Tate Langdon has always been a loner. Even when he was young, he hated playing with other children, he never saw the point in pretending to be a pirate or a dragon, it was ridiculous to him. Of course, he never really had a choice, his mother, Constance, always forcing him to behave and be the perfect little child she desired. So, when he was forced to “play pretend” with the other kids, he was always the monster, the villain, the one holding the princess captive. Never the good guy.
As he grew, he rebelled more and more against his mother, locking himself in his room with his music turned up loud. In school, he rarely spoke a word, only talking when he was forced to. He had no friends and no one to understand him. No one that was interested in the same things he was, or rather, no one that was not at all interested in the things everyone else was.
When he entered high school, it got worse. He had a body too lean and too tall, making him stick out from everyone else, which of course, led to him being the target of bullying. He started to run track, giving him a brief amount of time to “run away” from his problems, but more importantly, run away from himself. By his Sophomore year, the bullying lightened up, but he still got picked on for wearing a overly large sweater, or got jumped at the end of the day for a smart ass remark he made when he was called on in class.
To escape from it all, Tate turned to drugs, anything he could get his hands on he immersed himself in completely, forgetting school and the dumb ass kids there, forgetting the ghosts that he knew lingered in his house, forgetting his mother and his new charade of a family. Anything to let him forget, just for a little while. Depressed with the marks to prove it, Tate kept his anger and rage bottled up. His mother started to fear him behind her strong exterior, knowing that the littlest thing could set him off, which is the exact reason she sent him to the new shrink next door.