Chapter 13

December 2011.

Rock music blasted as I entered my old room. 

I say 'my old room' because my dad had put this place on the market when Mom died, I guess he wanted to leave us here and start over, but it didn't last long since he had hung himself when new people came and visited the house. 

He didn't mean to do it on purpose Mom said, but things happen for a reason, I guess. 

It was the loud music however that drew me back to this room, loud rock music was being blasted by an old CD player. 

Man, whoever was moving in has horrible music taste.

I turned around suddenly when I heard an unfamiliar voice from behind me, "Who are you?" a tall Mexican boy stood in front of me, his black hair was in his face so he was fixing it every two seconds. 

"You have awful taste in music. Butthole Surfers?" 

I scoffed and went back to looking through the CD's he had stored in his shelf. 

"Hello? Breaking and entering. Who are you?" 

He walked closer towards me, I turned to face him. 

Wow, he was really good looking. 

I decided to be honest even if he thought it was a joke, "A ghost of my former self." he looked confused, "Maia. I live in the neighbourhood." that's a good cover up, right? 

He shook my hand but as he did he looked down with a shocked look on his face, 

"Your hand's cold." 

I picked up a box of CD's and began walking towards the bed sitting on it, I wanted to see what else this guy liked, 

"You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart." 

I emptied his box of CD's onto his bed as he gasped in shock, 

"Yo!" 

I guess he didn't want me to empty it. 

Too bad, I wanted to see if this guy knew shit about music, the singers and songs. 

"Don't you have any Ramones? Like Animal Boy or Too Tough To Die?" 

I was picking through his CD's, he lifted his hand up for me to stop; 

I guess bro doesn't like that I'm in his room. 

"Hey. Get out of my room." 

"You sure you want to be alone? They say this house is haunted."

He smirked at me and shook his head, he was trying so hard not to laugh. 

"You're kind of twisted, aren't you?" 

"You don't know the half of it." I smiled at him, then I noticed something. 

Or someone. 

Tate was standing in the hallway against the wall, staring into the back of the boy's head. He looked like he was about to kill him, shooting daggers into his skull; it might've been more than daggers though..

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She's mine.

He can't be talking to her, she was mine and only mine. 

I wouldn't let it go on.

I didn't like the vibe I got from him, he was popular but also secluded from everyone, in his own little world. 

He was smart but couldn't take a hint. 

He was biased and unpredictable. 

He was scared but acted tough for the attention. 

I knew what he wanted. 

He wanted her. 

And I can't let that happen. 

She may have broken up with me, she may want nothing to do with me, but in the end she's still mine. 

Mine forever, she promised. 

I could feel the tension between them, I knew what he was feeling. 

Because I've felt the same thing. 

He needs to go. 

He will go. 

***

I sat in a chair at the end of his bed, the bed Maia and I spent so many nights in, I watched as he slept so peacefully. 

His mind was clear, no thoughts, no distractions, it won't last long though. 

His dreams about her won't last as long as I was here, which, lucky for him, would be a while. 

His body jumped a bit as his eyes flew open rapidly, I put my foot on the rail of his bed as he looked around still having his head on the pillow 

"What were you dreaming about?" 

He sat up quickly in a panic and stared at me with worry, 

"Bet I know. I'd dream about her, too, if I could dream. I don't think I do anymore." 

His face was confused and scared, 

"The Hell? Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" 

"This used to me my room. And then it was hers." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Maia. She was my girlfriend."

I stared off at the wall as I thought of her. Her brown hair, her dark eyes, her personality that fit with mine, her hand that I held, her body that was all mine. 

I loved that girl more than anything on this earth. 

"That freaky chick from before?"

I was about to kill him right then and there, nobody talks about my girl like that. 

She was not freaky. She was beautiful, she was loving, she was kind, she was different. 

"What do you mean by freaky?"

I clenched my jaw tightly, I would do anything to defend and protect her, even if it meant losing her all over again. 

"She seemed really cool. Nothing happened. She didn't say she had a boyfriend." 

"We kind of broke up." 

I wiped a tear from my cheek, I loved her more than anything and I'll say it a million times. 

I cry at the thought that I couldn't have her with me all the time anymore, I couldn't hold her the way I wanted to. 

I wanted to sob; I just wanted her, I just wanted her with me, man. 

"Right." he chuckled, "Well, I mean, it's totally hands off, dude. I get it." 

"No. I don't think you do." 

He looked confused again as I got up and paced around while staring at him, "I want her to be happy. She liked you, I could tell. You're a good guy, right?" 

"What?" 

He was scared, his voice was shaky and disturbed. 

"I mean, you got all these friends and you played some sports. You make good grades, right?"

"Average." 

He said loudly as I got closer to him, he was terrified, I could tell. 

"Average is good. Normal is good. She deserves normal." 

He got up from his bed and screamed at me, 

"Get out of my way!" and tackled me to the ground but I got up quickly. 

"I don't want to hurt you!" 

I screamed at him while he was laying on his back on the ground, she couldn't be with him. He needed to go. 

I pulled out a large dagger as I stared down at his vulnerable body laying on the ground of his bedroom, 

"Though I do have to kill you." 

I walked towards him as he pleaded with me, 

"Please. I told you, man. Nothing happened!" 

I crouched down and grabbed his shirt as held the dagger back as I was going to stab his face, I tried but I couldn't. 

Every time I tried to plunge the dagger into him, my arm would stop me and my heavy breathing was all I could hear. 

He was looking at me, something none of my other victims did when I committed anything, the shooting, they had their eyes closed, Vivien, eyes closed, the gay men, backs turned. 

"Could you maybe not look at me?" 

I was still holding on to the front of his shirt. 

He mouthed 'what' in a scared and confused way, 

"I mean, could you....Could you, like, stand up or...I don't know ,turn around of something?" 

I got up off him in frustration, he needed to go but in his eyes I could see his whole life ahead of him, I felt bad killing him. 

"Could you please, not kill me?" 

He swallowed anxiously, I spun with my hands in my hair as I turned back to face him. 

"Oh, it's nothing personal. It's just that she's all alone. And that's not right!" 

I sniffled at the thought of her, he needed to go, 

"Stand up!" 

I screamed out at the top of my lungs, this was taking too long. 

I just wanted him gone. 

As he stood up he started praying in Spanish, ugh this was going to take even longer. 

"Come on. Turn around." 

I grabbed his arms and turned his back towards me in a way a cop would when arresting a criminal.

I held the knife to his throat, I hope he enjoyed his life until now.

" Tate, no. Put the knife down, Tate."  

A familiar voice suddenly echoed from behind me, the voice I loved so much; she had to know I was doing this for her. 

"I can't. I'm doing this for you." I sobbed, "I couldn't save you. It's my fault you're alone." 

"But I"m not alone. My family's here now." 

"It's not enough. You need someone." 

"Not him." 

"Then what DO you want?" 

I was so frustrated, so many thoughts ran through my brain. I didn't know what to do other than let tears fall down my face. 

"What I wanted was you." 

Taking the knife away from his throat and lowering my hands I looked back at her, 

"You told me to go away." 

"Yeah. But I never said goodbye. Come let me say goodbye." 

I couldn't believe what she was saying, does this mean goodbye forever after this? Did she want to get back with me? I didn't know, but the only thought in my brain was her kiss. 

I needed it, I missed her so much, even if this is the last time I'd ever kiss her again; it's okay because I'd get to feel her lips one more time. 

I made my way slowly towards her and leaned in; as out lips collided, she held my face in her hands while my hands held her body close to mine. 

God, I missed her so badly. 

I heard the guy run out of the room as our lips moved as one, she pulled away and held my face close to hers for a minute. 

"Goodbye, Tate." 

She whispered, I blinked away my tears and she was gone, she was gone from me, she left. 

She promised she would never leave me. 

She promised that day on the wall.

"Promise you'll never leave me?" 

"I promise." 

I let my tears fall as I remembered her words, the promise that she had sworn not to break. 

But she was gone, gone from me, gone from my touch, gone from the trouble I cause. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

I stayed in that room sobbing. 

Sobbing because I had lost her. 

Forever. 

***

That morning I planned to talk to Dr. Harmon to clear the air. I needed to make sure that everything was okay between us since we'd be here for a while and I didn't want us to be enemies. 

I found him in his old office cleaning up the paper and bubble wrap that was on the ground from the family that had moved in yesterday. They had run away and moved out but they had left some trash here since they were in a hurry 

"Have you got a minute?" 

I walked in as he was talking to himself as he was sweeping up throwing up the paper and trash. 

He looked up at me as if I was the last person he wanted to see, which I probably was but I still wanted to clear things up with him. 

"I know. I'm the last person you want to see right now." 

He let his arm go limp and the broom he had in his hand smacked gently against the ground, 

"You're not a person. You're a monster." 

"I really miss our talks, Ben. You were really helping me." 

He chuckled, 

"Bullshit. You're a psychopath, Tate. It's a mental disorder, therapy can't cure it." 

"So that's your diagnosis? I'm a psychopath?" 

"Yep. And the worst kind. You're charismatic and compelling and a pathological liar. But don't listen to me. I'm a total fraud. And by the way, therapy doesn't work." 

"It doesn't work? Then why do people do it?" 

"'Cause they don't want to take any responsibility for their crappy lives. So they pay a therapist to listen to their bullshit and make it all feel special. So they can blame their crazy mothers for everything that went wrong. Sound familiar?"

I stood there as more tears fell down my cheeks. Stop it, guys aren't supposed to cry at stupid things. 

He chuckled and went on when I didn't answer, 

"It's a great racket, too. Week after week, month after month, year after year, we collect checks, but deep down, we know it doesn't work." 

He was guilting me, I realized how fucked up he was. 

His ego was too high, I hated people like that. 

"You son of a bitch." 

"We're not so different, Tate. I'm a bad person, too. I hurt the people I was supposed to love the most." 

"But they forgave you, right? Maybe Maia'll forgive me, too." 

I had hope that one day she'll come back to me. 

"She can't. You can only forgive someone for what they've done to you directly. Those people you murdered? They're the only ones who can forgive you, and you took away their chance." 

"So this is it? There's no...There's nothing I can do? No chance of mercy?" 

I sobbed, now there was no getting Maia back.

He clapped slowly clapped and smirked with no doubt he wasn't trying to hide it, 

"Terrific performance, Tate. The whole misunderstood kid act? Oh, I fell for it. Maia did, too. But a psychopath, by definition, is incapable of remorse. So, come on. Let's try this again for real this time. You...destroyed everything that mattered most to me. What could you possibly want from me now? " 

He put his broom under my chin and held it there as he finished. I pushed it away and titled my head forward again to look at him, 

"I don't know about definitions, but I really am sorry. To you more than anyone." 

"Sorrys are easy. What about taking responsibility for the things you've done?" 

I didn't say anything, I didn't know what to say or how to say it. 

He chuckled again, "Christ. You can't even say the words." 

I stood as he bent down to continue picking up the trash on the ground, but I was ready. 

"In 1994, I set my mom's boyfriend on fire. And then I shot and killed 15 kids at Westfield High. I murdered the gay couple who lived her before you. And I raped your wife. There were other things, too. Other people I hurt. I'll tell you everything." 

There, I admitted it. 

He shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek, 

"I'm not your priest, Tate. I can't absolve you for any of this." 

"Right. I get that. But can you just....hang out with me sometimes?" 

He sighed, I don't think so. 

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Christmas music played on the stereo as Mom, Dad, Violet and I decorated our Christmas tree, with the occasional help of Moira. 

Violet was standing on a ladder while I stood between my parents hanging up more ornaments. 

'The little drummer boy' was playing as Moira came into the living room with a circular box of ornaments, 

"I found these in the attic." 

Violet picked up an ornament and looked at it, I moved around my parents and went to look in the box as well. It was old vintage looking round balls, some with lace around the top. 

I picked one up too and looked at it,

 "Wow. They look so old and vintage." 

I turned it around and inspected it. 

"They look so ancient." 

Violet agreed and picked another one out of the box. Moira sighed and looked down, 

"I suppose they are." 

Then she looked at both Violet and I, 

"You'll come to understand, girls, that the word 'vintage' and 'ancient' will lose all its meaning when your existence is one long today." 

"Dad's gonna plug in the lights, watch." 

Mom came up beside me and gave me a side hug as Dad bent down to plug in the lights, Violet continued picking out ornaments and putting them around the top of the tree. 

"Okay. Everybody ready?" 

he said and then plugged in the tree to another outlet connected to the wall, it lit up the living room in a festive way as we all stood in our spots looking at it while the music played in the background. 

"Look at that." 

He got up walking around the tree, 

"I chopped it down myself, I'm proud to say. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" 

"Yeah, me." 

I said as my parents laughed and my mom came over with my brother smiling while holding him in her arms, 

"I have. Look at him. He's so amazing." 

"Oh.." 

My dad leaned against my mom to look at him, they both looked down at him as I went to help Violet finish putting the ornaments on the tree. 

Violet stood off the ladder and looked at the tree so I took this chance to take her spot and climb up the ladder and fix and move around anything that didn't look good, sisterly things. 

She laughed when she saw what I was doing but continued helping me put the last of the ornaments on. 

We laughed and talked as we decorated and Mom and Dad stood proudly and watched with the baby as the tree illuminated our faces. 

Little did we know we were being watched as well.

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Hayden and I stood at the window and watched the Harmon's decorate their tree for Christmas. 

They looked so happy and seemed like they enjoyed being together, something my family never felt with each others presence. 

Seeing Maia smile a real smile for the first time since we broke up really made me feel something, it wasn't jealousy since she was with her family but, maybe it was guilt. 

I had to let her go since she wouldn't want me back after everything I've done, but I'll always love her no matter what. 

I think she noticed that we were watching because she made eye contact with me from the small ladder she was standing on, and her smile faded. 

Her smile faded when she saw me, did I really affect her that much that she stopped smiling at the sight of me? 

What if it was also guilt because she didn't have me anymore either, what was she feeling? 

She was so happy a minute ago, why did she stop smiling? 

All these thoughts ran through my brain as I looked at her, she had looked away and continued fixing the tree and talking to her family. 

Maybe she'll let me hit just one more time, maybe she'll take me back if she overthinks it too much, I just want her back. 

"Grow a pair, Rimbaud. She's not into you. You're not getting back into her. She'll never talk to you again." 

"I'll wait. Forever, if I have to."