2019-04-21 - Talking to Myself

<<Vi. VI!>> The shout ringing through her head wakes Violet from a blissfully dreamless sleep, causing her to sit upright in a bed that was not her own. She peels her eyes open, scrubbing at her face with her palms, and breathes out a sigh. Without her glasses, her vision's blurry, but she can make out Alex's form on the bed there beside her. It was a sight that usually gives her cause to smile, but in her current state, it only gives her cause to slip from the bed. She grabs her glasses from the side table and tiptoes into the bathroom, nudging the door shut behind her with her hip. <<I'm awake>> she tells Alice as she slides down the door and onto her butt on the cold tile floor. Alice's voice filters back through, a quiet rush of words about her day. They must've upped the dosage on some of her medicine; Alice was rambling far more than normal and most of it didn't make sense. But Violet wasn't there to make something out of nonsense, she was just there to listen, because Alice didn't have anybody else.

She'd been doing a better job of building the walls, of only letting Alice in when she felt she could best control her own thoughts. It felt awful, really, not sharing everything with Alice; the guilt gnawed at her regularly. But this was the first time that Violet had something that was wholly hers .. and it was something she didn't necessarily want to share with Alice, at least not yet. At least not when she probably wouldn't understand. She realized it was terribly hypocritical of course - that she'd kept her relationship with Alex a secret from the person she loved and cared for most in the world, while throwing herself a pity party for herself because Alex was doing the same thing with Sophia. The weight of the pendant feels heavy on her neck in the moment, and she clasps her hand around it, running her thumb over the shimmery pink enamel on the back of the watch face.

<<Vi? What was that?>> The question distracted her from her thoughts, and Violet realized she'd let something slip. She was thinking of Alex as he stood there in the garden, having just quit himself of his suit jacket and loosened up his tie. That moment when he leaned against the chair and watched her flit about the garden, looking for eggs that the Easter bunny had left. <<Is that him? ALEX??>> husky, medicated laughter filters through with those words. <<He's so TINY!! Think of Logan instead. He's tall and handsome and so sad looking!>> Alice was losing it, the laughter turns almost hysterical. Maddening. Violet pinches the bridge of her nose and shuts her eyes and tries to cut off the flow of information. That pleasant feeling she gets when she thinks of Alex is replaced by red-hot anger, it burns through her. Her fingers curl tighter around the pendant, pale knuckles turning whiter as she squeezes. The laughter ends abruptly.

The voice does not.

<<Vi? Why are you so mad?>> Uncertain now, Alice was. <<You just need to stop, Alice. You shouldn't laugh at somebody, it's not nice. It's not.. it's not like you>> Violet replies. Her stiff fingers slowly unclench from the pendant, her thumb rubbing up against the enamel again. <<Alex is .. he's nice and sweet and handsome, and he.. and I..>> Words fail her, but emotions do not. What travels from Violet to Alice now is something far stronger than a simple feeling of giddiness, the fuzzy sensation of a crush. This was the sweet scents of the first bloom of Spring, the enveloping warmth of a sudden summer thunderstorm. It was the crisp breeze of an Autumn wind, the anticipation of winter's first snowfall. It was electric rush and lingering satisfaction, it was the joy that creates deep-dimpled smiles and the fluttering of a heartbeat when hands touch. It was trust and trepediation, fear and comfort. It was all-encompassing, overwhelming, deep and endless.

<<Violet.. are you.. And Alex..>> A few tears slip down Violet's cheeks. She shouldn't have to apologize for this, for feeling like she does. For wanting something that was her own, for wanting someone who sees her. <<I'm sorry, Alice, I should've said..>>

<<Vi.. You shouldn't. It's not safe, you don't know. He can't be trusted. No one can be TRUSTED, Violet. He could be working for them, he could be working for them and not even KNOW. He will hurt you, Violet, he will lift you up just to tear you down, he will leave you broken and empty and he will PUT YOU HERE WITH ME!>> Where you belong.

Violet's fingers tremble around the pendant she wears, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. <<I'm sorry, Alice>> she repeats.

<<It's okay, Violet. It's not too late. Just walk away, just go back home where it's safe. You need to check on dad, anyway, when was the last time that you checked on dad? Just go. Leave. Hurt him before he can hurt you, it's the only way you can make sure that you're safe.>>

Violet jerks to her feet, but she's not in the bathroom anymore. It's raining and she's on the sidewalk of the Pourhouse, her father's hand around her wrist and the other one around her neck. He's twisting, tugging, and the pain shoots through her and Alice's voice is mocking, and don't you know you can't trust anybody, Violet? Not even your own father, but especially not some some boy who won't even tell his daughter about you, not really, she wasn't his amiga or his novia, she was just his mind your own business, his dirty little secret that he leaves in his house so he can have brunch with the life he'll never bring you into. And across the street, there's Alex and his daughter, eating Easter breakfast and watching passively by as this drunk chokes his daughter on the street, and tries to rip the pendant from her neck.

The pendant. The pendant.

Her nails scrape ribbons of flesh from her father's arms, down down down until she's got her hand on his own. The dirty mitt he has wrapped around her pendant. NO!. She tears, she breaks, and she scrambles back until her hands were on the shimmery pink enamel again, and she's free and running, destination unknown and yet perfectly clear. <<//No. I'm not sorry for him, Alice.//>> Her hand stays clutched against the pendant as she flees and the shadows chase. <<I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry for us. Because I trust him, Alice, because I just KNOW. Because I..>>

She's at the front door of Alex's house by the bay, her wrists and neck bruised, her feet torn. She's going to make a mess in his hall, footprints of dirt and blood that the maid is going to question. And Alice is screaming for her to leave, Alice is screaming that he'll break her. She opens the door, and she falls into the house.

And she wakes up in his bed.