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❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲. ❞
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𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝒋𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒌
❛ looking back at all those times we've had, sorry if i've ever made you sad❜
𝑅𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑆 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑆𝐶𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑌'𝑅𝐸 omnivorous and will feed off anything from small mammals to berries. Not only do they prey on those less powerful, but they take leftovers from other animal's hard work. Ravens float around death to survive, they feed off of tragedy to keep breathing.
Not all ravens are birds.
That raven that landed by the bodies of Rosemary's victims was feeding off of her despair. It could sense her intentions from a mile away and waited until the perfect moment to swoop down and take what was his.
The raven seemed nonchalant at first. It soared through the sky, appearing as graceful as the wind itself. No one, not even Rosemary, would think twice about a raven perching on a fence, watching, waiting, ready to take what doesn't belong to them. It doesn't deserve a second thought.
As Rosemary read more about ravens, the more she realized that Tate was not a ghost, he's a raven.
Ravens don't see that taking something that isn't theirs is wrong, it's their nature. Ravens don't see that killing for their own gain is wrong, it's in their nature. Tate took the lives of five teenagers because he believed he had to, it was in his nature. Rosemary did the exact same thing-- although, she regrets what she did. With her whole heart.
Tate too seemed like such a sweet boy, like the only person in the world Rosemary could ever relate to, could ever love. Tate was hiding in this aura of security, of safety, and Rosemary was let in. Everything was perfect and blissful, but of course, Rosemary isn't that lucky. The raven emerged and took the last good in her heart to help him survive.
Rosemary was sitting on her bed with her back against her headboard, continuing to read through the book of birds she had gotten from the library, solely focusing on ravens. Despite trying to distance herself from her own personal Satan, the one she feels so dearly drawn to, Rosemary too wanted to feel safe from herself. She had Tate's brown sweater with light stripes over her black shorts. She hated remembering this was his, but it was all that made her feel warm.
Thankfully, Rosemary wasn't bleeding anymore. The scratches on her face she inflicted upon herself were still very prominent, but no longer harmful. Her Tiffany lamp on her bedside table was the only light she had in her room, minus the bit of moonlight that shone through the window behind her.
"I like birds too." Rosemary looked up from her book and at Tate Langdon himself, who stood at the end of her bed. Rosemary said nothing, she simply stared at him with the same dead look he always seemed to have.
"Have you left your room? Has your family seen what you did?" Rosemary didn't want to talk about that. She didn't want to think about what her parents would say if they saw the scratches on her face, she didn't want to think about what assumptions Violet would make. She wanted to hide forever. Much like Tate.
"Why do you like birds?" Rosemary asked, not bothering to answer his question.
"'Cause they can fly away when things get too crazy, I guess. But have you shown your parents the...the..." Tate motioned to his own face, indicating the scratches, bringing up again the subject that Rosemary was trying to avoid. She figured he wasn't going to drop it, so she shook her head and explained, "I haven't left my room since yesterday when you left. It's almost been two full nights. I don't want them to see my face, but my parents just think I'm depressed."
"Are you?"
"I'm not happy."
"Me either." Rosemary looked back down at her book. She didn't want to relate to Tate, she didn't want to think like Tate, but she can't control that. She and Tate are two of the same and it was killing her.
"Rose." She was fighting off the urge to cry, even though her eyes were already tearing up. Rosemary sniffled before looking back up at Tate, but his mere presence was enough to make it so much more difficult to stop her tears. He continued, "You've changed towards me. You're distant, cold, angry. You threw a book at me. I don't know what I've done, but I'll leave you alone from now on if that's what you want."
Rosemary shook her head as she let out a small cry, her tears now running down her face. She looked down at her book again, but didn't read. Tate leaving was the last thing she wanted, but it's what she needed.
"Is that what you want?" Rosemary closed her eyes, a tear falling through her lashes.
"You know why I'd leave you alone? Because I care about your feelings more than mine...I love you." Rosemary's head shot up to look at Tate. "There, I said it-- and not just in some note. I would never let anybody or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone."
Rosemary cried, closing her book of birds and sat up straighter. She hated those three words, it made this real. Tate loves her, he has loved her since the moment she stepped onto the property of the murder house, but now she knew it. It only made Rosemary's self care much more difficult to maintain. In order for Rosemary to survive, she needed to get rid of Tate, but she just couldn't.
"Rose, I love you."
"Tate." Rosemary's voice was desperate, hurt, it only made Tate's no longer beating heart ache. He looked down at the ground with his face scrunched a moment, trying to make his own tears stop, but he really couldn't.
"Tate, I love you."
That caught his attention. Tate's heart would have skipped a beat if it could as he faced her once more. He could tell it pained Rosemary to say those words and continue on, "I hate it. I hate it so much. I don't want to love you, I wish I couldn't love you, but I do. I love you more than anything in this world. I don't love anything except for you. I love you, Tate. I love you."
Rosemary's emotions had only become more apparent as she continued to talk. She was crying more, she became far more desperate to have Tate with her, especially since she motioned for him to come closer.
Tate climbed over the bars at the foot of her bed and crawled across to her. Tate laid down next to her as Rosemary embraced him. She had her arm wrapped around Tate, holding his hand in front of him as her she hid and cried into his neck, "I killed them, Tate."
"I know. I still love you." Tate turned onto his back so that Rosemary could kiss him. It was filled with desperation and love as Rosemary cupped his face. She felt sick being with Tate, like she was a horrific, terrible person, but it was too the happiest Rosemary had ever been.
