I don't own American Horror Story or any of the characters. I only own the plot.

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Maybe it was the way he walked, or the way he talked or even the way his eyes glimmer that drew her in. He reeled her in like a fish on a rod with his faded scars and his similar taste in music. He was like a magnet for suicidal teenage girls named after a deep, depressing shade of blue.

Of course, she fell for him immediately. How could she not? He had the face of an angel but the mind of a devil. Maybe she could've lived with that, maybe it wouldn't have matter to Violet that her boyfriend was a murderer and threw his life away because he loved watching the pain, the worry and the fear of death spread across his victims faces and the trickling stream of their blood after he pulled the trigger.

Although he swore he was different now, Tate would never change. A part of him lusted to feel his cold hands wrapping around someone's neck, to hear their breath getting sharper as he slowly deprived them of oxygen.

The other part of him, the majority, wanted to start afresh. To meet Violet, the unrequited love of his life, again. To fall for her again. To save her from death but succeed this time. To go to the beach with her again. To tell her he loved her over and over. To not screw things up this time.

That's what he wanted the most - A new beginning.

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"What on Earth do you think you are doing?" Nora asked, outraged as she gaped at the girl in front of her. Violet Harmon, razor in hand, stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She didn't have to turn around to know Nora's blue eyes were fixated on the blade in her hand "Why on Earth is that in your hand?"

"It's art, Nora" Violet replied blankly. She didn't care. Truth was, she didn't care about anything. What was there to care about anymore? Everyone she loved was either dead or had betrayed her "My wrist is my canvas and this blade is my pencil"

"Violet" Nora said softly as the dead girl turned around to face her. Violet's caramel eyes were filled with loneliness and pleading, a truly soul-shattering look on a beautiful face "I think your art work is the worst thing I've ever laid eyes upon"

"Leave me alone!" Violet shouted, her mood changing like a light switch. Tears ran down her cheeks uncontrollably. All the broken pieces of her heart rattled in her chest with sadness.

"Won't you ever understand, Violet?" Nora put her hand on Violet's cheek, trying to keep back tears of her own "You aren't stable, my child. You are wrecked with longing and consumed with self-hatred. Leaving you alone will do nothing but amplify the voices in your head"

"I can't control it anymore" She sobbed as Nora pulled her into her arms "I just can't. I tell everyone I'm fine but I'm not, I'll never be fine again. I ended my life and now I want it back so bad despite all the bullshit"

"Really?" Nora cradled her head and stroked her hair. She would've been a good mother if Thaddeus had lived to be a teenager "Is that all?"

"No" Violet wept in a barely audible whisper "He was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. I loved him so much it hurt and then he screwed it up. I hate him, I hate him!" She slumped to the floor and buried her head in her lap. Nora bent down beside her.

"Violet, do you really believe all these ludicrous lies you tell yourself?"

-

"Jesus H. Christ, this house is cheerful" Constance muttered sarcastically to herself as she enter through the back door.

"Leave" Tate said bluntly as he heard his bitch of mother let herself into her old house. His angry narrowed eyes were focused on her, hoping that he'd make her uncomfortable and she would leave.

"Tate, honey" She took a seat at the island and took out a cigarette "Are we really going to do this?"

"Yes" Tate replied, still watching Constance through eyes filled with rage. The more he looked at her, the angrier he felt. She was no mother to him. He loathed every inch of her "Leave"

"You know, Tate" She began, lighting her smoke and taking a drag "If you were as loving as your other siblings, you'd be the perfect man" She exhaled "But no. Your siblings were beautiful on the inside and you were beautiful on the outside. Sometimes I think that if your exterior was a reflect of your interior, you'd look more like Adelaide or dare I say, Beauregard. Not that it matters" She moved a piece of her blond hair out of her face "They were both burdens on me anyway"

Tate had had enough. He grabbed one of the knives from the holder and stabbed it down violently on the surface, nearly missing Constance's hand. she laughed

"You sicken me, you hypocritical bitch!" He spat at her "You caught your husband cheating on you so you shot him right in the heart, a heart that no longer loved you. And you know why he cheated on you? Because you had been with him since you were sixteen and he was sick of your nagging and your goddamn bitching. My father was a smart man and if I were him, I would have done the same and worse!"

Constance yanked the knife out of the counter and held it up to her son's neck.

"Baby, you don't know the half of it" She growled, dropping the knife to the floor. It landed with a loud clatter. Constance stepped away and turned around, leaving the way she came.

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