Greetings and Salutations,

THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU for your supporting reviews, alerts and favorites :)

I hope you like this new chapter too. I've cooked it with love, I put also a fistful of lemons and cinnamon and finally I added a little bit of black pepper and raw meat ;)

Bold words stands for Veronica's diary. I put the lyrics in italics for Blur song and also used I put a spell on you (Marilyn Manson cover) and The perfect drug (Nine Inch Nails) to write a special part of this chapter, you will notice easily which one it is ;)

Now I sing for you: if you like it and you know it plz review (clap, clap, clap)… if you like it and you know it and you really wanna show it, just review (clap, clap, clap) YOU ARE AWESOME ANYWAY, thank you. ;)

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8. Hanging Over – Blur

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The tempting scent of coffee and bacon woke Veronica the following morning. Her mum always cooked for them a great breakfast on Sundays and the girl was mouthwatering in anticipation.

Leisurely, Veronica wiped the sleep out of her eyes and took a look at her body. She was naked over the sheets and so was Tate, although the girl couldn't see him.

"Have you dreamed of me?" Tate raised his head and rested it on his hand; his ghostly elbow was crossing Veronica's shoulder and his lips were inches from hers. "You were smiling in your dreams. I wish I was able to know why". He felt easily amused. He didn't think of her as a doll anymore, she was alive and he liked her better that way. He caressed his chest. The bitch knew how to bite; his skin was still recovering from the passionate wounds. He would have loved to keep them anyway but he would heal no matter what. Tate was looking forward to getting a few scars out of taming his wild and beautiful new pet.

"My oh my" Veronica wailed. Her body ached badly and her legs were sore. The moment she got up, some dense and copious fluid slipped between her thighs. "What the…?" She touched the moisture with her fingertips and smelled it. The window and the door were firmly locked so it had to be hers, it could not come from anyone else.

Tate read her mind easily and smirked. "Nope, pet. Those are my little swimmers" he laughed. "It would be awesome if you licked your fingers now, Veronica".

The girl hesitated for a moment; her hand was still close to her nostrils. Tate got up and stared her in the eye. "Lick it" he commanded. He was using the inner voice that the Murder house denizens used to mesmerize the living. "Lick it, Veronica. You know you want to".

Veronica was enthralled. She buried her sticky fingers sluggishly into her mouth, deepened them to the knuckles. Tate's cock hardened again. He imagined himself taking her by the hair and pushing gently his cock right into her mouth. He could hypnotize her to do so, but later she would remember every action and that would trigger some panic attack. He didn't want her to fall apart, he was starting to care and he needed her.

Tate realized that he didn't think of Moira at all, Veronica was the only name he thought of carving in his arms. He was fond of his little new pet, so bittersweet and full of surprises.

The girl was putting her fingers in and out her mouth, bewitched by Tate's voice.

"Suck it, suck it hard" he ordered and she obeyed absent-minded. Tate floated to the ceiling, slid his ethereal dick between her lips and imagined it was for real. It looked like a blow job.

I'm alive and I can breathe the air. I can hurt you. I can float up here so soft and tingling.
You can't catch me I'm floating away…

Veronica's lips were rounded around his cock and sucking. Although he couldn't sense anything, Tate was about to explode just imagining how awesome that would feel. The girl's mouth was off-limits when she was knocked and Tate regretted to not have begun that way last night. Tate was so eager to become real that he lost concentration.

"Fuck!" Veronica pulled a disgusted face, took her fingers out and cleaned her hands with the sheets. "Why have I done that?" she whispered. She spat on a handkerchief and watched it confused. "Goddam… I'm losing it".

Her diary was still opened on the floor. She had been writing about her strange trip a few hours ago, before sleeping. Tate had been reading it afterwards.

Instead of getting dressed, Veronica took the pen and wrote zealously.

Dear diary, this is the morning after Tate's gift:

Awful hangover – check

Aching body – check

Talking to myself and losing my mind – double check

Regretting – nothing

I have to see him ASAP. That shit was good. He left so soon, I thought he liked me. I dunno I wish he came to the beach with her sister, shit! I should get dressed, that girl could be here any minute.

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Veronica rushed to the bathroom and Tate followed her like a shadow.

She hit the shower and so he did. They were standing on their feet one in front of the other. When the water started pouring from above, Tate put his left hand through the natural sponge she used. He focused and controlled his spirit so that the flesh of his fingertips thickened a little inside the sponge. Therefore, he was able to touch her body every time Veronica rubbed the sponge against her skin.

I put a spell on you because you're mine. I can't stand the things that you do
No, no, no I ain't lyin'. No...I don't care if you don't want me…

He wanted her badly, right then and there. Tate was too aroused to think straight.

"Time to wash your pussy" he claimed and subjugated her will completely. The girl slid the sponge and Tate's fingers traveled from her chest to her inner core. "You are so dirty, pet. We need more soap and less hair down there. You have to clean it for me".

Veronica was as obedient as a devoted disciple. She took the shaver from the shelf and begun to shave her moon pubis and labia majora. The moment she finished, Tate kneeled down to inspect the job and beamed satisfied of the exposed soft skin. "Now I want you to finger yourself" he demanded. The girl pushed her index gently to her clitoral hood and moaned.

Tate stood up. He became a little more than a shadow, a warm presence, a caress of steam pressure. He closed his body to hers.

The water fell down on their skin. Tate was panting on her ear as his right hand was busy rubbing his boner, jerking off heavily. He allowed the tip of his dick to touch Veronica's cunt as she was fingering. She didn't notice but it blew his mind. He skewered her entrance with a little more of flesh. She whined in pleasure, feeling Tate as a warm thrust of energy.

It was the best hand job of her life and also his afterlife, but he needed more.

"Close your eyes, turn around and bend your body" he ordered with a husky broken tone. Veronica turned to the wall and bent.

The water streamed over the girl's back. One hand was still rubbing against her clit and the other one was shuddering on the cold tiles. Her hips and tits were shaking. Tate couldn't stand the vision of her ass throbbing to his glans anymore.

He became half real, aimed the girl's perineum and pushed his erection against it. Her skin was wet with water, fluids and cinnamon soap. Tate's cock slipped to her starry anus. The ghostly boy got inside her slowly and his flesh got fully solidified. She screamed as stroked by a thunder bolt. "Keep moving, pet. Don't you dare to stop now!"

Veronica's hips trembled with the first onslaught. The sudden pain turned into a strange pleasure. Her rectus was so tight that Tate ejaculated in seconds. The moment she felt the hot itchy shot of jizz, she got overwhelmed by a wave of warm relish. The orgasm smashed Veronica so hard that it bent her knees and curled her toes.

Tate smiled as her paroxysm ended. She remained breathless, crouched down at his feet. However, Tate felt as if the picture was reversed.

I can't stand the things that you do. No, no, no I ain't lyin'. No...I don't care if you don't want me 'Cause I'm yours, yours, yours anyhow.

His delicious pet was the most amazing gift he had been given and he was going to take good care of her. He was hers.

Moira frowned and left the bathroom unnoticed. This was getting too far. That girl wasn't going to help her and she had lost Tate because of her. It was time to let Lorraine Harvey get in the middle. That creepy burnt woman needed someone to feel her pain and Moira was giving her a hand.

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Veronica woke in the shower for the third time that morning. She had heard about acids striking back hours after the effect had passed, even days after, but she never thought that could possibly happen to her. It had to be that. She couldn't get ass raped in the shower by a shadow man, could she? Both possibly answers terrified her. She changed her mind about using. No more drugs. After all, she was feeling so restored and happy that she could become addicted easily.

"You tell me about it" Tate laughed. "I'm starting to think I'm addicted to you too, pet… You are the perfect drug".

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The delicious smell of grilled meat welcomed Veronica when she finally made it into the kitchen.

"Morning" she greeted.

Her mother was busy with the cooking and didn't reply.

"Hmm" her father answered shortly. He was reading a book. His eyes were fixed on the pages, his fork coming in and out from the breakfast dish to his mouth. "Goddamn, will somebody tell me why I read these spy novels?"

"Cos you're an idiot" Veronica grinned.

"Oh yeah, that's it" her father laughed and looked at her.

Then Veronica looked at his breakfast. "OH my God! Oh my God! What are you eating?" she rasped. "What are YOU eating, dad?" Her voice was unwilling to recover from the vision.

Mr. Sawyer peeked down to the dish on the table. He could see three human fingers there. The flesh had been separated from the bones and they were roasted. There were some rests of human meat on the knife, on the fork and on Mr. Sawyer's teeth.

"I didn't… I didn't… Is this a joke?" he shouted to her daughter.

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That evening, Veronica and her father were silent in the waiting room of St. Mary's Heart Hospital. Mr. Sawyer was unable to speak. He had been vomiting for a couple of hours; then, he was just sitting next to his daughter with an empty stare.

Veronica was writing in her diary, trying to make sense of her creepy life again.

This can't be happening. My reality is stranger than my dreams. It cannot be true. I woke up and went down… I went down the stairs with a pain in my head. I should have never got out of bed. Then everything shattered just at the point that mattered. My mum has cooked her own left hand. She has severed it with a knife and she has burnt the wounding stump to stop the bleeding…

Mum has feed dad her fingers, how sick is that?

I should have never got out of bed. Dammit. I screamed and Mum said "I've saved the thumb for you, my dear". She was happy, happier than ever, smiling from ear to ear.

The smile was in her face all the time, frozen on her lips. She spoke through that smile to my father and said "Do you want some more?" Dad started to puke his guts out. I could only say "Mum are you OK? Are you OK?"

I never got to hear her response, the fuck if I need it.

Next thing I can tell was Dad pulling me out of the house. He went back inside to call 911 and take care of mum.

I sat in the stairs and then Tate came and sat next to me. I wasn't capable of speaking. I just babbled him that I could not go to the beach.

He didn't reply anything but embraced me as if he knew. It was so strange and sweet of him. "I heard you screaming. You look in shock" he muttered in my ear. I really was in shock and numb, out of reality.

His embrace felt just RIGHT. "You can tell me about it when you feel better" he said offering a cigarette. He lit it up for me. "I will be here for you. I'm your friend, Veronica… You are not alone anymore".

I really loved hearing those words. He smiled with those gorgeous dimples and I smiled in spite of everything that had happened. I'm sick and selfish. I felt so guilty for my mum. It was odd but good.

"Everything is gonna be alright" he said holding my hand and taking a drag from my cigarette. I tried to speak but sudden tears strangled my throat and Tate spoke for me. "Shh, it's okay not to be okay. OK? You can tell me about it… later". He has promised he will come to see me tonight.

Dad is gonna stay here with mum although she is too sedated to noticed anything. Doctors say this is a nervous breakdown, a schizoid episode. She should have been showing other symptoms but they were so focused on me that we didn't realize she was losing it. Goddam, I have been so selfish. How could she do that? It's so extreme that I can't fucking believe it.

I am in denial, yes I am… or no I am not, fuck, I dunno. I'm losing it too and I can't stop thinking about Tate. I hope he keeps his promise to see me tonight but I dunno if it's a good idea to tell him about the roasted hand Dad had for breakfast. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It has to be a dream; Heather should have been in the kitchen this morning, offering me her thumb on a plate, instead of my mother. She's so fucked up, I'm so fucked up… and I can't stop thinking about fucking Tate. Fuck! I've totally lost it!

Who am I trying to kid? I have lost it before, long time ago, when JD and I killed Heather. Maybe I didn't stop that bomb. Maybe I really died in there and JD was right all the time… I can see him saying that shit again "Pretend I did blow up the school, all the schools. Now that you're dead, what are you gonna do with your life, Veronica?"

Maybe this is hell, but if it is like that... WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU JD? You should be here with me instead of that gorgeous blond angel named Tate Langdon and I shou…

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"I can't believe I didn't realize I was ea…" Veronica's father started to speak but he stopped abruptly and hit the toilet again.

My father is fucked up too. Now we are a happy family of demented basket cases. God, could it get any worse?

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Thank you for reading :)