hold me really tight (until the stars look big) - I

Part I
Part II


Tate

This isn't like him. He isn't a killer. He isn't a killer. He keeps repeating it in his head, a mantra to keep himself calm as he holds the struggling girl to the ground. She pleads, soft, high-pitched please don't please don't please don't I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't do it please don't do it I'm so sorry please don'ts, scared, frightened—
She's just a child. Her early twenties, tops. Younger than Macy had been.
His thoughts of Macy fuel his rage again, and he firmly holds the knife in his hand as he dangles it over the girl's body, his choked breathing coming quicker now. He contemplates, tossing it back and forth between his hands to build the suspense a little longer, but eventually decides a quick end is in order.
While his victim cries softly, he slits her throat with barely any finesse.

For Macy.

you're so good you're so good you're so good you're so good i'm so embarassed i'm so bad oh gods

Jael

Her eyes are wide, her grip on her phone loosens and the thing falls on the ground with a dry sound, that echoes through the empty street. The whimpering sounds of the young girl on the ground die down as the ringing in Jael's ears grows louder and louder until she is alone with her terrified mind.
She takes a step back. Mistake. She needs to get away as quickly as possible, but her feet are frozen to the ground now.
She just witnessed a girl being murdered. A throat being slit.
No. It has to be a bad dream. A really bad dream, a bad dream that seems to real. To be a dream.
Finally she bents over, snatching her phone from the ground, but it falls again, for she doesn't have any control over her trembling fingers. The cops. She needs to call the police. Someone.

ty ty

Tate

He hears the sharp intake of breath before anything else; He knows what shock sounds like, he knows how your throat closes up and the air just stops—
He looks right, sees nothing.
Left. A girl. She drops things and stumbles and falls and tries to get up and Tate can't do anything but stare and think I'm not a murderer I'm not a murderer I'm not a murderer she thinks I'm a murderer she thinks I'm a murderer I'm not a murderer.
He doesn't realise he's saying it out loud until he chokes on his own words. He runs towards the small frame of the girl on the ground and tries to help her, silence her, do something—anything.
"I'm not a murderer," he whispers, "I know what you think you saw but I'm not a murderer." He doesn't let her say anything, just keeps talking as he drags her up. "It had to be done. I'm not a murderer."




edit: i just reread and saw i misread what you wrote. i thought jael had fallen over while in fact it was only her phone. this is why tate drags her up. i decided to keep it that way, because its a minor detail, but i will edit it if this corrupts your plans for your part in any way.

it's okay, i'll get over it. ;p

Jael

Her scream fails; she only manages to cringe and squeal when he drags her to her feet. In her eyes is a pleading wish: Don't kill me. And fear. So much fear. She wouldn't have guessed a human being can be so scared as she is now. Her heart is racing as if it would stop within a few minutes, she's trembling and can't stand on her own feet. He's still holding the knife.
He's still holding the knife.
It's covered in blood and when she sees it flicker in the dim street light she gags. Oh God, please let someone come around the corner and see me. Please send someone to save me.
She's going to die. It's only then she realizes he keeps talking, keeps whispering, choking on his words, his eyes full of disbelief, full of... fear...?

Tate

"I'm not going to kill you," he says. "I'm not going to kill you, just—you need to come with me. You really need to come with me right now." He looks around searchingly, looking for people, more people that saw (He's not a murderer he's not a murderer he really isn't he just had to, he just had to—they did this to him, too, they did this to him, they turned him into this.) but he can't find anyone. He pushes her into the car and locks it while he goes to retrieve the body. The girl, unsurprisingly, still lays in her own puddle of blood.
He opens the door and throws the body next to the quivering girl on the backseat.

Jael

She can't even protest when he pushes her into the car. Her voice cracked somewhere along the way and she can't manage words at all. Her eyes are still wide with shock and it gets worse as she turns her head and sees the body of the murdered girl.
She crawls to the far corner of the backseat and closes her eyes, hoping this all was just a bad dream. A really bad dream. Please, let it be a bad dream. Please.
It isn't. She feels it when he starts the car. She hears it when he pushes the gas pedal to drive away. And then she loses the fight against her tears and quietly starts to sob.

Tate

It wasn't supposed to go like this. It wasn't supposed to go like this at all. All he wanted was revenge: Tina for Macy; a sister for a sister. Macy was twenty-three and young and passionate about stupid, small things like flowers and rainbows and smiles of strangers, she believed in true love and meant-to-be and everything-has-a-reason and everyone-can-be-saved. She worked in a small roadside shop and drove home every night in a black Audi and cooked for her boyfriend Neil and then one time she didn't. One time she didn't make it to her car, because someone took her and someone killed her: Slit her throat open just for the fun of it, just for kicks and left behind burned remnants of a house, left behind bones to bury and a little girl to grieve, left nothing but pain in his wake.
Tate had tracked him, had looked into the police files and found out who it was and then, then he had looked him up on fucking Facebook. And the little bastard had a sister, Tina, and although he didn't particularly have an opinion about little Tina (twenty-one and single, pretty, but not outstandingly pretty, nothing you'd think twice about), he did have an opinion about Tina's brother. And Tina's brother was a dick. And if Tate had to lose his sister, so did the guy that was responsible for it.
He parks in front of the woods first, turns around. "I'm not going to hurt you," he tells the girl. "But I'm going to have and search you for your phone or anything you can use to escape. Then, I'm going to lock you in this car while I bury the girl somewhere. When I come back, I'm going to use a cloth to cover your eyes so you can't see where we're going, and I'm going to take you to my house. You will not talk, you will not cry, you will not make any fucking sound, unless I directly ask you a question. Is that clear?"

Jael

She stares at him, not able to speak. Silently she reaches out her phone to him, hands trembling. Tears are streaming, in spite of how hard she fights them. She wants to beg him to let her go, promise him she'll never tell, but he has been clear. She swallows hard, refusing to glance at the body next to her. If I don't end up dead now, I will in the future, she realizes and that makes it all worse.

Tate

He puts her phone away. "Empty your pockets."

Jael

She takes out her house keys and her lipstick and her purse and God, what more, she doesn't even realize. She presses her lips together and tries to think.

Tate

He backs off slowly, opens the door and takes out the lifeless body of Tina Brown. When he locks the door, he taps the window twice and puts his finger against his lips. Not a sound, he mouths.

Jael

When he's gome, she presses her hands against her face and surpresses the urge to scream and scream until her throat is sore. Her heart is racing, her ears ringing.

Tate

He comes back when he buried Tina, the girl still in his car. She looks frightened. He never meant to frighten her. She was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. She wasn't supposed to see, or to hear, or to actually have anything to do with this. She is innocent. He tells himself that as he crawls into the car again, he keeps telling himself that when he shoots her a pointed look. When he pulls a bloodied cloth (he cut it off from Tina's shirt) out of his back pocket, all he can think is: She didn't ask for any of this.

Jael

In spite of his warnings, she glances at him and says, her voice shaking: "If you let me go, I won't tell anyone…" She looks at him, desperate, frightened, pleading.

Tate

He sighs. "Was I not clear?" The thrill of the night starts to get to him, his rage burning inside him like the fire that took his childhood home when he was sixteen. "Was I not fucking clear?"

Jael

Tears start coming again. She wants to be quiet, but she can't. "Please," she whispers, begging. She regrets it the moment she sees the amger in his eyes.

Tate

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he mutters angrily as he leans forward to tie the blood-drenched cloth in front of her face. He uses the rope on the passenger seat to tie her hands together quickly, binding them to her knee so she can't pull them up.
He feels bad, kind of, because he's sure all her senses are being invaded by the sharp, coppery stench of blood.
It's for her own good, he tells himself, although he can't pinpoint why it would be.

Jael

The intense smell of blood makes her gag as she chokes on her tears. Now it's not only her hands shaking, but her entire, fragile body. She presses her lips together and stays silent, as silent as she can manage.

Tate

He parks in front of his house a while later, having taken a lot of turns and shortcuts and different ways to confuse the girl. He couldn't risk her remembering the way to where he lived.
"We're here," he says. "I'm going to take you inside and then we can get that thing off of you and clean you up a bit."

Jael

She doesn't answer. Of course she doesn't. Her cheeks and neck are wet with tears and she swallows hard. Be calm. Be calm, be calm, be calm.
Do not panic.
Her parents. Her friends. Her dog. Her home. She just knows she'll never see them again.

Tate

He brings her inside and locks everything.
The girl is petite, she would fit Vicki's clothes easily, so he puts her on the kitchen chair and takes off the blindfold. "I'll be right back," he says.
Not even thirty seconds later he comes back with clean clothes. "You can take a shower if you want," he offers.

Jael

She has to squint her eyes to get used to the lights. She quietly shakes her head, not really hearing what he says. Her breathing is shallow, as if she'll collapse in a minute. She's not far from it.

Tate

He wants to touch her, make her comfortable. He never meant for her to feel like he was going to kill her too. He's not a killer. He's not a goddamn killer.
He shakes her, thoroughly. "Are you listening to me?"

Jael

She looks him in the eyes, but her gaze is glassy. "Why…?" she breathes. "Why would… you do such a-a thing…?" She tries to remain calm, but she can't.

Tate

"It was necessary," he explains, calmly. "She—she was revenge. Her brother—did some stuff. Some fucked up stuff. And—he had to pay. She was the payment."

Jael

She shakes her head in disbelief. No one deserved what he did to that girl. No one. Ever.
"A-and… are you going to kill me now… too…? Can't you… bring me h-home…? I pro… promise I won't tell… anyone… I promise, I promise," she pleaded. Her face was sickly pale.

Tate

"No, no!" he says, immediately. "I'm not--I'm not a killer. I'm not going to kill you, I promise. I just--I need to figure out what to do with you. You've seen too much, I can't just let you go. Until then, you're staying."
He gives her Vicki's clothes. "These are for you. Take a shower, you smell bad. Report back in the kitchen after you're done."

Jael

She just sits there, staring at him, the fresh, clean clothes clenched in her hands. She doesn't trust her legs, and she sure as hell doesn't trust him. "Why do you… keep saying that…? You took her life… That makes you… a killer… a murderer…" She's not sure wether this will anger him, but at this point she can't care.

Tate

He decides he isn't going to spend more time explaining it to her; She's clearly in shock, not getting it—not getting that he isn't a murderer. He pats on the clothes and gives her a pointed look. "I'll bring you to the bathroom."

Jael

She somehow manages to scramble to her feet, pressing the clothes to her chest.  She follows him, though she's still in a daze, absolutely sure he'll somehow kill her that night, or the night after that. Maybe he'll drown her in the bathtub someday, or slit her throat just like he slit hers...
Tears come again. She tries to wipe them away, but when she looks at her sleeve it's not only wet with tears but also with blood, blood from that girl on her face.

How do you do a line like that please teach me I saw Kim do it too

I just have it in word, like if you do two small -- after each other, it automatically becomes a big one. And I have it copied and whenever I need it I just paste it.

Tate

He lets her in, gives her the quick bathroom 101 (towels in the left cabinet, there's a cabinet behind the glass mirror, take my body wash, take the coconut shampoo for long hair, do whatever you want. There's a green toothbrush in there, too, if you want to brush your teeth.), and leaves her, locking the bathroom from the outside. "Just yell when you want out."

Jael

Not a word. She just stands there silently until he leaves. And when he does, she turns on the shower and starts undressing herself.
It doesn't take long before she's done. The clothes fit her perfectly, but to be honest, she'd prefer nice, warm pajamas and a cup of tea in her room at home. But she can't. Because she just witnessed a murder. And now she's at the house of the murderer.
"I'm done." Her voice sounds as if it's not her own.

Tate

He opens the door and lets her out. Still shaking from the adrenaline racing through his system, he knows he'll shut down soon. He needs to sleep. It's almost one in the morning.
"You can have the guest room," he says. Then, again: "I'm not going to kill you."

Jael

She nods, though she doesn't believe him. Maybe she can escape the house when he's asleep...
"You didn't..." she starts, but it's like her system is shut down. "Your name," she starts again, a bit clumsily. He might as well never give her his name... but it's like talking to a faceless person when you don't know how someone is called.

Tate

He considers lying. He considers saying his name is something extremely common like Danny or Tim but then he realises: he might've killed a girl today, but he's not a criminal. He is not a lying murderer.
"Just call me Hale," he says eventually. "Who are you?"

Jael

Exchanging names... as if nothing happened. "I'm Jael." She gives him an unsure smile, feeling unreal over what just happened. "Where is the guest room...?" She was dying for some time alone.

Tate

He brings her to the guest room, the smallest one (not Macy's room. Not hers. He doesn't think he'll ever let anyone in there again—not Vicki's, either, because honestly, Little Victoria would never forgive him if he let a stranger in "her" guest room) and says goodnight before he double checks all the locks on the doors and windows.

Jael

She sits down on the bed, watching him lock the window. When she hears him lock the door from the outside, all hope of escaping slowly disappears. She just sits there and stares at her hands, fighting her tears.
It's long after he's gone that she crawls under the blankets, but she can't think of sleeping at all.

Tate

He sleeps fast, the exhaustion coming over him like waves. He feels sleepy and restless all the same, knowing fatigue will bash in his walls like a New Orleans' hurricane, like Katrina did on the 29th of August, fifteen minutes after eleven—
it's always like this after the storm calms down. Sometimes Tate forgets it's okay to stop moving, to breathe. After a day like this, after the thunder in his head stills... He sleeps. Just—sleeps.

Jael

Somehow she must've fallen asleep, because when she opens her eyes again, the darkness has changed into daylight. She yawns and has to think about where she is, but when it hits her again, she's wide awake immediately. She slips out of hed and tries the door, but it's still locked. "Hello…?"

Tate

He's been up for a while when he hears a tentative "Hello...?" coming from the guest room. There's breakfast on the table and black coffee in the pot when he unlocks her door. He pushes a new set of clothes in her hands, doesn't even look her in the eye. He was frantic, yesterday. Too little sleep and too much chaos going on at once. He never talked as much as he did last night.
He doesn't exactly remember much: Killing Tina, taking Jael, not a killer not a killer not a killer, the shower, the locks, then, sleep. Just the big picture.
"Breakfast in the kitchen" is all he says before he turns around again.

Jael

She watches him go and presses her lips together. She closes the door again and dresses herself. A good ten minutes later she gets downstairs and reculantly enters the kitchen, her steps unsure. "Good morning," she mutters.

Tate

He takes a sip of his coffee and nods in her direction as a form of greeting. There's a plate with scrambled eggs cooling off on the counter for her to grab, but he's too engrossed in his work to take notice of her breakfast rituals. God, he doesn't even know if she likes eggs. It's all she'll get, though.
"Someone's coming over today," he says, suddenly. "I want you to pretend you're a friend. When he comes in, you greet him. Then you go to the guest room. When he leaves, you can come out again."

Jael

She wonders if that will be her chance of escaping. Her parents are probably searching for her already.
But she doesn't say anything. She just nods and grabs the plate off the counter. Silently she sits down at the kitchen table and takes a bite. Her hands are shaking. Her fear is back again.

Tate

"Stop being afraid," is all he says while he scribbles down notes in a small black book. "Mason will know if you're afraid. Stop it."

Jael

She glances at him, puts down her food. "You should try not being afraid," she bites, her voice quivering. "You're the one that cages me here, you've no right of telling me not to be afraid." She clenches her fists, powerless, desperate.

Tate

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, drinking down the last bit of the coffee. When he puts the mug down, it clashes on the table with a loud noise. "This is a temporary solution until I find a way to ensure you won't tell anyone what you saw."

Jael

It's like being ripped back to what happened last evening. She swallows hard and averts her gaze. Silently she takes another bite, but now it tastes like cartboard. Tasteless.
And there they are again. Tears. Apparently it doesn't matter how hard she fights to remain calm, it happens anyway.

Tate

"Stop crying."
He's never been good with feelings. They make him queasy, make him feel like there's too much happening at once.
The bell rings. He gets up, shoots Jael a pointed look and flattens his T-shirt.

Jael

She wipes away her tears and takes a deep breath. She has this feeling she'll pay for it if she doesn't keep a straight face and so she fakes a smile and gets up too.
She grabs her mug and takes a sip, though the coffee has already cooled down. Her heart was pounding wildly, in her throat, in her ears.