The Suffering Of Tate Langdon

Chapter 11: Taint

My dreaming was so lucid and peaceful, like the angelic grasp of what heaven could have been. It felt so real; the cloudy scenery, the sound of birds cheering and the presence of many other things. The one thing that didn't make it so perfect, was the fact that Tate wasn't there. His presence was nowhere to be felt or seen in the cloudy world I stood in. I wondered why, he was perfect to me, the one of the kind psychotic but loving boyfriend. But then it hit me, and all of the things he had done flooded my memories like a broken hydrant on a flat street. He was, in fact, a killer. But I said it before to the teacher at Westfield High, a good person doesn't have a bad day and just start shooting people. So still, I couldn't even imagine what type of monsters lie inside of his head, but, I knew Constance was one of them.

But I knew better. The heaven in my dreams was no heaven at all. There's no such thing as heaven here, there's no light at the end of your life, no flushing of memories. Everything that people speak of wasn't true, wasn't elaborated in reality. I knew the things that had taken place condemned me to my eternal life here, but as a ghost. And the scariest thing about that theory was while I was dreaming, I knew that I knew this wasn't the place I really stood in. The clouds turned to blackness, the birds cheering became crows begging for mercy, and Tate's presence seemed lost from me forever. The dream became the nightmare I normally dreamt about: the loneliness, the bitter taste of hell in my mouth, and the darkness surrounding me.

That's when I woke up, gasping and weeping from the nightmare I thought I'd be stuck in forever. The feeling of my bed filled me with relief, but something wasn't right about it, Tate was gone.
"Tate?!" I yelled, panicking. The lack of his presence was affecting me deeply, causing me to think bad thoughts. Was he gone? Did he leave me? No, no, no. He couldn't, could he? So many thoughts grasped my throat and caused me choke on my own worry and distrust. I felt betrayed by all sorts, hurt and bleeding from inside. The one person who I loved so dearly, was possibly gone, and it scared me. But that's when I hear the door open.

The door swings upon quietly and slowly. I sat on the edge of my bed, shaking with an uncontrollable anticipation. I hear quiet breathing and stable movement, like whoever was behind that door was trying hard to be extremely quiet. But then I say it; the edge of blonde lustful locks edging in the door, the pale hand that grips the door like a baseball before slowly swinging it closed. My heart no longer wept, no longer felt like it was being drilled. Because I knew exactly who it was, who I wanted it to be. It was Tate.

"Oh, Violet. Sorry, I thought you were still asleep." His voice was so innocent and without worry, which was so different to what mine was about to be.
"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?! FOR GOD SAKE TATE, WHERE WERE YO-"
"Jesus Christ, Violet," Tate interrupt me, his voice sounding freaked out by my snarling words. "I was getting some fresh air, I didn't sleep much last night, so, I decided to get this for when you woke up."
He revealed the cardboard box strapped to his ribs like glue. The box was something special between us, something we used to always use when we were just friends. He was holding the box for the Scrabble board we used to play.

As soon as I viewed the small, now delicate box, my eyes wet with tears. I could sense the confusion on Tate's face as tears slowly screeched their ways down my cheek. I felt bad for being such a bitch, for not trusting the one boy in the entire world that's actually helped me before.
"Violet, gorgeous? What's wrong?" Tate says as I feel his hand grasping my own. His delicacy was making me feel tearier but In a happy sort of way.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Tate. I thought you were gone from me again. I'm crying because I'm a bitch for not trusting you!"
"Hey, hey! Don't say that, if anything, you're looking out for me. I mean, look at me," he placed the board down then placed his arms out like a Jesus figure. "I'm not exactly the most stable person in the world, in fact, I'm a murderer."

I watched him as he sat down on the floor, his legs crossed like a fourth grader. He seemed so much calmer than normal, so much different then he was four months ago, and I couldn't help but wonder why. I watched as he opened the box carefully, tipping the masses of letters onto the ground, smiling as he looked at me. He looked so adorable, he was like a little puppy, and I wanted to move his blonde lustful locks out of the way and eat him up. His dimples were compelling and luscious, just like his everything else. Even with all of the happiness he was showing, there was something else, deep inside that was eating him. I wasn't completely sure, but I knew him well enough to know something wasn't complete with him. I join him on the floor.

We started a game, setting up the board. We couldn't get a good enough angle that both of us could use it, so instead, I simply sat on his lap to make us both comfortable. I swear I heard Tate chuckle as I sat up against his torso, but I didn't do anything but smile. Tate started, placing an 'I' first. I placed an 'l' in another spot.
"Gotta' say," he pauses, staring into my eyes. "This certainly beats being in the basement."
The basement. That's where he was hiding the entire time? I had my thoughts about it, but I was never sure until now. I couldn't imagine it, I didn't want to. I didn't want to imagine the loneliness he had to deal with, the pain he could have caused himself, it felt like a deep cut in my chest, one that wouldn't stop bleeding.
"Do it," I say.

I needed to know exactly what it had been like to him, to be alone, to be somewhat helpless.
"What, Vi?"
"Do it," I say again. "Tell me what it was like, make me feel bad, please!"
"W- why? I don't want you feeling bad Vi!
His voice was thunderous and forbidding like. He didn't want to tell me, but as soon as I began to look 'upset', I heard him clear his throat.
"Fine! Fine! I'll tell you," he muddles to me. "This is- going to be hard."
"It's okay."

I noticed his facial expression change from upbeat to despairing within seconds. I knew I was going to regret this because I knew his explanation was going to swallow his mind in horrible memories, things he wished he could forget. But I knew Tate, he was never really good at forgetting things, nothing but his death and what he did the day of his death. His breathing wasn't normal anymore. It sounded like he was merely swallowing the air entering his lungs, just to pass it along with no effort. I was both curious and afraid of the words that were about to leave his mouth, but I'd prefer if I knew about his pain, rather than him lock and hide it from me.

"It was crazy. The first two weeks weren't that bad, I had my brother Beau in the basement with me, playing ball with him and talking to him. It didn't seem too bad at first, but, that was before he disappeared from me. Then, I remember it, the loneliness began. I was stuck there like glue, couldn't think straight or sleep. And it just got worse from there, so much worse. Memories of what I did and being shot down by those policemen, it replayed, over and over and over."
It was just as bad as I thought it would be. His words were slowly stripping tears from my face, but I do anything but continue to play Scrabble as he explained more.
"I was slowly going insane as the months went by. Punching walls until my bones show, sliding my wrists again, crying and rolling in a ball in a corner, like I was fucking five-year-old. I was being tortured by my own memories, by my own hand. I swear, there's like, another version of me, inside of me."
His face was drowning itself with tears, tears that were always supposed to fall in front of me. His tears inevitably made mine faster, but, we continued with our game.
"I swear to god Vi, there's another me in my head, the bad me. The version of me that made me kill those kids, Patrick and Chad, and made me- you know. I'm not using this as an excuse, I promise. But I've had voices in my head, telling me to do things to myself, over and over, like begging or enforcing. Maybe, just maybe, his name is Taint."

Tate kicks the board away from him, causing all of the pieces to fly around the room. He stands up and finds himself in the corner of the room, rolling in a ball as I stand up. He was crying more, but not like any crying I've ever seen. He was terrified, not of anything else, but himself and the things he'd done. I loved him, and I hated seeing him like this.
"Hey, hey, It's okay," I bring my hand out to him, grasping his. "Listen to my voice, Tate."
I could feel him calming slightly as his crumpled watery eyes stare up at me.
"Four months, Violet," he wails. "Four months of loneliness."
I embrace him into my chest to calm him down, to make him feel my warmth and love. His breathing was slowing enough to allow me to say this.
"Tate Langdon," I stare down at him. "You're never leaving my sight again. I love you so much, and I have from the very beginning, and I won't stop until I'm dead."