Countless Days

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-Tate's P.O.V-
It hurts. It hurts so much. All I can do is watch. Watch her move on in that house with her family, stuck in time as I am. I miss her so much. I can't even get her to look at me anymore. I can't sleep at night anymore knowing that she doesn't want to be with me. All I ever wanted was her, all I ever needed was her. She changed me to be better, to be more loving. She calmed down the anger I held inside of me and now that she's gone, I have nothing and no one. Forever trapped here to watch her carry on being happy for eternity. Violet broke my heart and nothing can ever mend it.
I now stand here peering in to their living room window. I see Ben putting up new wallpaper whilst Vivian holds the ladder still for him. Both occasionally smiling at each other with a loving passion. Like how me and Violet use to look at each other. Down on the floor, kneeling over a small baby which was laying on a rug, was Violet. Without hearing her, I knew she was doing baby talk to the baby whilst smiling away without a care in the world. Violet's hair fell perfectly either side of her face. I always remember it being so soft as I'd sometimes like to play with it, if she'd let me.
"When are you going to stop creeping on her?" I heard a female voice from behind me. I knew who it was so I didn't turn around or even reply to her. "Can you not see, Tate? She's over you. That's what happens unfortunately in some break ups." she continued.
"No." I replied. "She still loves me, I know she does. She just can't forgive me."
"For what? For raping her mother?" she laughed. I turned my head to the right and saw she was standing beside me, now looking into the house with me.
"I don't see how that's funny, Hayden." I said sternly, looking back into the house. I could see at the corner of my eye, Hayden looking at me and smirking.
"You can't just hang around and stare at her all day waiting. You gotta move on. Or you'll be lonely for the rest of eternity." she spoke. I carried on looking at Violet, watching her gently play around with the baby. After a few seconds, Hayden spoke again. "You know," she started. I felt her hand come to mine and her fingers wrap around mine. "me and you could just spend eternity together." she whispered, moving in closer. I turned to face her and pulled my hand out of her and nudged her away.
"No, Hayden." I spoke straight.
"Oh come on, that little shit doesn't want you anymore and I'm here to take you up." sexualised Hayden, walking closer to me again, attempting to put her hand on me. I pushed her back away from me.
"Hayden I said no. We've been through this before! I'm in love with Violet." I ended, turning back to face the window again.
"Pfft. Shithead." I heard Hayden mumble as she barged past me and walked away. I didn't hesitate to turn to watch her leave but kept my eyes locked on Violet. I knew I didn't deserve her forgiveness, but that's all I wanted. I wanted her to be in my arms again and telling me that she loves me so I can say it back. I could feel tears filling up in my eyes as old memories haunted my mind.

-Effy's P.O.V-
"I can't believe you, why are you selling things without telling me? Our bed? Our oven? Our car!? What's gotten in to you!?"
"This is the only way we are keeping the rent low for this house and saving for the new one, the more rent we pay the more money we are going to lose for our new home!"
"Well you could of at least asked about this instead of selling what we need most! Where are we going to sleep?"
"The couch for now!"
"Oh yeah? How are we going to cook?"
"We'll have to order cheap take away's for now, Rose!"
"That's still money, Lawrence! And how the hell are we getting to work now? Hm?"
"Rose, please.."
"No, not now Lawrence, I'm so pissed off with you right now." This happened a lot in this house. My parents always argued over stupid things but this time, my dad really did piss my mom off. They didn't even notice me standing here from the top of the stairs on the balcony looking down at them in the kitchen with a Stephen King book in my hand. Infact, my parents didn't pay a lot of attention to me. I don't know, I guess it was because I wasn't like all the other kids around here. I watched my mom walk off and lock herself in the downstairs toilet, probably going to be crying in there for at least three hours, then watched my dad grab his pack of cigarettes and flee for the front door. I then turned myself around and headed back towards my bedroom, where I spent most of my life. I opened the door and stood in the doorway and revealed my pretty much empty, bedroom. I only had what I really needed which was my bed, desk, wardrobe and a tall bookshelf filled with many horror and creepy books. My walls were painted black along with my black carpet and curtains. My bed covers were a deep shade of violet and the entire room was neat and tidy since I got bored often and just felt the need to clean all the time. On my wardrobe door was a long mirror. I went over to it and what stood before me was my abnormal reflection. I had longish, dyed red hair with a full fringe, pale porcelain skin and bright green eyes. Around my eyes would always be a thick layer of black eyeshadow and around my lips would either be black or red lipstick. And I would always be dressed in black, never colour. I was into goth and grunge music and loved horror movies and books. That doesn't sound that weird does it? Well I had a love for the supernatural and the dead. Everything about it fascinated me so much that I became obsessed. I guess that's why I was always known to be a weird child. I loved reading news articles about murder and serial killers as well, something in my mind must of snapped, as my parents have told me, for me to have a strong interest in this stuff and recently I had picked up on a new, new for me, article.
I stopped staring in the mirror and went over to my desk which had my laptop closed on. I lifted the laptop screen and saw it was still left on what I was reading, something which I had never heard of before but brought my attention. An article about the famous 'Murder House'.

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