Narcissistic Cannibal

“My dad wanted to see you, too, before you leave,” Violet spoke, Sophia standing up from her bed to head to her room for the night.

“Really?” Sophia asked, turning to face Violet, who was sitting hunched on her bed. “What about?”

“I'm not really sure. He asked me to tell you a while ago, two weeks almost but I couldn't find you until today. Plus I hadn't seen you in a while, I wanted to hang out first,” she lazily half smiled.

“Oh,” Sophia said, turning around though a question she had been pondering on and off since Ben had scared away her friends popped into her head. “Hey, Vi,” she turned back around once more.

“What's up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Sophia.

“Can I as you a question about your dad?”

“Sure,” she sat up straighter, ready for anything to be asked, really.

Sophia walked back to Violet's bed, sitting down again before asking, “Has your dad killed anyone...?”

“What?” Violet asked, actually shocked. “Why?”

“When he scared my friends off a few months back, two nurses appeared... and –”

“No, he didn't kill them. Some whack job serial killer did in the late sixties. Not my dad,” Violet smiled, almost proudly. “However, he did bury Hayden in the back yard under the gazebo he built when he was still alive. Hayden tried to convince me that he killed her to get rid of her but dad told me it was some creepy burned dude that used to follow him around, trying to blackmail him for the house. He eventually went to jail for murdering Travis, even though Hayden killed him.”

“Wh-what?” Sophia asked, taking in all the information provided to her. “Why does Travis fuck her then?” she asked, that being the only question she felt like asking, though she had quite a few.

“That's a question you should ask Travis. When you find out, tell me too. I kinda want to know myself,” Violet laughed despite the macabre subject.

“You won't find out for a while,” Sophia stood up again, “I hate that basement.”

“Me too. Night Sophie,” Violet said for the last time.

“Night,” Sophie spoke before walking out of the dark room, quietly closing the door behind her. She felt better now, about going to see Ben, after avoiding him for the past months because she believed him to have killed those two creepy nurses. Now she only believed that they were in on scaring her friends away.

She thought about this as she moved through the dark house, wishing for electricity in the place. She ended up in front of Ben and Vivien's bedroom door still, knowing her way around at least the top floors by now, even in the dark.

She hesitantly knocked, knowing that it was well past midnight, due to an old alarm clock running on batteries in Violet's room. After a moment the door opened, revealing a dark silhouette of which could only be Ben. “Sophia,” his voice confirmed her suspicions, with a smile added. “Finally.”

“Sorry it's been so long,” she spoke, not wanting to go into details about thinking he was a murderer.

“That's fine, come in,” he held the door open for her before walking to the bedside table, lighting a few candles there for light. “Viv's in the nursery right now with our baby, so it's just us.”

“Okay... well Violet told me you wanted to see me. Sorry it's kind of late.”

“Don't apologize, at least you came,” Ben spoke, silently offering for Sophia to take a seat on the bed. She did so without question, though became confused when Ben stayed standing in front of her.

“I wanted to talk to you about Tate,” Ben spoke, using that same voice that he had when he first met Sophia, making her feel like she was sitting in the principal's office once again.

“What about him?” Sophia dared to ask.

“It's worrisome to see you hang around with him so often...” Ben began, making Sophia's eyebrow raise in the dancing candlelight.

“I haven't hardly seen him these past few weeks... not since Valentine's Day.” Sophia's words stopped Ben as he began to slowly pace in front of her. For a fleeting moment she wondered if the holiday meant anything to him.

“What did you do on Valentines day?” he questioned, staring her down.

“Why?” she asked, feeling small, but Ben only waited for her to answer his question. “We just talked really. He woke me up and gave me a flower from the back yard, because he didn't want me to feel sad about my friends... Is that bad?”

“No. No it's just that... you hanging around him is bad I guess. I don't know,” Ben spoke, rubbing his forehead, as if he were trying to describe something in a foreign language he barely knew.

“I don't understand why. He's only ever been nice to me,” Sophia protested.

“I understand that, but you have to understand me, Sophia. Tate is not a nice person,” Ben explained simply, but Sophia didn't understand, and stated exactly that.

“I don't understand.”

“It... just bothers me to see you two hang around together. You're a good girl and he's... he's something else entirely. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be friends with him.”

“But you're friends with Tate,” Sophia pointed out. She had heard Tate refer to Ben as his other friend multiple times before in conversations, and just figured their friendship was just a bit complicated, especially when Vivien and Violet didn't seem to like Tate. She didn't understand that either.

“I'm not friends...” Ben spoke with slight exasperation. “I'm not technically... He's just not as destructive when he has somebody to talk to. I used to be his therapist –”

“Ben, you aren't nearly old enough to have been his therapist,” Sophia stated, remembering that Tate would be thirty-six, nearly thirty-seven coming in March.

“I was when my family first moved into this house. He was my first patient. He thought he was alive, or pretended to be alive. I'm not sure when or if he found out about his death. If I had been his therapist before he died though, he'd probably still be alive. The thing is, Sophia. He's an angry person. I still talk with him sometimes to help him through some minor things. He's not as angry or hateful when he's got someone to talk to.” At the end of Ben's explanation, Sophia was shocked. The way he spoke about Tate, not only made her believe that she now had to stay friends with Tate to make him happy, but also made her believe that he had committed suicide. Tate never seemed like that kind of angry person when she was around him. Maybe Ben was afraid that Tate would hurt her, but Sophia new that she could help Tate by being a better friend to him than she already was.

“Just know, Sophia,” Ben continued after letting Sophia soak his words in, “Whatever you need you can get from myself, my wife or Violet. I don't mean to replace your real father, but I like to think of myself as a father figure to you. And I know Vivien's already taken you under her wing. I just don't want to see you hurt. Alright?”

“Alright,” Sophia agreed, standing up from the bed. Ben placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently with a smile.

“Thank you for considering my words,” he spoke, before leading her back to the door. “Goodnight Sophia.”

“Night Ben,” she said back, waving as he shut the door behind her. Sophia felt as if she walked away from the room with a new purpose. She would make Tate happier, show Ben Harmon that she could handle Tate, and everyone would be happy.

Sophia quickly made her way back to her room, not exactly shocked by Tate when he was laying in her makeshift bed, but his mood did shock her.

“What's wrong?” She immediately asked, not needing much light to see the frown over his lips. Sophia shut the door behind her and slowly sat down next to him when he sat up.

Tate was silent for a moment before saying, “Ben wants you to stop taking to me.” Sophia's heart fell when she heard how upset he sounded. She knew Tate didn't have many friends, none besides her that were real now. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I don't. Why were you eavesdropping on us?” Sophia asked him, unable to get him to directly look at her.

“You weren't in your room and I didn't hear anything in Violet's room so I checked Ben and Vivien's room, and I heard him talking to you about me,” Tate admitted. “He said he wanted you to leave me alone because I'm not a good person.”

Though it was dark, Sophia still thought she could hear him crying from an inner rage, feeling betrayed by both her and Ben. “Well I'm not going to,” Sophia stated strongly, slowly rubbing his back with her right hand, continuing to stare at his face through the veil of shadows covering them.

“You're not?” Tate asked, sounding shocked, and finally looked over to her.

“No. The way I see it, I'm a shitty friend. If Ben wants to keep you happy I need to be a better friend to you, not ignore you. I don't think I could ignore you even if I wanted to. I like you too much,” Sophia admitted with a smile.

“Really?” Tate sniffled, most anger gone from his voice. Now he sounded hopeful.

“Really,” Sophia confirmed. “I'm not going anywhere,” she said, leaning into him, letting him hug her. They were silent for a while, relishing Tate's relief before Sophia mustered up the courage to ask him a question.

“Tate,” she spoke quietly through the darkness, moving out of his hug so she could look at him again.

“Yeah Sophie?” he responded.

“Why did you kill yourself?”

Tate was stumped, never having been asked that question before, simply because he didn't commit suicide. “Did Ben tell you that?” He asked, just to play it safe before he gave a response.

“Ben told me that if he was your therapist when you were alive... that you'd still be alive,” Sophia informed.

“Life... just wasn't worth all the shit any more,” Tate deceivingly lied to her, feeling slightly guilty for doing it. He laid down in her makeshift bed then, Sophia following him, laying on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her, like usual.

“How?” she asked, even quieter.

“Shot myself,” he spoke without hesitation. “In the heart.”

“Why the heart?”

“Because if I shot myself in the head there'd be a gaping hole in my head like Nora. I didn't want that. The heart was just more... poetic. I guess it wouldn't matter anyways though, I'm one of the few normal looking ghosts.”

Sophia felt tears come to her eyes at Tate's false explanation of how he died, quickly moving to kiss his chest over where his heart would reside in his ribs. “Who else is like that?” She questioned once her lips left the fabric over his chest, resting her chin there instead.

“Moira, for one. My mom shot her in the eye. It's clouded but there's not this grotesque hole in her head. Hayden's head was bashed in by my mom's former 'lover',” Tate spoke, using air quotes as he sometimes did. “But she looks normal. I dunno, there's a few of us.”

“Guess I'm lucky I suffocated then, huh?” Sophia joked morbidly.

“Yeah, you got to keep your pretty face, but you'll forever smell like spent, wet firewood,” Tate teased her.

“Really?” Sophia asked, moving to smell her arm, but didn't notice any difference in how she usually smelled.

“Really. It's kind of odd but I like it now. It's a good smell to be stuck with,” Tate told her, hugging her closer to him.

“Spent, wet firewood?” she asked, snuggling into him as he pulled her closer, content with him sleeping in her room that night. “You should have your nose checked out.”