Violate: A Second Chance at Happiness

Violet slid down the wall of her room, her hand over her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

This wasn’t the way she wanted to go about this, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She wanted to be normal. No matter how many times she insisted on wanting to be different than everyone else, she had changed her mind. She never wanted to be this different. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with a normal boy instead of a fucking ghost??

And of all houses they could have moved into, why did her dumbass parents have to pick the haunted, creepy house that trapped everyone who died on the property? Why? Why? WHY??

She apparently had the shittiest luck ever with her parents being stupid assholes and dragging them out of Massachusetts to live in goddamn California where it was sunny all year round. With the boy she was in love with being a crazy (but amazingly hot) psychopath who shot up his high school and murdered innocent people. With her successful suicide attempt leaving her trapped in a creepy-ass house that drove her entire family insane.

Trapped in a house with the boy she loved…for a little while at least.

And even though she had already said goodbye, even though she told him to go away, she still loved him. So much. But he wasn’t good for her, she knew that. She stood up, walking over to her iPod and turning it on to announce her presence to her parents. They were dead now, too. Her mother, Vivian, died in childbirth while the other ghosts of the house had hung her father, Ben, from the second story chandelier.

And surprisingly, this was the most normal attempt at having a family she’d ever had.

Then there was her little brother. Apparently, he was homicidal, just like his father. Her ex-boyfriend, Tate, who had raped her mother. Violet knew Tate probably had a reason (no matter how fucked up that reason may be), but she didn’t want to hear it. Constance had run out of her house screaming, flailing her arms around above her head just for the sake of causing a scene. Storming into the house and down to the basement, Violet watched as the batty old woman accused Tate of being a monster and that he was a psychotic idiot for getting Vivian pregnant.

You’re a little late to pick up on that, crazy bitch. Violet had chuckled to herself as she observed the scene from the corner of the eerie basement. After some more frantic yelling, empty threats, and harsh insults, Violet saw something she wished she had never seen. Something that began to make her once again fall in love with the teenage boy who had resolved to love her forever.

All because of Constance’s crazy-ass temper and completely unsympathetic nature towards her children.

“You monster! Do you understand what you have unleashed upon this already evil driven world? I can’t believe I have to call you my son,” Constance shrieked, pulling her hand back and smacking Tate across the face. Violet flinched, her heart aching, wanting more than anything to pull the dumb bitch off of her true love…off of Tate. But doing that would reveal herself, and that was not what she wanted. They couldn’t know she was here.

She had expected her brave, no-bullshit Tate to fight back against his mother, but Tate had warned Violet before she had left him that she had turned him soft inside, something that no one had ever done before. She had brushed it off, but watching the old bat beat the shit out of her son made Violet realize that Tate hadn’t been joking around. He meant it. This time instead of pushing his mother away from him (which they all knew he was more than capable of doing) he sank to the floor, letting his mother kick him and punch him and hit him, crying his eyes out and sobbing “Mama,” quietly to himself. Violet let the tears fall down her face as she hurried up the wooden stairs leading down to the basement, choosing to appear again as she dashed up the stairs to her room.

“Violet?” her mother called worriedly.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Violet shouted back, slamming the door to her room and letting all her built up emotions out.

She had seen another side of Tate, a third one. Not homicidal and emotionless Tate, not darkly romantic and caring Tate, but a weaker side. One that revealed his true innocence that still remained inside him from dying at such a young age.

And that is how she ended up pressed against the wall of her room, shielding her face from the people that could potentially be watching her sob her eyes out. You never knew with that damned house.

Sniffling as she finished her sob-fest, she stood up and walked into the bathroom, reaching under the ceramic soap bowl to pull out a small, sharp piece of metal. She sat down on the edge of the tub and turned it over in her hands for a few moments.

“It’s actually quite unhealthy, you know. Self-mutilation. I read about it in my nursing school. Are you aware of the danger you are-“ a thin girl in a white (and unfortunately dark red) outfit started to lecture her. Violet glared up at her.

“Go away,” she growled. The medical student sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. It doesn’t matter anyway, now that we’re all dead,” the nurse sighed. Violet blinked once and when she looked again, the woman had disappeared. Standing up and walking over to the sink, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Ugly bitch. A voice whispered in the back of her head. Always fucking everything up.

Violet glared at herself in the mirror, frustrated with the never-ending self-deprecation that she had carried with her for as long as she could remember. Shaking her head, she raised the metal to her wrist and dragged it back, letting the blood drip down onto the sink with a relieved sigh. She had missed this.

“You promised,” a shaking voice whispered from behind her. She looked up to see Tate briefly in the mirror before he had disappeared.

“THIS IS BULLSHIT!” Violet screamed, throwing her razor down onto the floor in her anger. She collapsed onto the edge of the tub again, her face hot with anger.

She breathed heavily for a few minutes before calming down and picking her razor off of the floor, returning it to its original hiding spot under the soap holder. She looked at herself and sighed once, brushing her hair back behind her ears and turning around, walking out of the bathroom.

“Tate, I know you’re in here. We need to talk…” Violet whispered. The blonde, curly haired boy stepped out from the shadowed corner of her room.

“So let’s talk.”