sunnuntai 13. joulukuuta 2015
Psycho – Chapter 2
Beautifully broken soul
The whole next week we spend on my room. Tate would come in on the morning and leave when the sun sets. We talked for hours.
"I don't understand mom. Maybe she just doesn't care anymore." I say angrily. I told Tate pretty much everything. He listens everything with the same sad expression. "But I still love her. How messed up that is?"
"I can't tell you by my experience, but I'd say that it's pretty normal."
"How is your mother-son relationship?" I ask interested.
"Well, there isn't any. She's a cocksucker. My dad left me with a cocksucker." Tate says angrily. I took Tate's hand and hold it in my tiny ones.
"Life is what it is. We can't chose our cards, life chooses them for us. Like my sickness, I didn't ask for it. Neither did you choose your mother. We just have to manage with the cards we got." I say looking at Tate's hand in my lap smiling. Tate is quiet for a while so I look up to him. Tears run down his cheeks. I wipe them with my hand and smile to him. He smiles too and looks deep into my eyes.
"Have anyone ever said that you are beautiful? Your soul is the most kindest I've ever known." I blush to his words and he laughs a little.
"No, no one." I say still blushing.
"I don't know what kind of sickness you have but that won't change my opinion on you. I promise."
"I hope so." I say too quiet for Tate to hear it. At least I hope so.
I'm eating breakfast Tate sitting beside me.
"You should eat more." Tate says looking at my cup.
"Says the one without breakfast." I laugh.
"I already ate. Besides a cup of coffee isn't really a breakfast."
"Are you my nutritionist or something?" I ask giving Tate a meaningful glare.
"I'm just worried about you." he protests. When I'm just quiet he continues.
"Yesterday you didn't eat any warm food."
"For you to know, I'm bad at cooking."
"I can cook for you." Tate says getting exited.
"Fine I guess..." I say hesitating. When was the time to eat, Tate started to make me a meal.
"You really don't have to do this." I mumble.
"Yes, I do. And I do it gladly." he smiles at me not leaving any room for arguments. I stayed quiet.
"What do you want to eat?" Tate asks.
"Can you do spaghetti bolognese or something?"
"Let me see... That's fine. Wait for a minute." he hums looking trough the fridge and shelfes, looking for ingredients. I wait patiently as he makes the dinner.
"So... Do you usually make food for yourself?" I ask as I look at Tate.
"Sometimes yes, my mother isn't really a housewife. Or a mother."
"I'm sorry. You must have been really lonely." I say leaning over to the chair.
"Yeah, something like that." He says looking very sad. I get up and go to hug him from behind.
"Remember that you're not alone." I whisper. We stood there silently. Tate made the food as I cling on to him.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't have the right to..." I slowly take my hands from him.
"No. Please stay." He tooks my hand on his to keep me in place. He takes my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. I blush and press my head on his back. But suddenly he diverges from me.
"What's wrong?" I ask worried. He just shooks his head. I went back to the chair. My chest feels heavy. When Tate finished he took the plate in front of me.
"I have to go." He said and left. I try not to be bothered about it and I took one shaky forkful. It's good. Tears start to run down my cheeks to the plate. I don't have the appetite to finish. I took the plate and took it to the fridge.
That night I didn't sleep much. But when I could sleep, I had nightmares.
"Dad, don't leave me." I whimper in my sleep. I wake up sweating bullets. I cried that night a lot. When the morning come, there were no sign of Tate. And not in the next morning either. Or the day after that. For a week Tate didn't come back. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. Mom wasn't home and even if she was she wouldn't care less. The voices mocked me. You should just kill yourself, no one misses you. Not Tate. Not your mother. If you were dead you would finally be happy. End this already. No one cares about you. You were too clingy. No one likes you. Everyone hates you. Shut up! I cry out. I can't do this. Not anymore. No one cares. Tate never liked me that way. He probably has someone already. He's handsome. It would be weird if he didn't have a girlfriend. I look at myself at the mirror. My mind screams me to do it. End this all. I don't feel anything anymore. I feel empty inside. Complately alone. I'm pathetic. I know that and still... I took the razor on my tiny hand. Maybe the world didn't just need me. Maybe life wasn't for everyone. Where would I cut? I was about to cut my wrist when a hand behind me took the razor.
"Don't." A soft voice said to my ear.
"Why?" Was the only thing I could ask. Why now?
"Hailey, it's not your time yet." he says now holding me.
"But Tate, I don't belong in here. No one needs me."
"I need you." Tate said holding me tighter.
"B-But you left me. I..."
"Shh... It's alright. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere." he says putting the razor down. He tooks me into my room and to my bed. We sit there in silence. I can hear Tate's breath.
"How do we continue from this?" I ask my voice shaky.
"We will continue like before. And if you like... We could be more?"
"Are you okay with that? I'm not forcing you or anything?"
"Of course it's okay. You're not forcing me on anythig. I want this. You just... Have to know some things before we can continue." I tensed up.
"... Okay..." I say with a quiet voice.
"Before I met you, I fell in love with a girl. We dated and everything was perfect... until she died."
"She killed herself, Hailey. And I was the reason she did it."
"I'm sorry..." I say as I understand how Tate must feel right now. Tears starts to fill my eyes.
"Shh... It's alright. You didn't do it. I stopped you. You just have to promise me not to do that ever again." Tate says seriously.
"I promise." I say tears still on my eyes.
"Good." Tate says.
"Do you want to lay down?"
"Okay..." I say and we lay down. We lay there in silence. Tate strokes my head. And just like that, I fall into a dreamless sleep.