Apartment 3B

CHAPTER 3

Here she comes
She's cool like sin
I can feel my blood get thin

Here she comes
She'll suck me in
Take a deep breath and begin.

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Mrs. Walker pulled down her red dress and fluffed up her golden hair. She felt extremely impatient as she called out to her son. 

"Tate, darling! You'll be late for the therapist appointment!" Those words felt like acid on her tongue and she recoiled from her chirpy voice. Her son was crazy, and she was being optimistic? He'd quoted once that the therapist appointment was like going to have a neverending fight with Satan. Maybe he'd been exaggerating. 

There was no reply.

She let out a groan and shouted out once more. "Tate!" There was no response, still. Growing annoyed, Mrs. Walker hurried up the stairs and rounded the corner to the oak door that had the word: TATE'S written on it. She'd shoved it open, and her mouth dropped. 

The room was deserted. The red duvet was pulled back, and there was still a crease in the bed from where Tate had slept. Papers flew everywhere and Mrs. Walker realised the window was wide open. She peered down, her heart thumping loudly, so loudly, it drowned out her heavy breathing and other noises. There could be no way that Tate had jumped or climbed. His room was located on the third floor and it was far too high up. 

Mrs. Walker backed away from the window, her eyes widening with fear. Before she could turn around, she collided into something solid, something larger than her. As she flew around, her eyes connected with Tate Walker's. There was something in his eyes that would make Mrs. Walker permanently afraid of her son. His handsome face that made so many girls swoon was lit alight with malice. 

"T-Tate, dear? What's wrong?" She squeaked, a tremble in her voice. Her whole body was shaking. Tate merely watched her as he stalked forwards, forcing her to back away. Mrs. Walker felt her back hit the window sill, and then she realised the true intent Tate had.

"NO!" Mrs. Walker screamed as she swatted at her son. He took no notice as he placed his muscular arms on her frail ones. He held her steady before slowly pushing her body further and further backwards; she felt like a gymnast as her hips curved. Too weak to struggle, Tate nudged his mother so far that only her legs were on the window sill - the rest dangled in mid-air outside the window.

With one last glance, Tate let go of his mother.

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A hand clamped hold of Tate's shoulder. He looked up and saw his father. Andrew Walker was the owner of Apartment 3B and rented it to many people. He was extremely distinguished and arrogant.

Tate hated him.

"So, son," Andrew finally said gruffly, "since your mother's sudden death, we will be forced to leave our house. It's far too large for the two of us."

Forcing a polite smile, Tate shook his head. "I'll be graduating, father. I want to have a place of my own."' Tate shrugged out of his father's grasp and edged away from him. "Maybe you could allow me to live in Apartment 3B? It's close to where I plan on working."

Mr. Walker frowned slightly, the edges of his mouth curving down. "I'm not sure, son. Where do you plan on working?"

"I want to work at Joe Jacob's Mechanic Store. I went there a few days ago and they said I had the job." Tate exposed his white teeth to himself as he relished on the happy moment. He gazed back at his father, a question in his depths. "So, please, father. May I move into Apartment 3B? I promise I shall take care of it."

Rubbing the stubble on his chin, Andrew Walker thought to himself, before eventually coming to a conclusion. "Very well. You can move in tomorrow if you're ready." As he walked away, the man muttered under his breath, "Good riddance, lunatic child."

Tate's eyes narrowed, and the anger swallowed him whole. Stalking forwards with his fists clenched, he unbuckled his belt. Like a predator hunting its prey, Tate closed in on his oblivious father.

"Lunatic child." He raised the belt and slammed it with force down onto Andrew's head. The man swayed on the spot for a few seconds, before he slumped to the floor.

With a triumphant smile, Tate grabbed hold of his father's body and dragged it to the nearest dumpster. He spoke to himself, muttering and muttering the same two words.

"Lunatic child."