Tate

Tate.



-Chapter 1

01 March 2016



If I could life do over one time. Just one time, i think I would've end the same. I think it's Fate  that you become the way you are.
That you need glasses because without them you're not complete.
You need your wild hair  because who says your hair looks fine straight?
When you got pimples you just gotta learn to love your soon to be freckles because you know that it would be a little scar anyway, because you couldn't fight the temptation.
When you try to loose pounds because you think you're fat but it doesn't work. You just have to accept that fate thought you would be more beautiful with meat on you.
Or if you're skinny, why would you try to change? You don't need the change because Fate accept and brings all.
Your body is yours and just because you aren't happy with it doesn't mean you're not beautiful.

Some people don't believe in fate, but that's okay. Because Fate believes in you. And it will never stop.
All you need to do is you and believe in yourself. You can let the world know how you are going to win this fight, or not.

There are thousands decisions you need to decide. Everyday it's becoming more and more.
As a teenager people will tell you you're old enough to make decisions. But as soon as we make decisions we make the wrong ones.
Every time a teenager makes an decision the older people will tell them they're not old enough to make decisions.
That why teenagers get confused and mad at the same time.
They wanna be let out, free.
They don't get it.
We don't have time for someone nagging in our neck and tell us we're not worth it.
We don't have time for someone to tell us we're not worth it.
We don't have time, at all.

Tick,tack,tick,tick,tick.


Looking at the old clock that was hanging on the wall I saw it was that time already. It was that time that Miss. Natkins will grab her broom that was standing in the corner lonely, and beat with the broom on the clock until it works again.

Just like I had predicted, Miss. Natkins grabbed the broom in that was in the corner and hit the clock wit the broom until the clock was making the noise again.
Tick,tack,tick,tack,tick,tack,tick.

"Whisper!" My head snapped to Miss. Natkins as she yelled my name, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Yes?"
"Pay attention to the class please." Miss. Natkins grimaced while I silently thanked nobody as she didn't asked me a question like she usually.

As the bell rings, I let out a breath of relief, grabbing my books i was doodling in and walked out of the classroom.

Baudelaire high school's most precious hall was the third hall as almost nobody goes there. There was an old library that people wouldn't use anymore as we got a new one.
They left the old books there as they didn't allow students in the library.

Walking up the spiral steps I walked into my place of silent. The books were all placed with care as they were still in their belonged place.
The old books that were read so much had their own selection where was written on the paper:
'please be careful, precious books.'




Letting my hands caress the books as I walked by, reading the covers of the books.
Then I found it. A book I've never heard off.
'Seven moons.'
Grabbing the book I sat in a chair and made myself comfortable.
After a few minutes I was drowned in the masterpiece I was reading.


Every time I would read a book I would get thousand feelings. All different.
And all worth it.
Books can let you feel the sadness.
Books can let you feel happiness.
It makes you feel something you waited for to feel.

Some people as they read feel nothing. Blankness.
Numbness.
Nothing.
But personally I think they read it wrong.
In the past I thought It was weird. But as I grew older I began to understand it.
Not all people have the same feeling. As the other feels sadness, the other one would feel happiness and the other would feel numbness.
You can compare reading to dreaming with open eyes.
You read the fantasy of someone else. Like a dream. Like they gave you a piece of their mind.

I sometimes wish that they held concerts for just books.


I imagine How the reader will sit on the podium as people will sit or lie down in the grass or even take those soft chairs with them and will just close their eyes to listen. It would be quiet as they were reading the book.
You get blankets once it was getting cold, or you could just bring them with you because why not?
You close your eyes as the soft voice began reading your favorite book and brings the characters alive.
People who don't even know each other would just snuggle against each other without a word being spoken.
You will just forget everything.
You would forget for just a second that you had problems. You would live in peace for an day, you could camp out as you were listening. At night you could gaze at the stars.

As I was deep in my thoughts, a voice startled me out of thoughts as I let my book fell down.
The precious book.

"I read that book eight times."
I turned around as I saw him. It was not like my world stopped. No.
It was a meeting with someone different. Someone who everyone avoided.
He was a psychopath.
But everyone falls for the psychopath. There was no denying in it.





His name was Tate.
His hair was the darkest shade of black.
He had that eyes that makes you drown when you would make eye contact with him.
He could stare long at you and make you uncomfortable as he looked like an angel.
But you know what they said about Angels...


His peach colored lips were in a tight smile as he grabbed the book to gave it back to me.

I nodded, feeling conscious. It was always like that.
I couldn't face other people as they were looking like a gift from God.
It didn't help that my glasses were almost too big for me.

I always believed that I was a mistake. My sister told me I was ugly. She would remind me every day how worthless I was.
So imagine as Tate, a beautiful young man sat in front me with his own book.
I bit my watermelon colored lips as I read the title of the book.
'It's kind of a funny story.'

Looking at my own book I squeezed in my sleeves nervously. The mirror that strangely was next to the Tales section was letting me take myself in.


My onyx glasses with a pinch of amethyst.
I had really bad eyes. When I would  watch television I couldn't do it without my glasses. I would always wear my glasses.
My ugly old peacock sweater that reached to my tights. Wearing shorts under the obsidian legging that would hide my body.
The obsidian legging had a few holes in it, but I didn't mind. It looked like the holes belonged there.
My favorite sable combat boots that I had for many years.
My mother bought it for me as she saw I wouldn't lay a finger on the expensive shoes she bought for me.
It was the most precious I ever owned.

My watermelon colored lips formed a grimace as soon as I saw how I was sitting.
I was at my average height of 5'3 feet.

My mother told me how I should do a sport.

But I couldn't go there.
Blame it on the anxiety I always felt.
I was always tired and scared as I was surrounded by people.
It's wanting friends but can't socialize.
It's caring about every little thing and somehow don't care.
It's being alone has you feeling good but at the same time bad.

You can say it's just sad...





My name is Whisper Deleon and this is my story.