6 // Suicide

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hello!! before i start the long awaited update (im a bad person sorry) id like to thank u guys for 901 reads!! thats not really that much but its like kinda sorta close to 1k which is super freaking cool. and this chapter could possibly be considered triggering. ok sorry ily here's the update ~

"Tate, my god, don't be stupid," Constance groaned, taking a seat in a broken chair in the basement, a yellow flickering light over her head.

"Well, Mother, I think I love her." She flinched at the sound of me calling her mother, every sound of the word dripping with hatred and sarcasm.

The red haired housemaid that Constance had shot, Moira, laughed coldly, her foggy eye staying still as the other rolled upward. "You know the living can't mingle with the dead, Tate. If that were the case, your mother would be one of us in five seconds flat."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I would do it myself if I could." Constance's jaw was tight and I knew we were pissing her off. Amazing.

"Well, if you're done here, Caspar The Friendly Ghost, I'll be on my way. Good luck with your little girlfriend, she'll end up dead because of you anyway." Constance left through the door in the basement, Moira vanishing along with her.

"Tate?" It was her. I turned to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, her long hair the color of autumn, her eyes the color of golden honey captured in the rays of a setting sun.

"Hey, Vi." I smiled at her, patting the open spot next to me on the basement floor. She walked over and sat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. We sat in silence for a bit, but after some time I felt wet tears falling on my shirt. "Hey," I whispered, tilting her head up to look at me, "what's wrong?"

Violet started to cry even harder. Her cold hands gripped onto me and she hid her face away in the folds of my shirt. "I don't wanna be here anymore, Tate. I'm so sick of this fucking shitty world."

"Hey, hey, woah. Don't go talking suicide on me. You aren't going anywhere."

She pushed up her sleeve to reveal her cut-littered wrists. I had seen her cut before, and I didn't have the balls to make myself known and tell her to stop. "This isn't enough anymore, Tate. I'm sawing my arm off, and for what? Some sick fucking notion that it's making everything ok?" She laid down in my lap, soft sobs leaving her lips. "I wanna die."

I stroked her hair and stayed silent, because I knew I couldn't say anything to make this better. She would get over it on her own.

After a while, Violet sat up, her red-rimmed eyes making the color in them pop more. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and smiled at me. "I'm feeling much better now, thank you." She stood up and walked upstairs.

I sat alone on the basement floor until a red ball rolled up and hit my shoe. "Hey, buddy." I turned in the direction it came from. "Wanna play?"

-/-

Some bitch at school gave me these pills that are supposed to help you sleep or some shit. Sitting on my bed now, I was glad I had them.

Twisting off the cap was a hard task, considering my hands were shaking so badly I could barely open a door. "C'mon, Violet." Finally, it popped off, silently landing on my bedspread.

I only took a few pills at first. One, two, three capsules dissapeared down my throat. Then it was five. Then it was nine. And then the bottle was empty. I felt myself drift into a sweet serenity.

Everything came rushing back full force as I sat up, wet, cold, and tired, coughing and vomiting at the same time. I turned around and saw Tate behind me, crying hard, and I started crying, too. I curled up to him in the bathtub, the shower dousing us continually. "Thank you," I whispered, hugging him tighter. "I'm feeling much better now."

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