confusion."

I refused to believe this, he was dead? How come I could see him? I'm in a dream, I had to be dreaming. Somebody wake me up, please? 

"That's why I wanted him to see your father." Constance sipped her tea, "I was hoping your father might help him achieve some clarity about himself, that he could see the truth on his own." 

Billie leaned over to me and slightly whispered, "We must help him cross over, Maia." 

I did not believe a single word that was coming out of their mouths. They had to be on some hardcore drugs to invent some bullshit story, but why? Why would they make up a story? To scare me into leaving? Into not seeing Tate? What was their goal if this was made up?

"This is bullshit. I was set up. My computer was...Someone messed with my..." Billie interrupted me as I was spewing out whatever denial I had left. 

"Who is Mary?" she grabbed my hands on the table, "Maia, she wants to talk to you." 

She quoted what she 'heard', yet I still didn't believe in all this hocus pocus 'I can hear spirits' bogus.

"They don't understand you. Never will understand you." 

I stared down at her hands over mine, I hadn't heard that before but it was more of a feeling. The feeling of being ignored, judged, misunderstood. 

"Does that mean anything to you? "They don't understand you."?" I got up and left the table. This was too much. 

I had already been feeling a lot of emotions with finding out that my boyfriend is a murderer, now finding out he's apparently dead and then channeling spirits who wanted to talk to me? 

This can't be real. 

This is too much. 

I walked out of the kitchen and opened the door to the porch, walking out back to my house. I went into the bathroom and paced around. 

I was picking at my nails and scratching my skin till it bled, even pulling out some of my hair. 

I looked towards the closed door, nothing. 

No one. 

I laid on my bed and thought. I didn't know how to feel, I needed to do more research on this school Massacre, but I just couldn't bring myself to know more. 

I need to know why he did it. Why he acts the way he does. Constance said the house drove him to it, this house does have soul but, not enough to drive someone insane. 

This is crazy, I'm about to have a panic attack. 

I don't know what to do. 

What do I say when I see him next, he just shows up randomly but what am I supposed to say? 

Am I supposed to break up with him? 

Am I supposed to deny everything he did because I love him? 

He acts so innocent, nobody would suspect he was capable of murder. 

I don't know what he talks about with my dad but all I know is he is on meds. 

How long ago has this happened though, if he really is dead, which would be unbelievable, but if he was, how long ago has it been since he died? 

This is all bullshit. Everything. Why am I even questioning myself? Ghosts don't exist; spirits, yes because they're souls, but ghosts? 

This is all bullshit, Constance has to be on a very dopey drug to come up with shit like this. 

I need a nap. 

No. 

Screw naps. 

I need to move away from this town, or die. 

I think I'm going insane. 

***

The next day was school, I walked in sulking as I normally do. Violet said I looked confident and bitchy but honestly, I felt like a dud. 

Violet went to her class because she had apparently made friends with Leah, the girl who had beaten her up at the beginning of the year. 

I didn't want to go to class, I wanted to know more about this shooting. 

How did it happen? 

When did it happen? 

Why did it happen? 

I had so many questions that maybe I'll find the answers to. 

I walked into the oddly quiet library, at the back there was a sign that said, 'IN MEMORY OF OUR LOST BROTHERS AND SISTERS' and then the names at the bottom, the five people I had met the other night were there along with several others. 

It was the class of 1994, I wonder if this place had changed since then. I turned and walked slowly around the the library, staring at the man placing books on the shelf. 

He was in a wheelchair, I had read online that a teacher had been shot because he was protecting his students. He survived but he needed wheelchair, this must be him. 

I turned back and looked around and looked up and down the aisles when a motor whirred from behind me, "They were over by the sofa." a man said from behind me. 

I looked back to see the teacher, in his electric wheelchair parked in front of me. 

"Used to be a row of tables." he looked me up and down, "I get four or five of you sickos a year. Usually freshman. What, are you a transfer?" 

I knew he was a hero and I knew he had his share of trauma but there was no reason to talk to me like that.

"I'm a junior and yes but that doesn't mean I don't know what happened." he stared at me to continue, "You're that teacher, you're, like, a hero."

"Now you know what heroes look like." he smiled a fake smile and sped off in his chair. 

Man, I gotta give the man props for still working here after such a traumatic event, maybe I shouldn't have given him so much attitude. 

I decided to rethink my decisions since he seemed to not want to be reminded of that event and my hero comment probably made him uncomfortable. 

"Wait. I'm sorry." I turned my body around, "I'm not like those other kids. I know Tate. I know his mom too, we moved next door to her." 

He turned his chair around to face me so we were looking at each other, "Did you know him? Before he did this?" 

I needed to know how he was before he did it, was he quiet? Loud? Energetic? Creepy? I needed to know for my sake, he was my boyfriend and if things weren't right then I needed to do something. 

"I knew his face. Didn't seem like a bad kid, actually. He was in here a lot. Kind of thoughtful. Liked to read. Byron, books on birds, random stuff." 

"Was he bullied or anything? Did he even know the kids he shot?" he hesitated then turned his chair to go away but I persisted, "I just want to know why he did it." 

"Me, too." he wheeled away around the counter. I had had enough of his bullshit, barely wanting to talk, ignorant comments. 

He didn't have to be an asshole about it. 

"Why are you bullshitting me?" I slightly screamed across the library, I didn't care. I needed answers and he was the only way that I could get it because, he was a witness. 

He stopped his chair for a few seconds then backed up, turning around to face me once again. 

"If the bullet had been an inch to the right, it would have missed my spine, and I would have walked out of here. Might have even been able to stop him. An inch higher, it would've killed me. Sometimes, shit just happens." 

I wasn't buying his 'shit just happens' story.

 "Good people don't start shooting people on their bad days." 

He shook his head, "Maybe he wasn't a good person." 

He gave me a 'you know I'm right' look then turned his chair around again to wheel away. 

This was driving me insane. 

***

I got home and put my stuff on the ground by the front door. 

I needed to talk to Tate to figure this out, I needed to know why he did it and I needed to know if it's worth staying with him. 

I walked down the hallway at the front door, "Tate?" I called out for him, no answer. I made my way into the dining room and stood by the end chairs, thinking about what I was doing. 

"Tate?"

I walked into the living room and glanced to the side seeing a person walk down the stairs to the basement. 

I walked to the backdoor and hesitated if I should go down or not, was it worth it to go down with a murderer? 

I took the chances and I guess whatever happens, happens. 

Gripping the railing firmly and taking heavy steps down the stairs, I called again, "Tate?" walking further in, I spoke to him.

"I'm not playing Hide-and-seek, Tate. You have to leave now!" 

As I yelled for him, something popped behind me and two little boy laughs echoed through the dark basement. 

I ran after them, they can't be ghosts, ghosts aren't real. 

"Get out of my house!" I strutted after them, ain't no way I'm wasting my energy running for this. 

I stopped at the entrance of a room, the room where the bathtub was, I stopped and I felt dizzy. 

A woman in white stood in the bathtub, black hair covering her chubby face and blood smeared everywhere. 

"Look at what he did to me." it echoed as she spoke, I felt dizzy. I was going insane. 

I turned to leave, the man who had broken into our house was standing in front of me blocking my way, everything flashed before my eyes. 

I was so lightheaded, the woman with the knife who had also broken into our house now stood beside him. 

"Excuse me, ma'am. I don't want to bother you, but I'm hurt and needing some help." she stepped closer and closer to me. 

I pushed past them and down another hallway, at the end of the stairs was a man in a nurse uniform.

"Has my wife medicated you? Are you here for the procedure?" 

Everything was blurry now as he came closer to me, I was hyperventilating and crying. 

This cannot be real. 

I ran up the stairs but stopped hesitantly as rock music was playing from upstairs. 

I went up and listened to where it was coming from; walking to my room and opening the door, the music intensified. 

I walked over to my iPod who was playing music from my speaker. Who turned it on?

The music stopped and I stood in silence, I looked around my room and my eyes landed on my chalkboard in the corner of my room. 

In chalk, written in capital letters 'I love you' was written across it. 

Tears formed more in my eyes, this can't be happening. 

I got a psychopath in love with me. 

What if I did something wrong and he killed me next? 

I felt trapped, as if I couldn't escape him. He was in love with me and I was dating him, I committed myself to a murderer, and now I can't get out of it. 

I was panicking and hyperventilating sitting on my bed. I sobbed into my lap, this can't be happening. 

Everything up until this point, the break-in, mom's pregnancy, my new boyfriend, Constance, Addy, everything. 

Everything piled up at once and I sobbed into my sleeves, letting the tears drip onto my lap. I can't live with this anymore, I wanted to die. 

If I stayed with Tate then I'd most likely die anyway, I knew now what he was capable of and if I lasted another second alive with him, it wouldn't stay that way for long. 

I knew the consequences that came with suicide and that wasn't my intention, I took the bottle of Benzodiazepines, which are my anxiety pills and swallowed a hand full. 

Suicide was not my intention but my mind had different plans. 

I laid on my bed as my stomach ached, I had swallowed more than half of the container, only a few left stray on my bed. I held my stomach, I was shaking uncontrollably and I felt light. 

Then everything went black. 

________________________________________________________________________________

Maia had overdosed on her anxiety pills. 

I had found out after feeling the energy shift in the air so I figured I'd check on her. She was laying on her bed with her arms around her stomach and dried tears on her face. 

I panicked, she couldn't die. 

My baby, she couldn't do this to me. 

I panicked and started crying immediately, I took a second before dragging her body off the bed and down the hallway. 

I needed to save her, for us. 

"Don't you die on me, Maia!" I screamed as if she would hear me, but I already knew it was too late.

"Don't you...No. Don't you die!" I sobbed as I dragged her into the bathroom. 

I got in the tub with her as I held her close to me.

"Don't you die on me!" her head went limp on my chest as I turned on the water. 

My heart and stomach hurt so bad, we could never have kids, never grow old together, never do any of that. 

"Maia!" I sobbed into her head as the shower ran over both of us, drenching our hair and clothes. 

I didn't care, I needed her to be alive. 

I noticed she wasn't breathing so I thought of the only other thing to do, I shoved my fingers down her throat and made her throw up the pills. 

She coughed and gagged and bent her head down as I shoved my fingers towards the back of her throat to trigger her gag reflex.

Only a little bit came out, at least some came out. 

I bent her head towards me as she blinked slowly, I stroked her face as she cried. I kissed the back of head and neck lovingly, I knew she was already dead but at least she was here with me. 

My brave, beautiful girl. 

I'm so sorry you had to go like this, I tried to save you. 

I tried for you, Maia. 

________________________________________________________________________________

I rested on my bed comfortably as I read a book. It was a book I'd found in the library, about birds. 

It was fascinating, I didn't know I had this much interest for birds until I started reading it. Flipping through the pages, I came to the end of the book. 

The end page had a slip with a piece of paper, it was the people who had scanned out the book in recent years, I don't know why they haven't replaced it yet. 

The paper was rusted and dusty but you could still read the names clear as day, one name didn't surprise me, it kind of gave me a sense of relief but annoyance at the same time. 

Tate Langdon.  

Was written in cursive on one of the lines in the middle of the paper. It didn't surprise me since the bitchy library man told me he liked birds. 

"I knew his face. Didn't seem like a bad kid, actually. He was in here a lot. Kind of thoughtful. Liked to read. Byron, books on birds, random stuff." 

He seemed like an innocent boy before this, I wonder if the house really did drive him to it? I heard a voice but I didn't look up from the paper.

"I like birds, too."

I looked up when he didn't say anything else, he was standing by my bed awkwardly but, he also looked guilty. 

As if he wanted to tell me something, he swallowed nervously. 

"Why do you like them?" 

I genuinely wanted to know the answer but that's it. I had tried to talk to him about everything else yesterday. 

I was over it honestly, I didn't know him anymore. 

"'Cause they can fly away when things get too crazy, I guess. Are you gonna tell your parents? Or Violet?.....About the pills?" 

"No." 

I was leaning on my elbow with my palm on the side of my face, I mumbled it to him, I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone about anything. 

"I've been sleeping a lot. They think I'm depressed." 

"Are you?" he said without hesitation, he really did care. 

"I'm sad." I replied with no emotion, he gazed at me with his big brown eyes. 

"Me, too." he looked down as if he wanted to say something, then he looked at me through his eyebrows.

"Maia..." he had tears in his eyes, "Something's changed in you. Toward me. You're distant, cold. I don't know what I've done but I'll leave you alone from now on if that's what you want." 

He stopped for a second and choked out a sob.

"Is that what you want?" 

I didn't say anything, I stared at his teary, red face. His eyes held so many emotions that I couldn't decipher all of them, but the one most prominent one, was hope. 

Hope that we could still be together, hope that we don't follow the same path, hope that we can live on the rest of our lives normally. 

His eyes begged for me to let him stay and that's why he explained.

"You know why I'd leave you alone? 'Cause I care about your feelings more than mine." 

He hesitated for a second.

"I love you." 

A tear ran down the side of my nose as I listened to him confess. 

"There, I said it. Not just on some chalkboard." he sniffled and waited for me to say something, when I didn't he continued.

"I'd never let anybody or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone." 

I came out of it and looked down to my bed avoiding eye contact.

"Come here." 

He stood for a second before hesitantly climbing into my bed and laying down. He laid his head in between my boobs and intertwined our fingers. 

We fell asleep glued together in my bed that night, nothing had ever felt so real in that moment. 

Before when I was with Tate it felt like nails on a chalkboard, but now it feels as if were both floating on the same boat. 

I felt his skin, the veins in his hands, the hair on his arms, I felt it all. 

Something I couldn't do before. Now it felt realer than ever. 

He was mine and I was his. 

forever.