You'll Be The Death Of Me

Violet Part 2

So... yeah. My experience with boyfriends aren't great. In fact, the whole series of events that happened those few years ago are why I'm a sad, suicidal teenager who hates human interaction.

Whenever people brush past me at school, my skin crawls and my body shivers and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to rid my mind of the horrible images. I like to see the pitch blackness from the back of my eyelids; it calms me.

I wrap my thin jacket tightly to my body and try to battle against the cold of December. What's worse is that I think it might start to snow. I like snow and I like Christmas, but I can't stand the cold.

I think back to the boy. When he touched my arm, I didn't shrivel away. When his eyes contacted mine, I didn't look away. Eye contact and hands grabbing me make me want to... to crawl into a ball and welcome the darkness. But with Tate, it felt right. Not exactly safe, but I feel like if he can hold me, and no one else can, then that must mean something. It has to... doesn't it? Or do I just want it to?

"Violet!" I hear a yell and I recognise the voice. I don't know how; I've only heard it a few times. But I know it's that boy. I can't believe I don't even know his name, yet I feel strangely attracted to him.

I look back and, sure enough, there's the boy with the messy blonde hair and the dark eyes dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black top.

"Hello?" I call, awkwardly.

"Hello!" He jogs up to where I am standing. He has a brilliant grin on his face.

"Did you, er, want something?" I ask, rubbing my crossed arms to try and generate warmth.

"Well, you said we should hang out sometime. Why not now?" He asks.

"Okay, well... Look, I don't even know your name and I don't know why you're taking such an interest in me. Is this some dare? Did the assholes at school put you up to this?" My heart thuds waiting for the answer.

His smile falls.

"Violet, I don't know what made you think that... but I'm not like the others. I'm different. In, er, a lot of ways. I guess that's why I'm interested in you..." he pulls his shirt sleeves over his hands and looks down at them, "... because you're different, too."

He looks me in the eye as he says those last words. I feel the blood running through my veins quicken and my pulse more frequent.

"What's your name?"

"Tate."

I chuckle lightly, not breaking eye contact.

"That's a nice name." I pause. "Do you want to come to mine?" I say, softly.

"Sure." He grins.

As we walk up together, the silent not awkward but not comfortable either, I feel a cold, welcoming hand nudge mine and I slip into its' hold.