all hers | tara carpenter x fem!reader

part 2

It had been weeks.

The murders went unsolved. You attended the memorials, tried to pretend like the reason for their deaths wasn't sitting right beside you, holding your hand.

It was twisted and sick, but you couldn't turn her in. She loved you, and you loved her.

Not much had changed. She played the part of the perfect girlfriend so well. You barely spent any time apart these days. She'd drive you to school in the mornings, buy you breakfast. She'd walk you to class, carry your textbooks. Make-out in the tool shed behind the bleachers if you had a little free time between periods.

And then you went home with her. Her mom was never home so you had the place to yourselves. You cooked dinner together, watched movies, and fell asleep together.

And then you'd wake up and do it all over again.

You didn't speak about the killings. You'd made Tara promise she wouldn't hurt anyone else. You promised you wouldn't give her a reason to and she'd agreed. You didn't strike up conversation with anyone, avoided making new friends. Things were perfect as they were.

You didn't want to give Tara a reason to kill anybody else.

Except for tonight. Your dad had demanded your presence at dinner: you hadn't seen him, or your mom in days. You were busy with school, was your excuse. In actuality, you were too busy with Tara. You'd gotten used to playing house with her. You didn't like the idea of her all alone in that huge house.

You push your peas around your plate. Look down as your phone buzzes.

are you done yet? miss you? :(

"No phones at the table." Snaps your father. He's looking at you funny. Angrier than usual, like he has something to say. As you drop your phone to the table, he lets loose. 

"That girl isn't good for you." He says, shoveling peas into his mouth. "You spend all your time with her. You used to play sports. You used to have friends"

"I have friends." You say, defensively. It's not true. You don't, not anymore.

"I don't want you spending all your time with her." He continues. "You can see her on weekends. Weeknights, you stay here."

Your heart sinks.

"Dad-"

"I don't want any arguments. He says, pointing his fork at you.

"I'm eighteen, Dad, you can't tell me what to do-"

He slams his beer glass onto the table. It shakes slightly. You stare back startled.

"As long as you live under my roof, you abide by my rules."

And that's the end of it.

You pace back and forth in your bedroom, staring down at your phone. Tara's calling, again. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how she'll take it.

"Hey babe." You say.

"YN." She says. She sounds antsy, like she's been waiting for you, "Where are you?"

"I can't come tonight."

"What?"

"My dads being a total dick." You say, "He says I can only stay over on weekends from now on."

Silence. You chew your lip, hoping she's not too angry.

"Sorry baby." You say. "It's Friday tomorrow though, I'll make it up to you."

"Sneak out." She insists. You shake your head.

"It's just one night, Tara. Pick me up tomorrow for school?"