Safe And Sound ~Tate Langdon (DISCONTINUED)

0.6

I stood outside dad’s office door and peeked into the crack in the door, listening in on Tate and my father’s session.

“So, what do shrinks think about when a wildly brilliant patient doesn't talk to punish said psychiatrist? I bet you think about sex,” he said smugly.

“Do you think about sex a lot?” my father asked him.

“I think about one girl in particular. Your daughter,” Tate said then looked at the door, smirking when he saw me. “I jerk off thinking about her,” he said, teasing my father. “A lot”

“I'm not comfortable with you talking about my daughter, Tate,” my father said uncomfortably and forcefully.

“Don't you want to know what I do to her? How I lay her on the bed and I caress her soft skin, make her purr like a little kitten. She's a virgin. They get wet so easily,” he continued with a smug smile.

“Do you turn to these thoughts to comfort yourself in times of stress?” my father asked, trying to be professional.

“Actually, yes. I jerk off a lot to make the visions to go away. Blood and the carnage,” he explained, turning on his serious persona. “I want the thoughts to go away, and you're not helping me”

“Well, we've only been working together a few weeks now,” my dad said, trying to assure him.

“Well, you're sexual, right? Scout told me about the supposed affair with wife and some teacher in Boston”

“Our time is up,” my father told him.

“Bullshit. I don't accept that,” Tate said and sat forward.

“Our time is up for today, Tate,” my dad pressed.

I took a step back and quickly scurried off to the kitchen. I grabbed an apple from the bowl and took a bite as I heard the two sets of footsteps.

“Hey Scout, you wanna hang out?” Tate asked me.

“Maybe later. I need to go and meet up with Leah,” I remembered then got up and walked out the door.

I slipped on my boots and grabbed my bag before heading out the door. I met Leah in some under cover Skate Park. We sat on the edge of one of the dips and talked.

“I thought you hated smoking,” I said as she lit one up.

“I've taken it up. I can't sleep. I'm terrified of everything. What attacked me wasn't human,” she said and I could see the fear in her eyes.

“It was Tate,” I told her.

“No, you saw that other thing, too”

“He was trying to freak us both out,” I denied. “What'd you tell your parents?”

“Don't worry. I told them I got attacked by some chola on Melrose who wanted my Chanel. Couldn't tell them I went to your house to score coke, could I? I had to file a fake police report and everything,” she said and took off her glasses.

“How deep are the cuts?” I asked, noticing the pad taped to her cheek.  

“Deep,” she answered.  God, and I-I can't stop thinking about that mouth”

“It was a mask. He was purposely trying to terrorize you,” I told her but I knew she wasn’t buying it. “That hat doesn't look like you”

“It serves a purpose. Look,” she said then took it off. “My hair is turning white from fear. Yeah, I read on the Internet that's possible. Do you believe in the devil?”