The Sister {violate}

C3: Meeting Taylor.

This chapter is about Tate finally meeting the twin he never knew about. I'm basing her off of Emma. (:

    We stood on the front step of Murder House. The night before Vi insisted we introduce ourselves. She knew who I was though.  Violet grabbed my hand, reassuring me that all was going to be okay. I watched her hand raise to the door. 'Knock,knock'

    I watched the door handle turn, and saw the face behind it. I almost felt like I was looking at a female version of myself. The same blue/green eyes. Though he hair was longer it was the same shade and the same waves. She had Constances nose, the same warm smile as my dad.

     "Tate?" She wrapped her arms around me. "I thought I'd never ever meet you."

        No words came to mind. I stood there frozen. Thoughts of anger and resentment came to mind. Constance, that nasty good-for-nothing liar. If she ever stepped back in this house she would die here.

      "Let go." Violet said pushing back on the woman.

     "Oh." She pulled away. Violet saw the anger in my face. My knuckles were white from being clenched so tight.

     "He never knew did he." Taylor stared at her feet. "That vile woman never told him." 

     At that moment I saw her face, my anger mirrored in hers, I knew. Not a single doubt. That this girl, is my twin sister.

      "Tate, let's go inside." Violet grabbed my hand. As we headed for the kitchen, I felt all tension release. My hatred didn't fade, but my anger did.

    She lit a cigarette. Almost simultaneously, Vi and I asked for one.

     "So you already know what we are?" Violet questioned as she lit the cigarette.

    "Well. I suppose. I know what happened to Tate, and I know he's stuck here. But who are you?" She questioned the beautiful blonde next to me.

     "I'm Violet Harmon." She smiled at my twin. "I died here too."

      "Are you Tates girlfriend?" She asked.

     Violet and I shared a sad look, and the room fell awkwardly silent.

     "Mommy, I cleaned my woom." The little one ran in here. Golden locks bouncing around her chubby cheeks. "Tate!" She came and hugged me.

        "You met Caroline? " Taylor questioned me.

     "Yeah, when you where signing papers yesterday. I don't know how she could see me." I lifted her on to the chair next to me. "This house isn't safe, you know."

      "It is for us. I promise you." The little version of Taylor smiled.

    "How old is she? She has great speech for being as little as she is." Vi asked.

      "She's three. But she's very special. She's an indigo child. She sees the world different then we do. She can see hurt and anger with just a glance. She can predict a person's mind. When we were picking a house. She pointed here and said your brother is in there." So we stopped and I researched the house. When I saw your face on the memorial website. We had to move here." Taylor made a small smile. "Why did you do those things, Tate?"

      "He was sad mommy. But he's never told anyone that."

      "Listen sweetie. Why don't you go play in room for awhile." Taylor smiled at the girl. She obliged and ran off giggling.

       "Tate are you ok?" Violet asked me. I wasn't but I couldn't voice it. I held onto the seat and put my head on the table as uncontrollable sobs came out. Violet held me tightly. Shushing me, telling,me it was okay.

     "Violet, I'm going to go finish unpacking." I heard footsteps walk away.

        "Tate, it's okay." Violet stroked my hair.

     "NO! Its not." Impulse made me grab the table and flip it. "I'm a MONSTER." I fell onto the floor and slammed my fists down. I could here Violet kneel in front of me. She lifted up my face holding my face in her palms.

     "Tate, I love you." She pulled my face into her neck. "I love you so much."

       "Do you forgive me.?" I cried.

       "You know I can't yet." Vi whispered."I want to. But I need to know you won't do those things again."

     

     The night was a quiet one. Taylor and Violet discussed something alone, and by the end of the night, mine and Violets room had a bed, a bookshelf and a radio in it. We had reached the point of barely more then just friends holding each other into sleep.

    Niether of us need sleep, being dead. I think she likes it, because that's the tiny bit of life she can still have.