Romantic Diversity

Chapter Eleven (Tate)

I roam the basement, dragging my hand across the wall. I feel the texture of it as my fingers roll over the bumps and curves. I think about Kyle, about when he'll come back. I want him back, I want his lips, I want his skin, I want him. I turn a corner when I see a figure sitting in a chair, smoking.

"Why, hello Tate," he sucks in the smoke and releases, "Long time, no see." I stand frozen, unable to speak.

"How," I choke, "how are you here, James?" he rises from the chair and walks towards me.

"There was this Supreme back in New Orleans who came up with a spell to let me roam. It only works for about a day," he puffs smoke up to the ceiling.

"Why would she let you out of the hotel?"

"I, James Patrick March, can convince anyone to do anything," he chuckles.

"Where were you?"

"Places," he paces around the room.

"Why did you just leave me?" My hands begin to shake.

"My boy, I was never yours to leave," he sits back in the chair, "You were, an experiment in a way. I'd never been with a man before. I wanted to see how it felt," he pauses, "and I felt nothing."

"So I was what? A pet?"

"Yes," he jumps from his chair, "a pet..." his lip quivers and it raises his mustache. 

"What are you doing here?" Tears begin to well up in eyes.

"Well, I want you back as my... pet, as you put it."

"Why would I do that?" I walk towards him, "I'm in love," he chuckles.

"Oh Tate, love? There's no love for you, even from me," I sink to the ground and begin to cry.

"You don't know shit," I bury my face in my hands. He bends down so he's level with me.

"You would come back to me because you know I'm the only one who accepts you for what you are, "I lift my head up, "You and I, we're alike. We both are mass killers and psychopaths," tears are streaming down my face.

"No I'm not, I'm nothing like you," my body trembles, "I have feelings, unlike you."

"Here's the thing, Tate," he blows smoke in my face, "There are two types of psychopaths. There are some like me who are completely aware of their insanity and accept it," he smirks, proud of who he is, but then his face gets hard, "And then there's you, who isn't aware of their insanity and they can't accept it. You can't accept that you're a killer and no one will ever love you for it."

"That's what you think," I wipe away my tears.

"Maybe, but you'll understand one day and once you do," he get's really close to my face, "You'll come running back, Pet," and then he's gone, leaving me in the shadows with the darkness surrounding me.