Tate was definitely . . . unique, there was absolutely no denying that. He always had been, always will be. Despite his little quirks, he still had a certain sweetness about him, in his own twisted way. You were new to California, and to the Murder House, which was definitely a new experience. New school, yet no new friends. Instead, you had bullies. It had gotten to the point where you were hurt, which didn't sit well with your mom, and certainly not with Tate. No wonder he offered his help, not only to get back at the girl who had been messing with you, but also to derive some sadistic pleasure from watching her freak out.

"Let's trick her.” Was how it all began. It started off well—too well, in fact. Almost too good to be true. And it was, because the moment the girl ran out of the basement, he had scared you too. Oh man, he didn’t want that. He had thought his little trick was cool, but clearly not to you. No, you were scared, probably traumatized.

"That was cool, right!?" He asked, looking over at you. You weren't having the reaction he had anticipated. "Whoa, whoa . . . what's wrong?" He asked softly, noticing your heavy breathing. He couldn't have that. He moved closer to your trembling body, wrapping his arms tightly around you in a comforting hug. "Shh, shh. It's okay, calm down. I'm here.” He cooed, gently rubbing his hands up and down your back affectionately.