We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

My life somehow found its way to the frozen pits of Hell. As Brittany's time here shortened, so did our patience for each other. Unless Tate was there to lighten the mood, we wouldn't speak to one another. As a result, Tate wasol over often. He even met my parents. It wasn't planned. I wanted to keep him my secret.
It was in the basement. While Brittany was fixing her eyeliner in the upstairs bathroom, I confessed to Tate the tension between myself and Brittany. While I cried over the loss of someone I considered family, my mom came downstairs. I was laying Tate's arms with tears running down my face. It wasn't something she would ignore. I introduced the two, trying to clean any evidence of sadness. My mom had to call Dad down as well so he could meet the strapping young man who was dating his daughter. Behind them, standing on the top step, Brittany watched my family swoon over him. She gave me an evil stare. Jealousy had possessed her. I was afraid no exorcism could save her soul.

Later that night, while we were tucked away in bed, negative feelings fell over me. So many different things rushed through my body as once. I felt angry first; the girl I had previously trusted with my life was now my mortal enemy because of a cute boy. Then depression and pain. A small dose of anxiety tickled my nerves. Finally, came fear. I felt Brittany arise from the bed and leave the room. I closed my eyes to make it seem like I was asleep. Brittany didn't go anywhere. She just shut my bedroom door and began talking to herself. I wanted to call her crazy and leave it at that, but living is this house taught me different.
I wanted to know which one she was talking to, but my heart was beating too fast. I could hear my pulse loud and clear. Brittany's voice became a muffled whisper behind the quickening heart beat. The only sound that could break through the obnoxious sound were the eerie creeks in the floor. At first I thought it was simply the house's strange sounds, but as it grew louder I knew it was something more. I didn't know if it was Brittany or a spirit, but it was obviously I was awake. My breathing was uncontrollable and I had sweat beating down my alabaster face.
Suddenly a hand grabbed my exposed shoulder and quickly shook me. I could've had a heart attack. I'm pretty sure I actually felt my heart stop for a second as I jumped. Then Tate's soothing voice whispered in my ear that everything was okay. I could hear my heart beat quieting to it's slow and silent rhythm. But before I could enjoy the relaxation, Tate grabbed my hand, and dragged me off of the bed.

"C'mon, we have to go," he said quietly.

I instantly thought that he was insane. He wasn't able to leave the house and I couldn't just up and leave. I didn't say a word though. I just starred at him dumbfounded in the middle of my room.

"Just for a minute," he explained taking me in his arms. "I have to hide you. Just for an hour or two," he said. He tried to make it seem not so crazy.

"Why?" I asked in a normal tone. I forgot that the night somehow amplified everything. Tate immediately shushed me by covering my mouth.

"Hayden's talking to Brittany. Just follow me to the roof and it'll be okay. Just go," he pushed me towards the window as he gave me that vaigue description.

He climbed out first, encouraging me to follow. I didn't hesitate as I heard Brittany's whispers go quiet. Tate and I climbed the cliche, vein covered fence up to the roof. He helped me up since I was deathly affraid of heights. It felt like I was scaling a skyscraper. The cool night air rolled through my hair and brushed against my sensitive skin. My bare felt pressed against the thin wooden planks painfully. I trembled beneath my fear, causing the entire fence to snake. Thankfully I had Tate.
After he pulled me up to the top and sheltered me in his arms, he told me the terrifying truth of my best friend.
According to Tate, Brittany was being brain washed by Hayden, the vengeful poltrageist. She sees the happiness I share with Tate and it infuriates her. The man she loved could never love her. If she can't be happy then why should anyone else be?
Brittany was basically on a mission to murderer me. Hayden had used her trickery to manipulate her feelings. She altered Brittany's wiring and made her crazy.

I didn't know what to do, so I cried against Tate's chest. I became accustomed to the smell of blood, so I could sob when needed. My weeping only lasted a minute or two. I knew I had to pull myself together. Throwing a pity party for myself wasn't going to help anyone.
I looked up at Tate, wiping the tears away, and swallowing my sadness.

"What can we do?" I asked. The last of my depression hung onto my quivering words.

"Let me handle it," he said calmly as he brought his lips to mine. I allowed him to kiss me because I needed the intimacy.
The power he had over me should scare me, but I felt safe under him that I didn't mind.
Our lips and then collapsed into eachother's over and over until I had to force myself away.

"No," I said as I pulled myself away from him, "Brittany's my friend. I need to deal with her. You can help, but I don't want you to do anything drastic. She leaves in two days. If I can get her away from the house she should be fine, right?" I asked.

Tate just gave me a sympathetic look, like I had already lost. My hopes fell off the small pedistal I set them on. They sank to the cement like rocks.

"Maybe, " was all Tate could muster.

He took my face into his cold hands and brought me to his lips again. We didn't speak. I didn't cry. Tate didn't give me some cheesey, romance novel line. He just smiled against my lips and kissed me again. It calmed me down, despite all of the emotions that were running through me. In Tate's arms, I oddly felt okay. Even though my best friend was in a jealous, murderous, ghost filled rage, I could only hear the gentle chirping of crickets and the sound of our lips parting. I forgot about the world. If it didn't involve that moment, I didn't want to care.
Tate laid me down on the roof tiles and conquered my small body. He was gentle and kind when he caressed my body. He made sure to tenderly kiss my neck and lightly nibble on the nape of my neck.
His soft lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, "I just want you to be happy. Is this okay?"

I didn't think about it. I was tired of thinking. I indulge in my impulse and simply muttered a trembling, "yes,".
Tate began to undress me along with himself. He removed his sweater, revealing his bullet wounds. They weren't gaping holes like I thought they would be. They just looked like fresh scabs. I could still smell the eternal scent of blood on him though. It wasn't that bad.
He kissed my entire torso. His cold hands massaged my bare stomach and chest. He pressed his icy body against mine, warm and beating. I don't know why I expected a heart beat when he did that. I'm not sure why I was so disappointed when I couldn't feel one. Maybe it made Tate's death more real. You'd think that would leave me applaud and disgusted, but I honestly didn't mind at the moment.
He became more rough when he heard my heavy breathing, which turned into light moans under his aggressive touch. He massaged my body with such passion that it left me quivering under him. I finally lost control and playfully gripped his hair, begging for him to take me. He didn't disappoint me.

The next morning was extremely awkward. Not because of the sex, but because we were still on the roof. I was wearing nothing but my black, lacy underwear and Tate's sweater. He laid next to me topless with his pants loosely hanging on his hips. He didn't bother butttoning them or sipping them up.
I didn't know he was able to sleep. Maybe he wasn't. He could've just been faking it so he didn't look creepy, starring at me as I slept.
His arm was casually drapped over my body. The slightest movement would wake him and he looked so...human. The peaceful look on his sleeping face brought some humanity to his otherwise ghostly appearence. His cold, pale skin and baggy eyes.
I brushed his face with my free arm and watched his eyes flutter open.